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Neopoet Weekly 03/17/24 to 03/23/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 

2:23am by zach

 

Congratulations to zach on such a fine poem.

Early Spring Image Prompt Contest Vote

Early Spring Image Contest Vote

 

Please read the two finalist poems below and click on the vote here link to vote on your favorite poem. Voting ends March 29th 2024.

 

 

The Visitor

By: Mary Beth Magee

You visit for a moment,

Accept a breath of hospitality,

Then dash away again.

You share your company briefly.

 

But in that time, oh,

The magic you bring.

From tiny eggs to instars

To gloriously patterned wing.

 

I watched you hatch and crawl,

Grow, shed and wriggle.

You change your dress. Your

New look makes me giggle.

 

You give me joy and delight

With your aerial ballet.

My royal friend, magician,

Harlequin at play,

 

Dear monarch, share your gift

Of grand, exuberant joy

With all. Give us eyes to

See, and feelings to employ.

 

You set an example

Of living in the moment.

Let us live so our days

Are likewise spent.

 

Dash on, my friend,

Your destiny calls.

Send your children my way

When the milkweed grows tall.

 

Spring Comes

By: Candlewitch

 

Fields of springy clover

beneath my barefoot toes,

dance-happy feet kick up

a delight everyone knows!

 

Green, green all around,

a heart full of joys untold

rolling over and over in

nature's paradise hold!

 

In gardens of my growing hopes

tulips, buttercups and crocus

flourish healthily blossoming,

as Spring comes into focus.

 

 

Vote Here

Neopoet Weekly 03/010/24 to 03/16/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

Dancing In The Dark  by  William Lynn

Congratulations to William Lynn on such a fine poem.

Neopoet Weekly 03/03/24 to 03/09/24 Winner!

This week the Neopoem is

 

THE LAST RING by  Jokerface82

 

Congratulations to Jokerface82 on such a fine poem.

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

The Visit

She’d lived all alone ever since her husband passed away,
Her kids were all grown up and had long since moved away…
She kept a bible by her bed which every night she read,
And she took to heart every word she knew that Jesus said…

She lived a simple life, she didn’t need too much,
She had friends who were kind and they always stayed in touch…
Eighty years had passed her by but she still had her health,
She considered that to be her most important wealth

Miles of Blues...

He sings of phones and traveling,
a voice of loneliness and blues.
He sings and wishes desperately,
that he could be with you.

Those bars and stages all lit up,
still don't let you see,
the words he sings, in baritone,
he didn't get them free.

He's paid for each and every line,
with an aching, torn up heart.
He thought he wanted freedom,
he let his marriage fall apart.

Somewhere deep in Texas,
he let her get away.
She left without a word,
there was nothing more to say.

Plots for sale

Two threads intertwined
Just to create a special mind
Clean and empty vacant spot
Built to make sure you thoroughly rot
Spacious area, room to grow
For a lot cheaper than it ought to go
Nice little path for a flower bed
An ex barber next door to shave your head

insights of a orphan

in no will I am named
To a birthright I have no claim
I rummage through the lives of man
Foraging from them what I can
Right from wrong it’s hard to tell
For I’m still holding the keys to hell

Call me guilty, I am not
Lock me up until I rot
You’ve viewed the past & still can’t see
Call me guilty & I shall be

The thread of life that keeps us sane
Is beginning to show signs of strain
Triggers released within our minds
Creating stutters & empty time

Thin Skinned... (the Coward!)

When asked a simple question
she becomes defensive and mean,
preferring to be hidden away
obscured, behind the scene.

When measured against the many
she feels inadequate and small,
striking out against her rivals
fear precedes her, ahead of her fall.

Wracked with strong emotions
she knows her stories are trite.
Naysayers beware of her vice...
Striking first, before the fight!

It’s not me, it’s you

It’s finally over
Not even a long run
My tears trickle slower
All into one

I couldn’t help my desire
My desire for you
My cravings were dire
And nothing but true

So I turn to my pen
And I turn to my pad
Cause they’re here for me when
When everything’s sad

Tho they couldn’t stop the tears,
they could stop the agony
But they helped drag my fears
Back from that balcony

Prosaic Memories

Winter looms near, another year has come and gone without you
I dread the shortest day, marking when I said my last farewell
Sometimes I still behold you in my dreams
Revisiting memories that once seemed so prosaic

Believe

Assiduous Beliefs

How much of life do we think we control
Destiny is preordained beyond interpretation
Choices are the test. For solidarity the peace of mind and soul

Belief in ones purpose is the hardest road

Pronouncement is simply the faith that we are here to learn
Pronouncement is simply the Proclamation of why we are born

Belief is the only part of life we control

Healing

Finally I feel I'm coming together
no longer affected by the weather
to stand
to think
not run or swim
neither care if fat or thin
judgemental eyes
that see my lies
will look again and realise
the image that they thought
they knew
was merely just a different view.
they may stop
pause and wonder
but no one now
can steal my thunder.
for I've dug deep
and turfed them out
those feelings I had
of self doubt.
I've buried them
smoothed them over

At The Library

Books embrace me on all sides.
Large print, teens, newly issued.

It is quiet, yet the conversations between
the covers speak with bold enthusiasm.

Humor and drama unfold together
like mating butterflies...

I know not where one ends
and the other begins. Rows and rows

of poetry, science fiction. And, oh,
romance stories whispering just

beneath their paperbacks, dripping in
lingering kisses, with graceful necks sweeping

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