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April 2024 Contest Winners

Congratulations to our April 2024 contest winners!

Spring Fling  was won by Carrie with the poem Spring Fling

04/24 I Was An April Fool was won by Geezer with the poem Fooled Again...

04/24 Waiting In Line was won by  Mary Beth Magee  with the poem The Last Time

04/24 Are We There Yet?  Was won by Rula with the poem We're Almost There For It

04/24 My Favorite Cookie was won by Leslie with the poem After school treat!

Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Contest Vote

Vote for this month’s image prompt contest winner

Voting ends May 6th 2024.

Vote at the end of this newsletter.

 

Backwards

By: Carrie

G
All the things that I wanna write
C
Have been written
G
All the songs that I wanna sing
D
Have been sung,
G
All the things that I wanna say
C
Have been said before
D A Em G
All the things that I wanna do have been done.

G
I wanna fly a kite
A
At night instead of day,
C
I wanna drive a big old truck
D
The opposite way
G
I wanna laugh when I’m sad,
C
And cry when I’m happy and gay
D A
I wanna do what no one’s done
G
Any other day.

G
I wanna wear all my clothes
A
Wear em all inside out,

C
I wanna be real quiet,
D
When everybody else wants to shout
G
I wanna see the stars
C
When everybody else sees the sun
D
I want my day to end
C G
When everybody else’s has begun.

C D
Wouldn’t it be weird, wouldn’t it be funny and strange
A
If everyone thought like this,
G
Slightly deranged.

 

 

Lost Love

By: Alex Tanner

Should I recall those blissful times
When we like climbing flowers entwined;
Our blossoms scented evenings air
As Love and Lust forsook our cares.

Your laugh was soft and gentle,
A butterflies wings in spring,
Dancing on the sunbeams
Enough to make me sing.

Eyes so bright they sparkled
Diamonds on moonlit snow;
Flashing hither and thither
To make my pulse race so.

We held each other gentle
Yet tight so not to break,
Though deep, our love could never last,
Different paths our lives would take.

For fleeting months we tarried,
Each time we met we knew
This may be the last time
For lovers hours are few.

If I love ten thousand women
Tis you I will recall;
You gave yourself so willing,
For your passion I did fall.

On black nights as the wind howls,
As I lie in a bed so cold,
Your soft voice echoes 'cross the years
To warm my lonely soul.

                                                                                                                                         

Vote Here

Thank you for your participation.

This week the Neopoem is

 

 Whistle Stop Grove by Izzi Reinier

 

Let us congratulate Izzi Reinier on his first contest win as a neopoet member.

The stream (all workshops)

This is the stream - you can see all poems on Neopoet, live, as they are created.

 

Angel In a Tree

I saw him by the tool aisle, a young hairy bearded man pointing his index finger to his ear in a small circular motion. First one way, then the opposite. After three chorus's of circles, he would slap his ear as if it had water in it. Then suddenly from deep down low "Holy" a pause, a deep breathe, and at half-time in his mile long sigh an echo of "Holy". People tried not to notice this delusional man as even clerks on cellphones took little note. He was close by, but my fear blinded any attempt to look him in the eye.

Free

We are privileged humans,
The United States grants us freedom.
All of us as citizens
Have the same opportunity to bloom.

But are we really free?
We have freedom that is granted to us from the law
But how many of our thoughts are enslaved by moors?
Are we oblivious to the white America that we live under?

Yes, we are more privileged than other nations,
And for that I am grateful.
But, there is a huge space
For improvement.
“To form a more perfect union”.

OOOOOOO Marvelous metaphorical poetry

AHHHHHH OOOOO oooooo Marvelous metaphorical poetry

How happy am I
that ere I leave the world
for my final sojourn
I have come across
a wizard of poet tree in you

alas my ego has since been buried
I am no poet

I thought I was married to poetry
composed by no one else like me
now I am just a seedling
reading thee

my roots need to go deep
ere I weep
upon the days since gone
a narcissistic poet in me
succumbs

now I am done
ego has been abandoned

How do you start your day?

Some of the mornings
of early fall glow gold;
sunbeams burst
through the leaves promising
all the happiness in the world.

The other ones carry the gloom
of the morning after
a post apocalyptic fallout.
The forest floor
suffocates under the plaster
of the fallen leaves
and rot takes over.
Regardless,
I brush my teeth and go
into the woods
to check if I can still run faster
than the day before.

I move foot by foot.

SHEEP CLOTHING

Since shepherds had turned wolves,
devouring they own sheep,
then I better remain a sheep of myself.

Since the truth has been enslaved,
And the apron of Christianity is now a commodity
Juicing tasty venoms for the souls
I rather become a sheep of myself

It’s the eye we see,
The mind is hidden
tell the deer to run while the lion is asleep
Before the grave yawns hungrily
Sheepishly they accept the faith
The quest for miracles and signs
A prophecy long foretold.

Sonnet 1

Careful was I when I took my way
The incident which brought me to his eye
The eyes that leads to deceit of destruction,
The groan of an innocent heart,
That to warning she ignored.
My heart panted, fearfulness affrighted me,
The night of my pleasure.
The pleasure night hath he turned into fear unto me.
For valve was lost.
The error of the night, the pleasure
That ends with the night
For crime was it to love.
Think of thou offspring yet to come my friend,

I Thought It Was My Lucky Day.

She was a true definition of mystique.
Her presence no one wouldn't crave.
Flawless, enchanting was her physique,
no one could ever make her fall in love.

I sat one sunny day, by the bank of a stream.
Suddenly my name i heard her call,
it was so real it couldn't have been a dream,
she bid me come to a secluded waterfall.

Under the waterfall she held me tightly close.
I felt her warmth and soothing caress,
and she smiled as my ardor rose,
as the frigid water hurled down on us.

Sweeney's Pastoral (1846--19--?)

Let’s finish. I will help you once, here in the cutting station. I will swab your eyes with Mandarin cotton and slather your bald head with drooling hexagons of Barbicide.

Secondary Hues:

The two lone souls bound by a common aim
united for mutual benefit
this end pursued by agreement tacit
with a burning desire to attain fame
towards this very purpose primary
coloured by overarching, blinding zeal
utilizing a beg, borrow or steal
approach to combat any quandary
celebrating victories progressive
buoyed by dawning realization
that their rule was preordained destiny
employed tactics corrupt and coercive
more levels of rationalization
serial crimes lead to ignominy.

On His Passing Away

On His Passing Away

''We all have not come
to live forever
but to live a life
worthy enough
we have to live through
and
must endeavour''

TRIBUTE

My heart sweats tears of happiness and sorrows
I have observed with keen silence and quietude
the suffering of our dear patient
and
the patience showered by his spouse
these past ten years...
has been astoundingly incredible
but loving ones do endear.

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