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Mother's Day Image Prompt Contest

Mother's Day Image Prompt Contest

Please read the following poems

And vote below.

Voting ends May 26th 2024

Mum... You and I

By: Rula

 

Together we witnessed time ebbs and tides:

we went through ups, we went through downs,

yet luckily we got each other's sides,

you and I, you and I.

 

Together, unwillingly, we grew old,

with devestating wrinkles, and white hair.

We both raised families, yet we're still bold

You and I, you and I.

 

Together we laughed, together we cried:

I uplifted your spirits, you got my tears wiped,

we stayed together, side by side,

You and, I you and I.

 

Together we lived for worse and better,

until Alzheimer's stole you, my bank of love,

although you promised to stay forever

You and I, you and I.

 

My Gold

By Mr joghe

 

In whom I spent my old days and nights,

Who rocked me in my cradle;

And fed my pretty mouth with a spoon,

Did weep while I should weep.

How much will I pay

For the pain you’ve taken for me?

 

Who worked that jumper to keep me warm;

Treated me with diffidence and respect,

Her healthy arms always be my stay,

And always admired my prudent face that filled with laughter.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

Who tired me with apology for being tiresome,

And asked twenty questions and never waited for an answer.

My timidity struck her at the first sight;

When she taught me to expect something extraordinary.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

I find such a pleasure

In obeying her commands,

That I take care to observe;

Shall soon come to bless me.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

I vow, I thought so;

Never, as among queens and princesses

In her age; to be explicit,

I’ve kept very little company

In pretty smooth dialogues with her.

How much will I pay

For the pains you’ve taken for me?

 

Vote Here

Thank you for your participation!

Neopoet Weekly 05/12/24 to 05/18/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 


Mosquitos Suck!
  By William Lynn

 

Congratulations to William Lynn for racking up another contest win!

Neopoet Weekly 05/05/24 to 05/11/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

Ways of loving by  Terumi Sakurai

Let us congratulate Terumi Sakurai on their first win as a neopoet member.

About Contests

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To take a look visit
https://www.neopoet.com/contest/program-description-and-guidelines

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

Many summers past

Many summers past, we were standing,
for each other’s dates anxiously waiting.
it was then our eyes did glance,
and their arrival we forgot, perchance.

it was then your eyes transfixed mine,
yes it was within our domain, we felt fine,
we stared and glanced and blushed,
at each other’s arms, naturally we rushed.

t was at the spur of moment god granted,
it was our union for ever which was supplanted.
That moment we still remember even now,
it’s good our meeting was fortunate somehow.

The Place

Love has carved a place for you,
Deep into my heart,
And it shines, and it glows,
Like a valley full of stars,
Time has claimed a space for you,
Burning in my chest,
And it warms me like an ember,
I find comfort and rest,
My eyes are heavily laden,
With dreams yet to be,
Sleep wakes me from my wanting,
A gentle rocking like the sea,
Filling the chambers of my being,
With emotions so strong and true,
Fueling the fire of the space,
In the place,
Love carved out for you.

The Garden of Love

The Garden of Love

He fortook a ounce of belly flutter
Warm glances caught him by surprise
His cold can of frozen beer melted
As sunshine in her eyes made contact wih his.

Paper Airplanes

My imperfections are fuel to my passion
That live outside of your city limits
Oh, pray for my blasphemy

I do not hide who I am in my bedroom
I leave it exposed for the world to see
With your diagnosis I make many paper airplanes
That I throw back at you

H O M E L Y

wipes the hot spittle
life's no riddle
and sunlight slashs like a flare

words behind for ears to hear
slip like a noose about the heart
and neck

who said life was fair?

Vanity is wicked and the
smiles consume the egos
and ignorant snarls throw
back the change

steam rises from a cup
too anxious to belong
the eyes staring to move along

and the dream is the vivid
climax
awake my duckling ugly
beautiful this dawn
praise and clamour
in the sordid little pond

Waiting for the Doctor

Surrounded by red desert and blue ocean,
the city realises, and suffers
the magnified full impact
of the sweltering southern afternoon sun's
harsh, reflective rays.

While I seek the illusive comfort of shade,
sitting simmering in sweaty stickiness,
a vibration, a long reverberating thrum from within, rises,
unites with the oppressive weight of extrinsic heat
and wends its way into the very expanse of reality,
insidiously dulling my senses,
rhythmically sounding, echoing through my being.

there's nothing but love, my love

she was an American refusenik
and the eye of Ra
once gazed upon her

from dust
she fashioned a solitary word
that flowed
into oceanic verse
and weighted down clouds
to anchor roses to the sky

she burned through images
of what can never be seen
she turned pages blank

she was a blade of grass
aloft
a token of love lost.

PRE-MARITAL TRADE (Revised)

Let's not go down this lane
For when we start the journey
And gaze upon each other's nakedness
Knowing we have tied no nuptial knot
This is what we are;

We are two innocent souls on the edge
Conflicting thoughts flooding our heads
Thought of eternity...fading away into night

As fabric gives way to bare flesh
We know we should not be here
Yet hands caress bodies...lips find lips
Our consciences scream out...our hearts skip

The Return of She

It warns ones heart
to see the return
of beautiful faces we...
traversed with across the seven seas,
now in voices of sparrows
soft and sweet,
we can hardly wait to hear
the politest speech, of one
since long in hibernation,
as do some birds,
awaiting the return of a spring
ere the summer…
such melodious voices like cuckoo’s sing
and
songs of praise all poets murmur
the one we missed most,
now returns
and
the warmth of flames in our hearts does burn.

Bad Pictures

My sister,
tired and haggard,
caring for two infants,
saw the camera pointed at her
and was instantly photogenic .

Is it a craft or skill,
dare I say sullen and unlearned ?
Pause your DVD and see
beauty transformed by drooping eyelids,
bad moments captured.

How would you feel if your eyes captured only those moments,
or the beauteous ones,
depending on mood,
like me.
Or do you?

I really want to know.

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