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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.

 

Cover page

I wrap the page around me
And huddle in the wind
Will the ink seep into my dreams?
I take the words I folded
And press them to my skin
Everything is quiet but the fading image screams

I wrap the page around me
And stand out on the brink
The sentence loosens and flows red - a bleeding cape
I take the words I folded
Held up to the rain, I drink
He held his hand over the words and forced them - a thoughtless rape

Many summers past

Many summers past, we were standing,
for each other’s dates anxiously waiting.
it was then our eyes did glance,
and their arrival we forgot, perchance.

it was then your eyes transfixed mine,
yes it was within our domain, we felt fine,
we stared and glanced and blushed,
at each other’s arms, naturally we rushed.

t was at the spur of moment god granted,
it was our union for ever which was supplanted.
That moment we still remember even now,
it’s good our meeting was fortunate somehow.

The Place

Love has carved a place for you,
Deep into my heart,
And it shines, and it glows,
Like a valley full of stars,
Time has claimed a space for you,
Burning in my chest,
And it warms me like an ember,
I find comfort and rest,
My eyes are heavily laden,
With dreams yet to be,
Sleep wakes me from my wanting,
A gentle rocking like the sea,
Filling the chambers of my being,
With emotions so strong and true,
Fueling the fire of the space,
In the place,
Love carved out for you.

The Garden of Love

The Garden of Love

He fortook a ounce of belly flutter
Warm glances caught him by surprise
His cold can of frozen beer melted
As sunshine in her eyes made contact wih his.

Paper Airplanes

My imperfections are fuel to my passion
That live outside of your city limits
Oh, pray for my blasphemy

I do not hide who I am in my bedroom
I leave it exposed for the world to see
With your diagnosis I make many paper airplanes
That I throw back at you

H O M E L Y

wipes the hot spittle
life's no riddle
and sunlight slashs like a flare

words behind for ears to hear
slip like a noose about the heart
and neck

who said life was fair?

Vanity is wicked and the
smiles consume the egos
and ignorant snarls throw
back the change

steam rises from a cup
too anxious to belong
the eyes staring to move along

and the dream is the vivid
climax
awake my duckling ugly
beautiful this dawn
praise and clamour
in the sordid little pond

Waiting for the Doctor

Surrounded by red desert and blue ocean,
the city realises, and suffers
the magnified full impact
of the sweltering southern afternoon sun's
harsh, reflective rays.

While I seek the illusive comfort of shade,
sitting simmering in sweaty stickiness,
a vibration, a long reverberating thrum from within, rises,
unites with the oppressive weight of extrinsic heat
and wends its way into the very expanse of reality,
insidiously dulling my senses,
rhythmically sounding, echoing through my being.

there's nothing but love, my love

she was an American refusenik
and the eye of Ra
once gazed upon her

from dust
she fashioned a solitary word
that flowed
into oceanic verse
and weighted down clouds
to anchor roses to the sky

she burned through images
of what can never be seen
she turned pages blank

she was a blade of grass
aloft
a token of love lost.

PRE-MARITAL TRADE (Revised)

Let's not go down this lane
For when we start the journey
And gaze upon each other's nakedness
Knowing we have tied no nuptial knot
This is what we are;

We are two innocent souls on the edge
Conflicting thoughts flooding our heads
Thought of eternity...fading away into night

As fabric gives way to bare flesh
We know we should not be here
Yet hands caress bodies...lips find lips
Our consciences scream out...our hearts skip

The Return of She

It warns ones heart
to see the return
of beautiful faces we...
traversed with across the seven seas,
now in voices of sparrows
soft and sweet,
we can hardly wait to hear
the politest speech, of one
since long in hibernation,
as do some birds,
awaiting the return of a spring
ere the summer…
such melodious voices like cuckoo’s sing
and
songs of praise all poets murmur
the one we missed most,
now returns
and
the warmth of flames in our hearts does burn.

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