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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.

 

An Epitaph

The digits, that reached you
Behind a strip of red
Hiding, just as you
Lifeless.
The end, unwritten,
In one last cold breath.

Perhaps, your greatest trick
Was convincing me
That you never existed at all?

I remember
Alone in an alien town, with you
Drenched in one another’s tones
Your eyes, filled with affection
Mine overflowing with longing
A breakfast we will never forget
An evening we can’t help but remember

HOE'S BLADE

This garden was so well begun
fresh ground broken fine and deep
beneath a free and warming sun
after winter's dark cold sleep

Laid out with a studied eye
each seed planted in it's perfect row
fertilized beneath an azure sky
a few storms, and it began to grow

Each sprout came up green and strong
unmarred by either storm or pest
thinking nothing could go wrong
we decided it was time to rest

Give Me a Break !

Each musician plays their instrument
with fellow prodigies, one can bet;

when the "gig" does finally, get underway
he's not focusing on the music in each set.

What this minstrel quietly contemplates
isn't the forty-five minutes he's, played;

what really stands out in his "first mind"
is what's owed to him, after the music's been made.

You see, out of each, and every hour
fifteen minutes are his own,

My time is not up yet

In the frolic of
folly i amaze
into metaphorical mystery
i gaze.
Stark naked eyes
unknowing
the blank.
A mysery self-wrought
in the brooks
and
woods walked.
Then the last breath
shall surge
half in half out.
My soul if i have one
may submerge
In the glorification
of time
I thought
was once only mine..

FAMOUS BOYISH SMILE

FAMOUS BOYISH SMILE
©Cyrus Dali Vesuvala

Did you ever think just what you cost her?
Or, were you only having your fun?
Now you know that you’d already lost her
When you thought you’d just begun...

You wooed her with your innocence,
You wooed her with your style,
You wooed her with the freshness of
Your famous boyish smile-
You stripped her of her self-respect,
You stripped her of her shame
And, to strip her of her everything's
The essence of your game…

Saturday morning

brown stains on freshly-mowed grass
death comes mourning,
to others
the gift of light receding
earth-roots tapping
less the water

replicating patterns of beauty
in near-death experiences
we hold what is dear close to old visions
scattering prisms of hope
and hope
love will find a way.

It's Periodical

There's something that is a really changing
and that, can also heal a broken heart,

some days, it's a moving tediously slow
other days, it'll tell you, you can't start.

Seems like folks are always running out of it
and, there's even an iced cold, Miller one,

it folds, and melds into some sort, of a kind of a table
yet, had to create different zones so we could get things done.

It's only but an increment of measure
but claims, all along to be on your side;

Shoreline

There is a breathlessness upon this shore
at dawn, gold sand whispering with rush of water
before the breeze becomes a wind,
and people start to stain the land.

In all the moments of my life,
each second fractured into infinite new parts,
the only other place I feel so timeless,
so encompassing, is in your arms.

Where blue water reaches up from depth
to touch my skin, I feel your thigh
pressed close on mine, as warm as risen sun
splintered into shards by gentle waves.

Day by Day

We walked into the darkness
Blinding the bestowed gift

People fell before our sides
And yet, cold blood is what it was

Only the wretched hope
Laid within our bloody grasp

The once ideal promise
Captivated our fragile hearts

Nevertheless, all decays
Into that tale told in the past

Life leaks its own hidden wounds
Never knowing if we’ll return

To Ken, a good man

A good man,
a kindly man,
a good neighbour.

He's been a drover and a banker,
imagine that!
The stories he can tell,
of aborigines singing the cattle to sleep at night,
of his bush mates
singing and telling their ballads by firelight.

I showed him my poem
"Time goes round in a straight line"

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