Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

Neopoet Weekly 09/29/24 to 10/05/24 Winner!

This Week’s winner is  Twizzle48

 

WHISPERING WOODS

 

WHISPERING WOODS

Perhaps the rustling leaves are telling the tree’s tale
Whispering, such that only those listening may hear
Only when it is in tune, may the message be clear
Yet unless easily understood, it will be of little avail

The breeze is a medium, but other connections too
To share, an underground root network also serves
It’s communication via a kind of complex of nerves
No myths or stories, as all that’s shared will be true

Summer is a competition for sunlight, as if in a duel
In autumn it is time for the farewell to falling leaves
Yet the first snow of winter is as an axe that cleaves
But next spring, it’s the buzz of growth and renewal

The style of the telling is not random, but planned
Facts the trees near and far, eventually get to know
But its sending and receipt is effective, even if slow
Nature’s sagas few of us will ever get to understand

September 2024 Contest Winners!

September 2024 Contest Winners

 

Congratulations to all our contest winners

 

The Winner of the What is Life? Is Alex Tanner

 

Life Is What You Are

 

There's a time to go back to live life again,
Let the boy who was fearless be reborn just the same;
Command the old man who grumbles and moans
Of the aches and the pains that torment his old bones.

Ride his bike one more time, no brakes, hands free,
Skate winter's froze pond where he knows not to be,
Go down to the river for frogs, newts, dragonfly,
Climb gnarled oaks so tall they caress azure sky.

Boot footballs, play rugby in fields full of mud.
Wash knees in ice water to clean off the blood
From kicks and from falls but never no pain
Just laughter as into the fray once again.

No laptops, no mobiles perhaps no tv,
But they were not wanted this boy he was free.
Free from an age of want yet to come
To go where he pleases till hungry then home.

From dawn until dusk he was out all around,
With his numerous pals no trouble was found,
Nor was it sought, just laughter and fun
Or maybe some girls as adolescence begun.

The old man sits straight and a smile lights his face
He'll do what he can and if he seems a disgrace?
A silly old sod who ought to know better,
By God! life's for living, he'll show he's no quitter.

 

The winner of the 09/24 The Bully is Tawny023

 

Encroach and Invade

 

Mold is an inconspicuous bully
Decomposes reds, yellows, oranges
Blues, and even lime greens
Does not matter its outer shape
Covets the wetness deep inside
Feeds and declares dominance
Nest and festers, spreads
Like vermin and vectors
Permeates and inhibits
Its host hold on to structure
While degrading its bonds
In order to have its way with
Just about any old living thing
A temperamental nuisance
But it’s grotesque mold juice
caught the eye of Dr. Fleming
Its usefulness is no other
Than the holy grail
called Penicillin
Which fights viruses that would
Otherwise make human’s
procreation unviable and
Their deaths excruciating

 

The winner of the 09/24 Bon Fire is RoseBlack

 

Bon Fire

 

Moon high; middle of the night.
Drums thumping; bumping in hypnotic flight.
Cloaked hoods fall to the ground,
scattered chants mix with the eerie sound.

Candle wax burns at the fingertips;
Hecate's breath embraces swaying hips.
Shadows dance amongst the flames,
linking spirits to our world without shame.

'Tis our season, witches take hold,
The magic runs hot and bold.
Our veil is thinning, hear the roar of the thunder,
when the living and the dead are no longer asunder.

 

The winner of the 09/24 Under the boardwalk is  Lavender

 

Along The Windy Shore

 

I remember you
and your lit-up smile
under the salty boardwalk.
You were seventeen
with your tousled hair
along the windy shore.

Such a time we had
'neath the summer sun
under the salty boardwalk.
With our hands entwined
we would race the waves
along the windy shore.

We never made promises
we couldn't keep.
No promises were broken.

So in the silver moonlight
there on the beach,
few words were ever spoken.

I remember soon
summer days grew short
under the salty boardwalk.
I was seventeen
when we said goodbye
along the windy shore.

Do you remember me
with my deep brown eyes
under the salty boardwalk?
Part of me remains
racing with the waves
along the windy shore.

I'm there along the shore.

 

The Winner of the 09/24 Homecoming is Tawny023

 

Did you know?

 

Golden Shovel after Victoria Chang’s, ‘Homecoming”

Pieces of us still exist from as far back
As diapers and Similac, even before bedtime stories.
Our DNA hangs around in their
Bloodstream like butterfly wings,
As if the contractions remember
Something of us swimming in nothing,
But a secret tunnel and we were and are
Umbilical cord joined until cut, but the bond is never
Broken— our Mother’s DNA still holds our knowledge

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neopoet Weekly 09/22/24 to 09/28/24 Winner!

   This Week’s winner is Jokerface82

 

THE WRATHFUL SEA

 

Her salted bludgeoning maw
swallowed vessels and galleys
with its green saline gullet of
ulcers
barnacles, and a throat full of oily
spots of acne sticky limpets

Treasures guarded by a circle
of sharks in an ocean restaurant
pinching crabs,
and swaying seaweed keeping naval
secrets.

A wave of wrathfulness, tossing
clubbing, floating ships, drowning
them into the abyss.
stripping seamen Into
skeletons with silent screams.

