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

This week the Neopoem is

 

  My Heart, My Heaven by Izzi Reinier

 

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

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.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Masked Intentions

ablaze
a sensitive heart
pounding

incensed
by opposition

glaring fits of
blast furnace eyes

smite, smite, smite
the foe

impose a
burning wrath on
those daring
to oppose

bellow the way
spell it out
in happy crayon
and rainbow bold

flaunt the new
stomp the old
leave monsters
scorched in
a wake of scold

we, good hearts
ablaze

shall purify

by any means necessary

BAMN!

Ode To Coffee

I meet you in the morning coffee.
Saturdays and Sundays are our playdates.

You greet me along side a plate of bacon,
scrambled eggs, and fried apples.
A cup of creamy comfort,

dressed in a lovely light brown
with a touch of cloud white.

Warm waves of french vanilla,
caramel, and some days irish cream,
swim down to my stomach like a raft
along a river current.

The Answer

I question every day 
Does morality exist?  
Is there a contrast
In between what is right 
and what wrong is? 

I am not in a place 
To judge humanity
everyone is free 
To do whatever the fuck they want.

If you want to devote your life to Jesus, 
Go ahead.
If you want to eat your life away, 
Go ahead. 
If you want to get high every day,
Go ahead.

But if there is one thing that is not acceptable,
It is to take another person’s life.

Bananas Republic?

Misuse undue might
Create crises left and right
Provide reasons trite

AUGUST 21

Just sitting here this afternoon
on my driveway made of stone
waiting....it will be here soon.
I've even turned off my cell phone.

There are more clouds than clear skies,
hopefully not enough to block the view.
I've glasses to protect my eyes.
The sun has finally broken through.

A small bite taken out of it
It almost looks like a play toy
I have one beer and open it
The clouds almost make sun look coy.

Comfort

Warm blankets.
A charged tablet.
A cup of coffee.
When the weekend starts,
being in my bed.
Rested on a fluffed pillow.
Youtube loaded up
on the screen.
And a butter rum muffin.

An Imperfect Solution

I built a ladder
with one rung
I haven't decided if
it's the top one
or bottom

if the top
most won't be able to reach it
if bottom
no one will be able to climb very high
so what to do?

multiple rungs might be the answer

who will be nimble enough
to make it to the top
who'll be left to flop
on the bottom

let the scramble begin

ECLIPSE

I
The sun raced across the sky like a raging lion
With braided rays of Medusa's coiled colors
To the infinite blackness of the waiting moon
Sucking in the soft fingers of light-

For a moment it was the perfect connection
And the ground was set afire with halo.

And on a thousand satin sheets
The copulating couples hysterically
Screamed their prayer of conception.

II
Three things cannot be hidden;
the sun the moon and the truth
Said the Fortune cookie

Ode to myself

<p>Old self whose ink man abhors Old self whose pencils speak volumes Of fierce battles lost and won on battlefields invisible But if thy ink divorces a trophy It would not thus divorce us.</p>

The Deck

Some mattoid is giving birth
in the city’s darkroom.

Her tears shade winter’s bowels,
and the feathers flossing the mayor

captioned laughter is cruel as this moon,
a craft of brewery, a craft of lonely spells,

A superstitious murder in the codex
homebound orphans count on,

Right to the point their rifled injuries
send them after one another.

In the theatre’s photo collage
I see a blue eye peek out

and two sunglassed children
parachuting into fences.

Pages

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