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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.

 

The Sun Bled Crimson Red--updated

THE SUN BLED CRIMSON RED

The sun bled crimson red
into the western seas
and fire blazed in the darkening skies
piercing wakes of fading sunlight
as the moon yellow pale broke the night.
icy Nordic waves rode on wings of fury
and the trees like skeletons danced
on gallows in the wind.
the fields lay fallow
the earth barren and still
and the noise of all living things
died in thuds of silence.

shadows imprinted in memory

above
an eagle's point of view
a symphony of green breaks
the monotony of sky on the
earth below,
sun, moon and stars pass overhead
with stories told but unsaid

vagabond bones on a dusty road
speak of time in a seed:
trees, rooted in dirt shed
seasonal leaves
like brilliant titles and musical
notes falling into human bodies
passing away the hours of memory.

We drift along elongated shadows like
rivers.

Classic Poetry As You Like It Composed three years ago

That Snowfall

The winter season, kept all of us waiting for snow,
the temperature was right for it, well below zero.
The chill factor of the wind kept me warm indoors
in my comfortable home with all of its three floors.
As the temperature fell we waited day after day
for the snow to fall which we hoped was on its way.

Facilitator Of A Dream

When my clear skies
Were occupied by clouds
The monotony mixed with
Irrational thinking kicked in

When rejection exchanged her vows
You were their holding faith
Like a dose of penicillin
to a wounded Soldier
in need of relief

Yes, you made a bridge out of
The torn pieces of my soul
Somehow you convinced
The sun to shine once more

You took the weight on my shoulder
And offered me shelter from
The world that swallowed me up
And spit me out like spoiled milk

Escape

It’s braw y’are its braw a’reet
Wi’ brilly natchers at yer feet
Tis one fer they an’ one fer me
T’ set tha brilly natchers free
So dinnae mumble dinnae fret
Tha has nae seen yon natchers yet
But when they come as come they will
Be sure t’stand rock solid still
Nae griping an’ nae felly soor
Wie brilly natchers at yer door

FANATICAL BIGOTORY

Union of partitioned sects
Ten coded commandments
Borrowed from Hamurabi
A heritage to Pharos’ past
Must testimonial judgment
Spectacles without light rays
Come as revelation in voices, sing
And compel me to be born again?

Must mutual friendship be betrayed
By illusions of belief in claims
Of self made uprightness
Oh! Holier than thou outlook
See others as legions of darkness
Assign vain, void and inglorious
Their hearts’ intimate realization?

Ode to Fellow Poets

“I write for self.” The poet often claims.
The scop has not been born who holds this true.
“I care not that the world should know my names.”
These very words I’ve spoken as I grew.
“Allow me but the chance to bare my heart
and all shall be forgiven of mankind
when disregards he will my poesy’s light.”
Such contradiction must remain a part
of every poet base or skill refined
if ego is to be secure from spite.

She dyed he died...

She dyed he died…

The dyed red haired girls green gloves
came up under her nose, stifling a yawn
as she stared at the sexy designer dressed
girl in the chequered skirt with stunning
eyes all dreamy.

Perhaps she subdued more than a yawn
while her fingers flicked about her nose
giving her face the impression of a kitten
in comfort surrounded by empty saucers,
whiskers all creamy.

STREAMER

lace of contrail
bitter cold
that window of sky
before the clouds came by
and streaming rains
that rush against the glass

and the radiator strives
shivering out its thin heat

unwell the darkness in your eyes
swells
your anger hitching in your breath
we sip our tea
and search the rooftops
green with light
this thick pressed front
is walking in

our history dwells
like static between us
the passion a ghost
we are formal
passengers
in a grey pic

Christmas at Last

CHRISTMAS AT LAST

Hurrah! Its Christmas, once again,
And time to get out in the rain
And sleet and frost and hit the shops!
Like toothache, so good when it stops.

A present, for some young relation
with attitude above her station.
Whatever she is given, why,
She'll pout and sulk and roll her eyes

They get so much, but still want more
Designer labels, classy stores.
But not this year! I won't be moved,
The sum I spend won't be improved

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