Supported by a howling killer
of a storm . Ripping, blowing holes
into arthritis wooden decks into oblivion
into the coldest dark depths.

         

 

                                                                     To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

Nepoet Weekly 09/15/24 to 09/21/24 Winner!

                                                                                      This Week’s winner is Jokerface82

 

Grandiose Majestic Mountain

There stood a majestic
Craggy face with razor blade
Edges of a monstrous
time honoured mountain

Turning its rocky nose up
at anything below him, robust
Jagged and risky, high stabbing
armour with White shark tip
Cut throated fins.

Bald rugged with a silent manner
cold stone as white as marshmallow
steep and strong, bold and old
broad frosted shoulders

With powdered freckles and a storm grey
complexion it wore a white necklace
and a frosted crown, made
by heaven.

 

                                              To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

P a l l i u m .. C o m a

sunder the shores
of thunder
taste the fleshy grasp
of shoulders weakness

curve the dark surreal
dream on knifepoint
dead its hour taking
its shape desired
by reckoning
and dread

there are brilliant
spheres of wonder
birthing in helium
heights
in dash wonder
flecked in sights

drowned in sordid
mellow
the petal drenched
l'image only leads
becoming and
sounding in the need

...

Old Miners epitaph, ...My Dad

Angels weep as the sun sets
nature breaths a last long sigh
time for all his children
to listen to god's lullaby.

Willows weep to the water
As the sun bids the day adieu
The angels light their candles
and make the shadows move

all creatures watch the happening
and time is held to account
nature looks on through a mother's eyes
as the old miner's lamp goes out

MID-SPRING EVE

Sitting on the deck out back
a glass of red wine in our hands
as spring wind varies stiff to slack
blackberry winter stalks the land

Your fine hair lifts and flits about
as season's zephyrs stir the air
my scalp chills where hair fell out
I guess we must look quite the pair

Limbs which quivered without leaves
now garbed, toss and tumble 'round
showing new resistance to fresh breeze
they make a soothing rustling sound

Ellada, Ellada

I had a dream the other day, it was quite vivid
Surrounded by madness in the streets of Athens
Small children begging for Euro’s from Mother Germany

Old men lit on fire to show their frustration
Trust became the wrapping paper of a gift
I could see the sobbing of wise philosophers
The religious say we lost faith in our maker
As the hope for our future is calmed by tear gas

Deadly

Hast thou forsaken me for deadly ghost?
Hast thou forgotten me with brightly smile.
Thou art a greedy, heinous, deadly host.
The face that show your evilness is vile.

You are but a false "most closest friend".
Your lies will no longer be felt dead.
Faking friendliness at most twisted bend.
Pushing me onto a cemented bed.

However friendship stands the test of time.
Anyway I fear it won't be the case.
Your behavior shifts many paradigm.
Your sarcasm hits just like every mace.

Autumn Afternoon (from prose to poetry workshop)

Autumn Afternoon

view from my front porch
affords me vistas
from
the Autumn seasons
cornucopia
of vibrant foliage
as my heart dances
with the journey
of the falling
wind blown leaves

later in my room
scribing letters
to my artist friend
on a far away shore
looking out my window
I see the wind has risen
by the fluctuating movement
of leaves against
the background of
moving clouds in the sky
and my amazement of nature
is monumentally increased

The Silent Observer

Radiant faces? Façades for emotional anxiety
Sparkling eyes? Masquardes for the gloomy
These masks!
Flashy smiles concealing their pitiful quivers
Hearty laughter obscuring shrieks for mercy
It’s all a mask
A model walking the runway? Skin accompanying bones
He coughes but the sound the reaches me is of rattling ribs
It’s all a mask
A person jogging? Just one trying shake off stench from a dungeon
A couple moving hand in hand? An iron grip making claim
It’s a mask

Untamed temerity

Untamed temerity

Broke the morning air with an uneven stride,
stole three kisses from a bachelor’s loving bride.
Surely I was happy I had nothing of worth to hide,
been working so hard to turn down my secular pride.

Wave after wave kept rolling on their wetted sand,
kept my powder dry, my canon close to my left hand.
the nihilistic brotherhood of toff’s couldn’t understand,
you pluck no other’s strings if you’re a one man bland.

Aussie Legends

Through thick of sniper fire and raining hell,
along the dire trail of Shrapnel Gully,
to haven, bore three hundred men who fell,
did John Simpson Kirkpatrick, and his Duffy.

I was, from crib, encouraged to admire,
how Private Simpson at Gallipoli,
took wounded to the beach from front-line fire
so gently, carried by his donkey, Duffy.

It’s one of many legends of Gallipoli,
elaborated on throughout the century;
exaggerated, it’s a certainty,
but true’s the tale of Duffy, Simpson’s donkey.

MY BIRD-FRIEND

I cannot believe, this very dove
With which I once shared immense love
Is perched on my windowsill
Singing to me in a voice soft as silk
….
Years back, it made me smile and glow
Yet I knew deep down I’d one day let it go…
With my heart as tight and hard as my fist
I stood by and watched it fade away like mist

So what is this music I hear this day?
Riding on the back of past times from, far, far away…
Filling my heart with such sweet melodies
Stuffing contagious laughter in my cheeks?

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.