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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.

 

I am Pharaoh

I am Egypt, I am Pharaoh,
I build my Empires on your backs
Work your bones to marrow
Place these stones into stacks

The world will kneel at my might
With whips and sickles you'll bleed
I'll work you from sunup to midnight
Your children will never be free

You'll never be human in my eye
Just slaves in rags with no rights
I'll live in my tower you built so high
In poverty holes your home sites

BUBBA (for wes who thinks I'm in a rut)

Bubba is a good ol' boy
who lives not far away
in his life he finds much joy
in an unusual way.

You see Bubba knows everybody
that you might think to mention
('specially after a night toddy
which dilutes his attention).

A friend of his got tired of this
NO one can know everyone
So he decided he'd fix this
and shut up the favorite son.

ACROBATICS :updated

ACROBATICS

On a flying trapeze
high in a summer breeze
no net below to catch my fall
I ride Life's winds
no cares at all.

I live for the joy
of the moment
and never look down
into the darkness I know

Time flies with me
and I hold on
as long as I can
but I'm starting to fall
again

you won't hear a sound;
no thud, no sigh
no weeping eyes
will follow me down.

Priest of the pyre

Castle black; of ashes
Burning on a swamp of fire
withholding self-
And 'em stones and saphire
One fall a thousand feet
Lies in ruin a temple and shire
A Priest rests in grave
Breathing smoke from the pyre
His eyes closed-
Wearing a face of gold
In his wake lies the tomb
Of years young and old
With a tear he awakes
To witness a weather so cold
Wither and then he aches
With the dread one beholds.
In shadow he awaits
For the need of a blue sky

P H A N t A S I A

tummelt welt
burn walk
the cottonthread tapestry
ratchet locked in its bitter metal bit
in a night taught as satin
deep as the dark
that suffers in the mouth
of the wax
uttering
its flickering licks
and whimpered
depths

..

Foreign Girls

Abstract,
Pretty faces,
Midnight races,
Foreign places,
Caught in the bustle of this craziness,

Lost in translation,
Is an understatement,
Of a state of mind so tragic,

Magic,
That's the feeling,
Lights of the main street,
So blinding,
Foreign girls,
So intimidating,
Breathing,
Getting heavy,
Cool breaking,
Now I'm faking.

But the wind is so gentle,
So I mellow,
A midst the vapor,
Emotions taper,

My Bouquet

Coiffed in bouquets-my flowers and roses,
every color presents a meaning;
indigo, ivy, and yellow daffodils
charming red, to flame the feelings.

Red is passion, love and energy,
orange summons moments of happiness.
Yellow's clarity, gold, and truth while
blue enhances the dreamer's calmness.

Facts of existence

Facts of existence

We can't totally ignore reality
can we?
anyone who has walked this path once
must know only truth prevails
behind us......

once one has gone
that we call
character and integrity
all else is
WAFFLE ISN’T IT?

Mammals
to include humans
have navels
that only shows...
A and E ..
they too were conceived..

the Internet makes us wiser
day by day....
Theory of genes...
thus prevails

Date Night End In Murder

There is a lot that's going on
My wifi is off, car is down
I purchase one day of wifi
And a rental, Nissan Sentra

Watching another murder case
There is a lot that's going on
This man is a real life monster
He killed his wife who loved him so.

He shot her close range in the head
Then put a bullet in her heart
There is a lot that's going on
I can't imagine this evil.

Matchstick Coffins Matching.... Ends

Matchstick Coffins Matching…. Ends

Lowry’s matching figures walk my streets,
escapees of a man’s suitcase by the door.
Flat caps duly doffed as each one greets,
that very thin waver of life we so adore.

Despair in their eyes, they’ll die young,
some vie to get there by a means test.
This is not a theory that’s so far flung,
poverty will ruin lives till we invest.

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