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Poetry Month 2024 Imagine Winner!

The winning poem of the

Poetry Month 2024 Imagine is

 Backwards by  Carrie

Congratulations to Carrie on such a unique poem.

 

This week the Neopoem is

 

  My Heart, My Heaven by Izzi Reinier

 

Let us congratulate Izzi Reinier on another contest win as a neopoet member.

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!

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.

 

USELESS HUSBAND

Morning after morning, days run by
You hear him whistle all day long
Tunes of wrestling songs of his youth
When he was the champion of men

Afternoon after afternoon, he snores
Sleeping on the mat in the veranda
Waiting for friends to come from work
To gamble with draft and oyoyo games

Evening after evening, he drinks
Akpeteshi and gin mixed with roots
Then turns around to ask for food
From me, one he calls weaker sex

JINX

spoke out three at once
their words spilling
laughter at the quick repetition
the flask was fixed
the game named
a hot sun flamed
and sunset died

watching each other
legs swinging arms
sweeping as we spoke
and loons called
while we waited for
the first stars to bite
the beautiful heaven
aflame with their
tongues of bright

"tommorrow is a burden"
you said your stick
stirring the hot fire
your eyes a thousand
lives away

then you turned and
smiled

After

The Low Road home is mine to take
for in the bitter ending of my time
when I can no longer stand the grief
of cherished loved ones left behind

I will soar across the white-capped ocean
towards those islands rising green up from the sea
I will cross the rocky shorelines
thick with seaweed and sleek seals

and by the still and quiet waters of Loch Sunart
I will meet you, where sun kisses cloud
upon the summits of emerald mountains
and burnishes the red flame of your hair

Tooth and Claw

I will liberate you from yourself
salvage the wreckage of your soul.
I will claim what is left of your lifeless hulk
and place it upon the alter of safety

I will bear arms against the wolves at the door,
and cradle you in my loving arms.
keep you from the ghouls and demons
of your tortured past.

Fight tooth and claw, redeem your tattered
dreams and soothe you once more.
wrap you in my tender love,
repel those who would scale the walls, of our fortress.

Whose knife

I’ve got an ’84 Corolla
You might have a Porsche

I’ve got a puter hung together with wires
That keeps me online
You might have a dual core multi whosiwhatsit

I’ve got a mobile phone that takes calls
Sends messages
And even reminds me of things
No doubt you have a smartphone

My television is not flat or large

But I broke no-ones back getting any of this
And expect no knives in mine.

Our Beach

I looked at you and I felt guilty,
I dropped my eyes and felt the same,
And never expected your lips to find me,
Nor your hand to bring me up to you;

You said you didn’t care what I had done,
That the world mattered less than the sand in our hair,
Yours which shone so raven black on my fingers,
And your lips never dry to my kiss;

I felt the chill wind go by,
And it meant nothing;

I marked the water at my feet,
But all I saw was you;

The ballad of a windy Spring

Oh wind with your mighty fists,
who speaks of frozenness;
who sleeps inside her throat,
the singer's voice melts the iron
inside my bones,
melts it into a river of faces,
long ago.

Oh wind who whispers broken syllables
through young-green leaves,
weaving at unseen stars:
poets of the past, hanging bright
in their next season;
a slow waltz inside a galactic dream,
or perhaps a plot of demons.

vanishing point

i may never bend,
a willow branch
thirsty for space

i heed wild skies
and sunsets
that flame this
hunger to feel
roots

there is nothing to
surrender,
my God is lost in creation,

i was a goddess once,
one of seven sisters
one of nine daughters
of Eve.

i leave no trails for you
do not follow me
i've gone far beyond,

earth is a temple in my veins,
do not sound your trumpet,

synergy

and like the frenzy of madmen
you've been stabbing it
and stabbing it
and stabbing
yet nothing dies
directly related to your fury
the world does not
desecrate itself
anywhere near
how a whore does
when
no matter how she tries
she will never be
that small girl with
her hand in her mother's
the smile on her face
and the promises of
bigger things

Demons in the Rough

Should you wander out
amidst nights' "twilight time",
it can end up going one of two ways;

if you fail to notice,
which would be a major crime;
youll have to wait, and see how the evening...plays.

Should you venture into
this "twilight force",
I can't emphasize this, nearly enough;

your existence will completely change,
and that's just "par for the course";
those, are your demons in the rough!

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