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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.

 

IT IS

IT IS

Something else and something else,
why does that sing a song
one where the words
forgotten
keep on coming along

beside me, through me
as I go
to where I do not know

who is looking,
what is looking
our consciousness
the brain its ticking time

where does awareness go
when there is nothing to be aware of
any more

we are a part
apart
yet joined to all that is
what is,
is something, nothing, nought
and yet its there

It is.

Nordic cloud.

moon racers

Its a good night he says,
Its a good night
for a race in the full moon light

Ave Maria

I will sing an Ave Maria,
if it ever comes again.

These shackles are jewel speckled,
donned from generation to the next.

We passed them on,
though they were painful,
under the eye of an aging world,
we guarded them with our lives
and what was left of our sanity.

Like sheep we are led to the slaughter
of reason,
and the judges;
book cases from Plato to Kant,
look down on us;

yet still we proudly walk on,
proud of our parent's yoke:

Dear England

Dear England
Ho’ dear England let me rest
and my worldly travel end,
My spirit lies in your silken bed
from my taunts of life to spend,
To rest away from the throbbing guns
that count the pace of life,
Safe within thy dream like-hold
as my mother’s kiss goodnight,
Embrace me like the dampened arms
of a lover's jealous hold,
and replace that dream before the dawn
my darkened nightmare stole.

.
There was movement at the Nursing Home for word had got around
that the Neolith Olympics was today
and the medals were all ready, first prize a hundred pounds,
so all the aged had gathered to the fray.
All the tired and bloated oldies, from Homes from near and far,
had gathered at the crisis muster point.
They'd come by bus, by train and plane, and some had come by car.
They'd be stopped by neither frame nor aching joint.

Creamy poet

Hello Lady Nevada
your return
sent cockles down my spine
my hairs stood on end
I rubbed my eyes
to reread your lovely one,

At twenty seven you could swim
along with the sun
but never naked…
barefooted maybe
and
here is this one awaiting for more
how your poetry satiates for sure
I wish to let you know
all readers
missed you so.
including the ones,
who are here no more
but hope to see your
Lovely free verse
my portrait,
as like a garland adore….

WHEN TOMORROW COMES

I must be brave
When tomorrow comes
For the mother of my grandmother's mother
Was in my place once
I cannot doubt...
I dare not run...
I must not cry...
When tomorrow comes

Three moons ago,
I was on the other side
I watched as
Proud blossoming buds stood in line
Their tears of joy were mingled with silent fears
"Customs do not die"
Say the ORACLES and SEERS

So...

I must not tremble when tomorrow comes

PIXEL PRECiOUS

ride in the svelte lining
sacred and saved
while the mastery of day
flows in ribbons through
streamer flag top structures
and whitecap glimmer

my soul shimmers

you smile baby is captured
alive on the lcd

while remnants if ice
fall away from our glacial
fire
and winters aurora
whips constellations
of godesses awake

Separation

Before this round of Karma's wheel began.
Emotion strove to think of new ideas
and challenges she could present to man
and woman, while we learn to face our fears.

Such as the lesson of the door of death -
to teach us separation, and the plan
is, while we're at this place where we draw breath,
our memories are clouded for the span
and we forget we are eternal beings.

NOMADS -- updated

NOMADS

When the battles are over
and no one has won
we gather our chattles
and farther we run.

But there is no peace
where conscience abides
there is no home
where treachery resides.

And so nomads we become
wandering from sun to sun
pushing tiime beyond its limits
before we are forever done

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