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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.

 

Silly me

No promises no pain, if it was so easy i would be in Haven.
It’s not your fault I’m so easy to broke, I wish I wasn’t
But what can I do now? Just keep my head undercover
And hope to forgive myself for falling in love with you.
I close my eyes and imagine that I’m in different place
Different skin, different soul. But it’s not gonna happened
So what, I’m just me, silly, stupid and naïve me. Forgive me.

Wondering... .May be Wandering!

I was wondering...
at this age

why we wonder about age
at this stage

all is a mental comprehension,
years is a mere number
old guys perform better
than many much younger

well maybe at some time...
in all and many spheres
including meter and rhyme

but then, what about that wall of separation?

The empath is victim of her own submission
she will go hungry with your hunger
and she will feed in the ocean of your despair,
her ribs will be your ribs; your agony, hers.
She will burn with your matches and
your heat-seeking missiles in the loneliness
of your hut where you have hidden yourself
in the blindness of your heart. She will war
with your peace until you have laid down all
your weapons, until you have lain in her arms,
embraced like a prodigal child. Like the return
of a lover after the third world war.

Assonance and consonance work shop - examples

Assonance 

When sober Booze Hound is sound, yes he is solid
down to earth he is a bloke whose thoughts are coherent.
Thoughts are well founded and down right consistent

Consonance

Mad bad and low down
danger hides deep in the depths 
Of his dirty debauched  soul

Sadly

Sadly

sadly time never lies
when love sprouts then dies
in thorny hearts

sadly truths gets hidden
when deceit takes root
in dishonest words

sadly life gets rougher
going gets tougher
when faces turn their back on you

be true to self
when a fall is shameful
stand tall walk in integrity

Kalishnikov

my baby at my side
these worn boots with dust
and sheeps dung
the satchels of old soviet
issue rounds
dust like thoughts to
the earth grind in dreams
upon the teeth and
irritate machinery

tobacco is a sin
unlike the killing
that is accepted by
gods desire

starlight is our night scope
and landcruisers are our
camels
Toyotas with thin skins
easy to feed
and run
no armour plate
and hollow as a drum

HUNGER

HUNGER
no bread to feed
my hunger
no drink to quench
my thirst
a spirit left to its death
scattered pieces of a soul
lost in one breath
my heart beats
a rhythm almost to still.
yet by some magic
or holy thing within
my will gives birth
to a light
bright enough
to endure this earth
and feed the peace
I hunger

What They Don't know

Do not propose to understand
what lives within these walls
Our lives are as individual as we

What came before ,just may be more
Then one can understand
The present and the future days
will find us going separate ways
Living the best we can

Neither I nor you are here to judge
what a person may feel inside
The outer image that we see
May not be true to life

there are no closet poets

If poetry is the bread, what is the butter?
It gets succinct after that, that first reading
and you're left with an unconscious reflex.
(You want, you ache begrudgingly but never trivially.)
She feeds you lines as if she were your slave
but she's a headhunter eating your
brains for breakfast and your soul for dinner.
He's the master of disguise and you are devoted
with purpose--to love his real face.

The Lady and Twilight Bond

Words often can fail
but I try, anyway.
The verbs wrap around
a particular noun,
and adjectives help them stay;
causing images to move, and sway.

Before your very eyes
I'm hoping that I write,
will an image, send
concerning my friend,
the woman known as Twilight;
who toils throughout the night.

Summer, in the desert
owns a suffocating heat,
dispatching out
enough self-doubt,
to squelch attempting any feat;
including walking on the street.

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