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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

 

Autumn Arrival Image Prompt Contest Winner!

 

The Winner of the Autumn Arrival Image Prompt Contest is  scribbler

 

AUTUMN'S CUSP

 

 

Mid October a cool day
with a northern cooling breeze.
All hints of summer gone away.
The few green leaves are just a tease.

Tomorrow will bring the first frost
so this day finds me 'neath the trees
absorbing warmth before its lost
and limbering up titanium knees.

For I'm not what I once was.
Time has seen that I am not,
So I sit on a stump to take a pause
and breathe autumn's scent which I'd forgot.

Then turn my face up to the sky
as cool front winds begin to blow.
I watch the clouds as they race by.
They leave like friends I used to know.

My eyes water from sun's glare
so I drop my head down to my chest
letting my chin settle there
while I count the ways that I am blessed.

I'm blessed with our cabin in the trees
I'm blessed with seeing one more fall.
I'm blessed with grandchildren to tease.
I'm blessed with being here at all.

I watch a squirrel climb to its nest
for now the sun is getting low
so ere' it reaches ridge's crest
I arise then turn and go.

 

                         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 Iron Lady: Margaret Thatcher

I wonder if anyone had forecast
her passing away...
to my mind thoughts continued to come
should I or should I not
compose a poem

and

Mark Antony came to mind
in Julius Caesar he hath said...
as Brutus must have

Here I come not to praise Caesar
but to bury him...

we must all leave our
differences and idiosyncrasies behind
after one has gone...

we all become equal bones...
devoid of flesh

Yang and Yin...

The Golden Dragon of the Sun
chases his brother from the night

Through the hallowed heavens they race
It is more like play than it is fight

The scales of each fall from the sky
Silver scratches on ebon’ sheet

Amazing to our humble eyes
This delicious, wondrous treat

Black Dragon of the velvet night
pushes the moon across the sky

Keeps the silver disk from falling
making sure it’s high and dry

Golden Dragon of the burnished day
blows fire and warms the field

Morning

Silently she sleeps.
Arms outstretched in random fashion.
Body innocent in naked frankness.
Hair, rich golden billows, cloak her pillow.
A smile. face calm. Eyes gently closed.
Breasts rise in time to easy breaths.
Sun, filtered through lazy leaves from
Old oak trees, envelopes her and plays
shadow games on her demerara skin.
I trace her wondrous lines.
She mews and purrs
And softly moves to bring my hands
to play where her body needs they be.
My finger’s tips are gentle, slow and soft

Chinadoll

I remember your hands

and their journeys

firm and sure

they planed my hips

smoothing thighs

to abandonment

 

you touched my eyes

asleep

as if you could see

the visions of want

in my dream

rimming my lips of the taste

lingering from my last meal,

(sometimes you)

 

your hands haunt me

like ghosts of themselves

where once, you would need

to feel the pressure of us

 

now,

you pick me up like fine china

pressing my hands to your lips

When Johnny Comes Marching Home

WHEN JOHNNY COMES
MARCHING HOME

And the troops
came marching home
in files of six and seven
raking
the city streets
like a razor's edge.
And when they passed
four turned their head
the ones on the end
stared straight ahead

The war was over
and the living marched
side by side
with the dead
and Johnny came home
again.

P a p e r w a i s t

there
out of the blue
soft cuts like runs the rain
crawling
like a naked branch

we flinch in the window
starlight flood
waking in the clearing of
the storm

water falling like thoughts
rapid like breath
the heavy steps of heat in
the walls inching through
the pipes to the heater

samosa coffee in the cup
like warm dreams
the untested kisses
resting in breaths

learning poetry still

you now seem to be taking...
poetry classes

as titles you choose confuse
you said springs
I thought of a couch
how it would spring

then was amazed to see
the natural spring,
no not of fountains rivers and streams
but those with which nature does spring

you are one great one
sometimes you count dawns...
now springs
are you adept at seasonal abacus
my, why do I have to fuss

you really meant the spring
after autumn
skipping winter ....

WHILE I THINK

Do not disturb me
while I think,
I think a lot of things
and even if I look askance
the brain cells are at work, 
doing a dance of thoughts,
that like the game of chess, 
change places and congress.

Words file past doors of memories, 
or stop to take a break, 
or merge with other centuries, 
digress,
their colours like cameleons 
go through such metomophoses,
they end up fixed and even on my page, 
the second stage. 

TOYLAND

TOYLAND

I turned the light to dim
as day was slowly dying
into Horizon blue
crimson red.
shadows of a pale sun
danced across my bed.
the noise of living faded
into dream
where I found peace
again.

COUNTING SPRINGS

There is no warmth outside today
when ice and sleet cover the ground
beneath a freezing sky of gray
whose cold winds set the pines to sway.
No hints of autumn to be found.

For this is winter at its worst
no thoughts of spring come into mind
shoulders hunch, cold lips are pursed
I survey a landscape that seems cursed
a world described, at best, unkind.

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