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Mother's Day Image Prompt Contest Winner!

This winning poem of the Mother’s Day image prompt contest is

Mum... You and I by Rula

Let us congratulate Rula on another contest win.

This week the Neopoem is

 Loving You by  hippiemoon

Let us congratulate hippiemoon on another contest win.

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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There have been some changes to the about contest page
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.

 

For Sunshine...

Mother Earth wakes him slowly
She whispers in his ear
No matter that he’s lowly
She hugs him, calls him dear

She knows how much he loves her
His heart is with her all the time
She is his life, she’s really sure
They are intertwined

Sparrows chirp good-morning, sir
As he passes by
He smooths his brother’s fur
The Sun shines from the sky

Cool waters wash his face
He slakes his morning thirst
Now it becomes a race
Who’s going to be first

Disillusion

The struggle out of misery,
the drama in violence
corrupted by mockery,
innocence stolen.

A captive heart,
souls drenched in tears,
wounded by time,
shattering dreams...

Patriotism!
Kill political will,
awaken heroism,
the outbreak of freedom.

Bathos Imperical

sit night
in evening gown
your flame of crowns
draws cocks to crow
as fledgling dawn

FOR HOW LONG

For how long will I live in foolery?
Hoping it will be better bye and bye
While things go bad in the day and nighttime
Unabated, my kismet wears away
Left in ruins to rot in abandonment

For how long will I live to be sorry?
My belongings blot due to lack of means
Unwelcome rats sneak in to eat my clothes
These stocks up glories of the past era
Like tattered flags of a battered nation

friendly poet

some day in the wilderness
as time splashes by,
you will or may recall
a guy poet like me
who came by
just to fly ..
and
you will not even know
who was that guy .....

short and sweet
for an everlasting memory
by Loved

Until Nothing is Mine

Was it only yesterday I saw your face?
Your smile etched words into my skin.
Lovers do not know such things
and neither do I.

The sun firewalked across this poem,
turned the page into flame
then these words into ash and dust.

family portrait

in a corner-torn moment
she stands
in shades of grey
the new-born babe
swathed in woollen white
clutched tightly in her arms

before her in a wicker chair
his hands caress the napes
of the necks of the two small boys
who lean across his knees

all dressed in Sunday best
for a family album addition
to keepsake the new blessing

a happy picture

so you'd think

an intuition
for I know the story

I look closer
seek their eyes
find therein
emotional exposure

the bit and trod of the savage petunia

pinch of gloss
smidge of sparkle
tongue lubricantly worn
tits tissued
shoes a-bladed
spread cheeks vaselined
rubbers tallied
picture kissed

prelude to a moonlight glow

she is called Kiko
to the tourists
that pay

she is called Lola
L-O-L-A
Lola
to the sailors
that get it

any night at port
every dollar spent
is a story untold

hell...
would you?

B r o k e n .. S a f e l y ...

jaw land dirty world
compacts and candy

flaw across the scar of sun
cutting cross tender bone
the hip throne

I can hear your breath
the hitchs
crying through a phone

put me down babe
put me down

cruel safetys off
to let you cold fire finger
pull ventral ebullience

drip hesitant kisses
drop memory in park

let our idle agony
spill runaway
hearts

into the damned
and lost of dark

.........

For Jess.

I’ve heard the cries from mountaintops
too many times to chance recall,
but never could I lift these legs
to limp and find the source.

Therefore I list with utmost care
to draw what least I may
from echoing strains that batter me
to learn what they portend.

But thunder and lightning, wind and rain
was all I could discern
and never might I learn the truth
of what the mountain said.

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