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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.

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The stream (all workshops)

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

 

SPACE GATE

Powered by the blackened sun
the UFO race long since began,
Secret base given numbers
accusations of unwarranted influnence.

A dark cloak of misspent power
exists, persists, evolves and resists,
This flight of fancy ignites my morbid
curiosity at terminal velocity.

A national security agency dwelling high
above the powers that be, first contact
not know plausible deniability extended
when the truth not know by the elected.

SILENCE

She sits quietly as
we wait at her door
pensive, languishing
without anticipation
of more

resignation
is related
without the resentment,
a gentle acknowledgement -
baptismal rain for the repentant

she alights on the mind
bringing quietude to the soul,
acceptance is her acquaintance -
who's only just
become known.

9 November, '10

Dark

Dark

I penetrate your eyes, searching
The dark corners of your mind
The ones you try too hard to disguise

I contemplate your face, staring
At the dark spaces deep within
The ones you try so hard to replace

Dancing in Hell, in the blackest dark
Gyrating to cause a flaming spark

Dancing with the Devil, in the darkest black
There's no light, to find your way back

I infiltrate your eyes, hunting
Those dark places in your head
The ones you try too hard to hide

FISHING BEAVER PONDS ( EDIT)

A mile walk through muggy July woods
standing dead timber draws nearer
as we reach the marshy shore
of our flooded destination

We wade wearing tennis shoes and jeans
into water whose coolness is welcome
and whose familiar depths are known

Incantations

One single voice cries in the night
Bless me Father for I have sinned
I’ve traded my soul
For one night of lust

Another answers
To whom do you pray
To save what is now mine

Amid the writhing creatures chants
The vile stench of the dead and dying
Permeates her nostrils
As gasps for air are heard
To what end have I come
All for the sake of wanting
Was it worth
This!

Incantations to the Dark One
Rise as I fall
Deeper and deeper

Daughter

Full of dreams
becoming real,
her life reveals itself
in tiny gleaming wonders
sparkling jewel-like
from our talks,

for when doubt rises
from painful awareness
of adulthood new-acquired
I am whom she seeks
to find the answers
that she thinks
she needs,

and when she talks
I listen,
astonished at this woman
my child has become,
grateful she still asks
questions she already
has answers for,
and proud she still asks me.

Religiosity of Religion

Religiosity of Religion

This is neither
A poem nor is it prose
But a combination
I suppose
Let’s see how it goes.

The oldest religion was
Lord’s Krishna’s
Where he had specified
That he was Time
The sun was God
So Time is God.

Also Lord Rama gave
A sample of equality and love
To ones family
Obeisance to the elderly
Justice in reality
Even to ones very own family

Of What Shall I Write?

.
shall I write of trees?
gorgeous, as foreground or backdrop
to visions of life
fueling imagination
and heartfire

or write of the sea?
drowning one in depth
of emotion and tears
hoping to add one more drop
to its enormity

or shall I write of the sky?
whew! the view!
endless endless endlessly
to leave you draining
into a puddle of
discombobulation

terminal velocity

Drenched in heavy morning rain
Like an arctic soaking to the vein;
I just sat there stunned and wordless,
by the results of endless tests.

Only do I seek the scoffer's sympathy;
my litanies dot the bottom of this timpani.
No restaurant on high street offers...
Whoa! I found where my sanity rests:

A very comforting hand takes mine,
The other hand by her child as well.
I draw dry ice sculptures in my mind,
While a hawk’s screech rings overhead.

poems get long

poems get long
nobody’s fault but the poet's

who sings lyrics
with a half full pen for company
a loaded gun for support

gazing into a future no one else
may see
Russian roulette, the only game in town --

as words flow with percussion ease
tapped out while clock ticks beyond
its moments

on long road of living with ideas
searching for lost phrases
poet thinks are new
like they are his or hers alone

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