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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.

 

Vision

I watch you as you watch me
Your glaring eyes sink into my screen
And I'm all you see
All around you
Becomes invisible
Once i'm turned on
I've seen you laugh
many times
and cry on occasion
but usually you just stare
Motionless
Filling your head with my filth
I do have some worthwhile
things to offer
You just have to search
Dig Deeper
Hunt
And you may learn something
or expand your horizons
or even be inspired
Just don't stay too long

springing global warming

This is spring

beautifully musical...
spring is at the doorstep here
but tis still minus six...
perhaps a day more
winter may like to stay

if spring comes
can summer be far away...

then all of us will say
Global Warming by the way and

the scorching heat will burn our skin
soft cream we all shall apply ...
the ointments price will rise sky high---
then we shall say blast the economy

come rain and take the heat away
some one will say
let winter stay...

POETIC JUSTICE

POETIC JUSTICE ITS JUST US THIS IS MY FIRST POST AND ONLY POETS I JUST TRUST JUST POETS IS A MUST ITS LIKE A SEXUAL THRUST THE EXCITEMENT FULLFILLED ENJOYMENT TO DISCUSS ON PAPER POETIC JUSTICE READS WITH A RUSH POETRY TO ME IS LIKE A CHILDS FIRST CRUSH.

NO MORE RIBBONS

No reprieve, no second chance
No turning back to do, undo
Time has passed her by
Without a glance

Life unfair, left in despair, no more ribbons in her hair
What had been grace and beauty
Now turned to songs unsung
And no one there to listen or to care

Fading flowers, empty hours
Potential unmet, doors now shut
Empty dreams o'er which to grieve
Life once sweet, now turned to wine that soured

burning candle flame! (live visual..)

burning candle flame!
(live visual..)

she is like a candle
cold but very still
held in a lovers hand
so very still ...
till she is lit and flame starts flickering,
she flickers,flickers too
but slowly ,silently...

her body curvaceous
wriggles within
the arms of her consort
now she can’t slip out…

the flame warms up gradually
the wax begins to melt
lover her lips does cement
with breezes

he softly does blow
to make her brightness glow

The Mendicant

Fastidious

Starched shirt paisley tie
Both frayed
Worn with dignity

Suit shining witness
To countless years
Service

White silk handkerchief
Mottled as ancient cream

Shoes cracked
Polished to a glow

Meticulous

He is seminal
To the community

A profession
Of great regard
And universal need

His chambers
City Hall square

The town mendicant
Providing
Chance for giving
And receiving

Gratitude

Shimmer

The ordinariness of the day
contrasted to the
epiphany
that followed...

Another tedious chore
the packet of false
images
stayed on the bathroom
floor

Always led to believe
youth captured
now held ransom
to self- fulfilling prophecy
of age intrigue

The beauty peddlars
stupid suits
but women pardoners too
convinced us
with trickery
that grey hues
were meant only
for the truth meddlars

THE BAG MAN

When we first moved in here,
there was a bag man,
well, an old age pensioner,
who passed by the building every day,
carrying a white plastic bag,
stopping occasionally
to rest on a bench;
he was to be seen so regularly
that one looked out for him.

The story goes, in haste they flew.
A sudden urge within them grew
to conquest and for glory's sake;
to win the day, the prize to take.
With Tantalla, they swiftly made 5
their way through many nooks and shade
and under boughs and over tree
they sped like wild birds, swift and free.
Their larking made her break to song
and Tantalla raised up a throng 10
of dancing trees and bowing leaves.
The notes she sings with magics weave
to life the ancient grey lit trees
that rush in chorus, twos and threes

Virgin Butter

VIRGIN BUTTER

I never liked re-heated espresso
stale Italian bread for the dunking
spread with early morning butter
pricked by an onion stick
the night before.

Burnt rubber and rancid
nausea and acid.

How I miss those year’s
my very best years
of continental breakfast
all together.

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