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Neopoet Weekly 09/22/24 to 09/28/24 Winner!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sat, 2024-09-28 15:22

   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!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sat, 2024-09-21 14:59

                                                                                      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!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Thu, 2024-09-19 21:21

 

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

Neopoet Weekly 09/8/24 to 09/14/24 Winner!

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sat, 2024-09-14 14:30

This Week’s Winner is  Edward nigma

 

 Cage of cards

 

 Chaotically clustered
cage of
cards covering
all
cynically silent
sides of life
plainly plastered
before my
persistently passing
presence of
the present day.
Thoughtlessly thrashing
out the leisurely
overlapping lanes
of possibilities
prancing through
the pressuring palms
of probability.
With a single stern stomp
taking back the cross
mask of control.
There steadily
stumbled down
the obliquely built
walls of ambiguity
freely falling at
my frivolously
fleeting feet.
Vigorously revealing
the vaguely vapid
valley of victorious
vultures who
persistently preys
upon the weak
minded ones
who decisively numb
themselves within naivety .
But still
I walk forth
ahead through
the foreboding facade
of fear
lying before me.

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

Neopoet Weekly 09/01/24 to 09/07/24

Submitted by neopoet contests on Sun, 2024-09-08 00:50

This Week’s Winner is Trail

 

Echoes

 

Once there was a man
Who wrote beautiful music
He wrote the music because he was sad
He was sad because he was all alone

But he was noticed for his music
He ended up being loved for it
And in being loved
He lost his sadness
And his music soon after

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

19 September Autumn Arrival Image Prompt Contest Winner!
14 September Neopoet Weekly 09/8/24 to 09/14/24 Winner!
8 September Neopoet Weekly 09/01/24 to 09/07/24
31 August August 2024 Contest Winners
View all community news

The stream (all workshops)

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

 

FEEDING TIME

Submitted by scribbler on Mon, 2013-02-18 13:26

Sleet shushes me this winter eve
and bounces off my old felt hat
as chill wind sneaks up my coat sleeves
stealthy as a stalking cat

With shoulders hunched I walk along
through white which barely dusts the ground
toward cows lowing their same sad song
beyond the barn toward which I'm bound

They spy me and come at a trot
as they do 'most every day
toward their familiar feeding lot
where I fill their racks with hay

yes you do.....

Submitted by loved on Mon, 2013-02-18 11:24

you make my day
as no one else does these days,
people walk my way
as never before
so many do come
to secretly read
the sexier.. blushier ones
silently...

now at times
I evaluate what I've written,
nothing from the world
has anything been hidden

all my poetry is off the cuff
I ain't no celebrity
nor, that kind of stuff ...
having plenty of
in a wallet ,called time

I compose poems
out of sync
many times out of rhyme

Impressionable

Submitted by sueb on Mon, 2013-02-18 07:59

Impressionable young women
encouraged to enter a trade
that oft belittles and degrades
detrimental to mental health
not worth the short-term wealth
people have become inured
forget the pain often endured
reality becomes obscured
to enter a life of vice
women can feel they have no choice
no other way they recognise
fed by their dealers lies
I always picture it seedy
making a living from the needy
pimps are just plain greedy
big men, in fact, weedy
I’m told its consensual

S H I M M E R * * *

Submitted by Esker on Mon, 2013-02-18 02:16

tremble in the voice

the night lair haunts
with empress mirrors
coiffed hair taunts

dream ember
sapped in turmoil
the golden age
unfurled

the parted world
in its weave
its magic

the last dance
in the bloody basket

First Evening

Submitted by BlueDemon77 on Sun, 2013-02-17 21:53

Report Poem

First Evening (Première Soirée)
by Arthur Rimbaud

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
Half nude, she clasped her hands.
Her feet trembled on the floor,
As soft as they could be.

I watched as a ray of pale light,
Trapped in the tree outside,
Danced from her mouth
To her breast, like a fly on a flower.

Workshop: 
GREAT POETRY (a workshop)

EPISTOLA FRATRI MEO

Submitted by Geremia on Sun, 2013-02-17 19:08

EPISTOLA FRATRI MEO
[Letter to my brother]

I am nothing more than who I am
I know my strengths and limitations
yet somehow I’ve failed
to meet others’ expectations.

Always judged but rarely judgmental,
I’ve spent a lifetime nailed
to one cross or another.
I’ve lived by my own golden rule
and I do unto others
what they have done to me.

My heart may be tender
My character of a nature kind
But I am no fool:
I am not blind to treachery
and can clearly see
a Judas trying to undo me.

My Dead

Submitted by club special on Sun, 2013-02-17 17:54

My dead voice-- a mockery
Of all that see

A clear vision-- That strides
Above the green sea foam

The muted eye-- an inward glance
That hides among the black roots of forbearence

Disclose arterial reality-- Cains left hand
Lifts the ocean from its smoking earthen cradle

And amasses secret lies-- below the tidal
Weathers embrace

Sunday at Wally World

Submitted by captjack on Sun, 2013-02-17 17:10

The weekly mad house.
Everyone in the “Ten Items
Or Less” line has more.
Dressed in finery straight from church or shorts
and flip-flops right from the morning hangover.
The week-to-weekers with buggies full of
plastic on plastic.
And an old gray haired guy
somewhere is smiling.
This is a long way from 1962
right Sam?

Vodka on Ice

Submitted by S.G. Blue on Sun, 2013-02-17 15:16

Exhale.
Long awaited and so in control of .....
All.

I read it.
It reads me right back.

Random music on
but
not
much
else.

His words speak heat.
He gives me language in degrees
that stick to my skin
like humid summer time, beg for some relief soon Jesus please...

TEXAS SUNSET

Submitted by Linda Moses on Sun, 2013-02-17 14:09

Brilliant, blazing, softly crimson
Aglow against the midnight blue horizon

Fingers strong and gentle, dipping into the glory
of the melting twilight sun

Slowly streaking the reddish hue
Across the complexion of the evening sky

What wonderment to the eye
The Ultimate Artist, proving He still can

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