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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.

 

Fan-shaped Child Of Africa (October Contest)

Many African children are fan-shaped,
little wonder why the sage would say,
“Mangoes don’t fall far from the tree.”

But most times we assume more use
of ourselves, make essence of our shape
and take away the heat of life
from our brothers’ faces.

Nigeria is one of such children,
a mother who pushed me out
from her womb and placed me upon
a sturdy bed called Edo.

I would learn in time
that the reason why we’re not all fans
lies in the choice we say “Oma” or “E wo” to.

Recycling

The cycle of life.
Every experience helps us grow.
Every growth helps us experience.
The circle of Life.

Scary days.

On days you see your moon shinning in the day; days you feel like giving up.
Days the best of your comfort shoulders isn't there to rest on.
Days you needed to pour the river of bitterness ; tasting like a sour wine, chocking the whole of you.
Days drenched with acidic rain and your body look as though it never gonna heal.
Days humans comes with their switching nature, don't blame them they are just too fickle.
Rather take a long walk to the countryside,
Inhale air clearer than the blue sky over the mountains,

SOUL OF SOLDIER

*Soul of a Soldier*
Do you hear my calls?
Soul of a soldier only guns.
Sound is the rhythm.
Thousands of dead bodies on the street is the party.
War is the dinner and
Victory is our meal.
Eyes have seen much.
Massacres, genocide,
bones and weak skeletons sounding in my heart.
My mind becomes beast.
I'm just human.
Why do I live for war?
Or sign in for death?
But my humble soul is worth it.
Written by: Thinkbig Usman
Designer: Michael Agboola
©Poetrify

REFLECTION

When you see the moon
Come and take me by my hand
Walk us on the moonlit beach
Then sit us on the sand

Put your arms around me
And ask me what I see
I’ll say, the moon and its reflection
In the waves, upon the sea

You will tell me, I’m your moon
And so, forever will you be
My reflection in your heart
For what you mean to me

I will say, that’s why I love you
You make me glow at night
You will say, that’s why you love me
I am, the reflection from your light

BOEMS BY JA 510

Ad hoc Adherence:

In response to the Weirdelf
Challenge to compose
A poem outside the genre usual
An attempt not off the shelf
But my original prose
Submitted for your perusal.

Who is the arbiter of poetry?
Is it freeform or uniformity?
Does it require precise geometry
To convey a sense of serenity?
Freewheeling or on circuitry
Poetry is artistic sovereignty..

All Hallow's Eve...

For ghouls and ghosties all alike
All Hallows Eve, a favorite night
You should see them out on the road
Oh man, they give you such a fright

There's Kylee and Kote all dressed up
A killer-chicken and psycho- bunny
They want to scare the pants off from you
Don't laugh too loud, but it's kinda funny

Alyssa is a unicorn
Spencer Pixachu lightning-head
Baby Chance is Elmo laughing
He's so cute when dressed in red

I am death

Your world hates me
The rich despite me
The poor respect me
The youth plays with me
Elders claim to be ready for me

When I have invited the world cries
They all start to care
The sweet words they never told you rise
Those who rejected you want another chance
Those who cursed you speak you good

Your family members lose touch
Fearing they can't do much
Reminisces over a sad lunch
Promises losing their plot

TO LIVE AGAIN (12-01-2012)

Existing…..
In this grisly grotto of endless void
Shivering amidst turbulent thoughts..
…cold…..so cold….
Sightless…heedless…devoid of emotions
Mindful of the encroaching darkness
That would birth an expected despair

on the field (october contest)

He was beautiful to see
abs bulging
star struck was I
as he pulled this wagon
a red wagon full of hearts
mine I left bare and naked
like soil filled with humus

On the field that day
we tilled the soil of our hearts
planting seeds of love
having no care
even the sky was cognizant
as she cried with joy for us

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