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Neopoet Weekly 10/13/24 to 10/19/24 Winner!

 

 

Congratulations to This week’s winner Trail

 

DRIFTING CLOUDS

 

The sun rises a little earlier each day
And each day is brighter than the last
On evenings I walk out to see the sunset
And I walk back with a rested soul

I've tried to be more sincere with myself
To hold my own hand
As I walk through the darkness
To sing to myself once in a while
So that I can hear a voice
Of someone who loves me

It hasn't been an easy ride
But the clouds are coming back from the south now
And with each wave I get a feeling
That it's all going to be alright

I'm waiting for the first rains of the season
Hoping that just maybe
The heavy part of my soul
Will be washed clean
And I can smile again
Even if it's just for a while

I carry a weight in my heart
But when the breeze blows, I look up
I am stunned by the majesty of the clouds
And of the moon, and the stars
This, I think
Is how I survived for so long
A.Swantalala

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

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

"A Tree"

The seedling sprouts, it bursts through ground,
silently growing, never making a sound.
First is the stem, then comes the leaves,
now watch a seedling, growing amongst trees.
In its lush green meadow, a trickling stream,
its roots swarm to the water, its elixir, its dream.
Small animals calling its branches their home,
as it hears insects wings drone.
Still standing silent, never making a sound,
content in its world, content in the ground.
It listens to songbirds singing away,

Birth Of A Killer...

Lying on the battlefield, stunned by a near death blow
He was woken by fetid breath, cold as the new fallen snow
He felt the sharpness of the teeth, pain exquisite, so bright
He was slipping from this world, when a bolt came through the night

Blue flame surrounded him, and he heard the hammer fall
The "god of thunder" had heard... a true, great warrior call
The vision of that horror, a thing that was of the night
Was limned, struck down and blasted, from his very sight

MOCKING WORDS

Opinions form before words
they swarm every syllable
subjected to recourse the
hollow hoarse, what else
of course.

Reasons fall victim to treason
upon any plinth that shatters,
the faithful rally not now
don't dilly dally.

The brave never behave
fame etched here on the
grave, remembered in verse
departed yet still belong.

I digress at your behest
my time in passing I won't
invest, subjected but none
the less beyond the intersection
of interaction may well detest.

Deprivation

Deprivation

Deprivation
Is the sperm,
For poetic emotional creation,
Without which there can be
No procreation.

Two are needed,
One a sperm
Another
An ovum
And
In creativity your are
The natural sperm
And
Mind, is your ovum

cedarline

brush the rain
that draws
the light
in beads

the steam
on the glass

radiator growling
and the television
fills the emptiness
and chases
darkness into corners
and under beds

I wait forever
for tommorrow
and falter in ruins
I have cast

and I think of
the cedarline
cold rains
that fell

and where you
are in memory
and in my heart
where you dwell

Winter Oaks

The undressed oaks of winter
Stretch their fingers to the sky,
Contemplating autumn's end,
And sharing silent wintry cries.

Brown leaves have faded to the ground
And back again to dust,
Breaking underneath my feet,
Veiled beneath the frosty crust.

They stand helpless in the bitter cold,
Some bent from ancient storms,
Keeping watch in winter's twilight,
These majestic, dormant forms.

Polemic Senryu

,

but you started it
yes of course I did my friend
I always do.

,

Golden Locks

                                  REFERENCES:
 Inspired by the Norse Myth: Sif's Golden Hair: How Loki Wrought mischief in Asgard. (compilation: The children of Odin Padraic Colum 1920) Source: Sacred Texts Archives @ sacred-text.com  Many different compilations to choose from, great resource for inspiration. Kat                            

Those Blasted Jeans

Those Blasted Jeans

Who so ever invented jeans
For women
Had never had one
The whole day
They now compare the gait
Some have even outdone men
When they capture powers
Man feels with undone zippers,
Like they appear out in the open

But as the sun decides to wrap up,
Come the gals home
That’s when about them
Guys, hubby’s, boyfriends roam.

Down with the jeans they say,
Come let’s play
That’s the only way
They can their manliness display

Now

Each instance of existence
is the truth of my reality,
fleeting moments riding high
on spreading waves of past
into all futures.

I am not made of past,
for as new moments
turn to then, it dies;
I am not future,
nebulous, undreamed of
by new choices not yet made;
I am neither then nor when,

I am this now,
immediate in present,
a life upon the cresting apex:
behind me, withered and forgotten past,
before, bright chaos undefiled by choice...

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