Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

Our World is Virtually....

Our World is Virtually….

Do the Syrians know the greengrocers is closed,
that the Chinese have just elected a god.
Mrs May stumbles on with brexit now exposed,
held up by the D.U.P.,s wink and nod.

In America Mr Trump plays the fool,
shouting at niggers for taking a knee.
His twin Boris in Britain, at best he’s a tool,
both born in the land of the free.

Space's Omission

I found in her a narcoleptic swan
tipped in the edges with wax. As
the sea looped in I heard her belly
song rise as an acoustic brushfire.

She rained on in the closet
inside me as a dying race
of half glimpsed whales.
The oil fell as tapioca
from my eyes, hands nailed
to the lime green oars from
a garage sale, the breath
on her shattered compacts
drifting as plankwood in the sea,
stragglers in the omitted spaces;
absent in the melody's clip of fallen
fingernails, no wreath, no memoria.

Sigh

Just when I think
I got it right
I’m reminded that
I’m still all wrong

Seemingly good deeds
Not so much in his eyes
He wishes I would
Simply settle down

Just when I thought
It was OK to be me
I’m reminded that
Being me

Is what got me here
In the first place

Panic.

Panic

On average our hearts beat from 60 to 100 times a minute.
That is of course, when you aren’t going around being a person:
Spotting someone attractive, walking, laughing or panicking.
Not five minutes of 100 beats but a trillion butterflies
or panicked wasps that try to escape your mouth during a speech.

I Don't Want To Talk About It...

Razor-sharp questions
Scraping my fragile psyche
Bother, bother and bother
Can't you just leave me be?

I've tried to be nice
Do what you ask
Answer your queries
Be a good guy

You have disrupted my life
Given me ulcers
Made me re-live the agony
I've had to endure once already

Go away, go away, leave me alone
Don't poke me again
I don't want to be a monster
But I will scream invectives

The Lyran Wanderer 373

A wanderer in the world,
an alien from Sirius,
the Galaxy of Lyra, is where I’m from;

I have no marriage, no husband,
I’m alone in the earth;
I have no real friends, no close associates;
I’ve returned to a wanderer’s life,
Free to find my purpose, my mission,
Free to create my own destiny, life path;
I now walk my talk, speak my truth;

I’m a wanderer, a Lyran
I’ve explored the planet, the cosmos;
It is where I belong, off the grid.

Eglantine

Sweetbrier they call it
flower of poetry
a wild Rose given hefty status
in Victorian floriography

What would it have meant
to make an arrangement with eglantine in it
then send it to a loved one?
Giving the flower that represents poetry
Instead of writing a poem itself

Maybe eglantine is for those
not so clever with words
or just too shy

After a long time comes a Happy Dream and Death

Dream But Not Of Death
Dying and Dreaming both have a D common

Never think of dying
we all know
we all will die one day
we came with a return ticket
not only one way

So dream and enjoy
I have been dying too
since ages past
yet I am alive in front of you
as in many decades
lives parts of me

Read my Sunset Poetry
Dying is a small part
we all have come to go

THE FLYING MR P.[President]

Every now and then he jets off
sometimes for a mere cough
he flies for the 'interest' of the nation
this we watch in hunger on television
since inception into office
he jets abroad without notice.

The puzzling part is this
he gains nothing from his trips
despite spending tax payers money
isn't that funny?
He lashed at former Mr P
of squandering every dime and pin.

Red Wagon (OCTOBER CONTEST)

Rolling along
In my little red wagon
Leaves crunching beneath the wheels

The smell of autumn
Wraps around me
In all its splendor

A cool wind blows
Beneath my hood
As I watch the decorations appear

Pumpkins, witches and ghouls
Floating from neighbor's porches
Anticipating candied delight

Childhood memories
Such a long time ago
Brings a tear to my eye

What I wouldn't give
To be that kid
Rolling along in my little red wagon again

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.