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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.

 

SKARBAIRN BURNZ

rise ruby lisp
like a jewel lip
the hot house leap

We the attic tenders
an ache of cotton
stretched upon our arms
and the tall haze of summer
climber of the yard

we hear static whispers
in transistor resistors
the wind torn towers
transmitting

we are dark ovid acres
carbon crystals in the light
we are the hunger of water
when our loves hurt and parched
passion wends our sight

Regretful Consequentcumstances

After flying extremely high
by my incompetent seat of my pants,
I finally took some time to study
how to turn down an awkward "dance".

Armed with this powerful knowledge
I'd look over both choice's results,
some asessments took me down fairer pathways
and with others, I just missed the boats!

Nonetheless, l owned each purchase
retaining what accompanied each choice,
Silently, I'll remember and regret them
or bellow disdain with my Big Daddy voice!

Just friends

Lately this just friends 
Thing seems  more like a one 
way street than any kind
Of friendly relationship 

one can't help wonder
if you wouldn't feel better
just doing your own thing

Does a person really
need that many
Friends anyway .....
Just a few good friends
that should be sufficient
But we all have some
want or need to be liked

Crumbs

What the hell?
In my eye,
that's where you fell.

What the hay?
You're s'posed to last
all freakin' day!

I wonder why
you insist on messin'
with my eye.

Quit it now!
Hold still while
I pluck you out.

Oh my god!
You're so big
and black and odd.

I hope no body
Else could see
How my eyeliner betrayed me.

gracious....gratia...

gracious

Sir you Sir me,
a non poet that I be
but
that you do read
yet not comment,
for that I have no lament

as you are on the Board now
will you introduce the system...
wherein we could once know how
many read
and
so to ourselves say
wow!.

No artist is complete
unless praise is showered
ones work is replete
Emotion-less
pathetic

Flickers

As ephemeral
as yellow leaves
on poplar trees
in early fall

Or the first frost
on window glass
doomed soon to pass
and thus be lost

So, too, grains
of years pass by
matters not how hard we try
on time we never will make gains

ON MY 70th YEAR:

ON MY 70Th YEAR
There is no wound deep enough
for regrets or recrimination
no yesterday worth sanctification
and no asking worth the knowing,

I am a question not an answer
and I anguish over my own mystery.
There is no Glory in living
for living is what we are meant to do.
There is no Honor in ending
for ending is what we have to do.

Desolation

Desolation

A sheet of paper as blank as my mind awaits inspiration.

Gradually my surroundings change and I find myself at the centre of a white wilderness.
A wilderness whose inhospitable landscape stretches endlessly from horizon to horizon flat and unbroken. Its sheer emptiness and desolation forces itself on my senses intimidating me.
Tears well from my eyes and freeze, glinting like diamonds in the midnight sun.

Unknown to me a kindred spirit looks back from the emptiness of space.

And .....

And,........
I don't really need
that many friends anyway
and, .......
I don't have
all that much extra time
and, .......
things always get complicated
and,......
calls get dropped
at the most inconvenient
moments
and, .....
text messages just tend
to aggravate instead of inform
and, ....
I get tired
and, .....
these fucked-up moodswings
come so suddenly
and
recede unevenly
or linger
like a gloomy overcast morning

To the Gods

To you,
that separated your children
creating this wide orb of confusion,
take a bow oh great and wonderful never was ...

Your end is around the bend,
the smell has hit your uh-oh senses,
found you missing your wit,
hard isn't it
swallowing your own shit.

One day I'll pilgrim my way to you,
find your scent among the adders
and constrict your venomous spoutings.

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