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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.

 

ACCOMPANIMENT

Add a bit of music to this verse
and transform it to a song,
one in which you might immerse
and listen to the whole day long.

For background, rustling fallen leaves
as a squirrel seeks a last acorn
joined by a mourning dove which grieves
the loss of warmth this winter morn.

The woodwinds are the ducks and geese
whose notes vary from low to high
which they all gladly release
while conducting through a cobalt sky.

Collective Karma

.
this seminary of relativities

defines
rights and wrongs
miracles and abominations
awe and antipathy
love and loathing

perpetuates the corporeal world of
sensibility
vitality and subsistence

calibrates
the unfavourable and auspicious
evil and virtue
weak and strong
unhealthy and sound

so if come
malakim
messiahs
bodhi....

then needs be
lucifers
mephistopheles
ignorance....

howl at the moon

my dear,
howl at the moon

like a madman
in a cage

rip fragile clothes
from silken skin

and waltz

my darling,
laugh for nothing

but reasons
in the dust

for dust is but dust
when shown to the wind

my lover,
turn to me

let air
fill your lungs

and scream for me

for i wish not
to be

but those
who cannot speak
without smiling

so smile
leaving crows feet
at the door

and run my dear
run throughout the night

Sweet dreams..waffless

Sweet dreams

Sweet dreams are written in heaven
for those who are happily married

those still distraught
are in fallacious search caught

searching wild in the wilderness
all day all night

so let the wavering winds blow
and as we from here all go

late into the eerie night
day break bring violet light

let red roses spray fragrance too
of love and affection on all of you

like rainbows true
with a smiling hue

Phantom Skyclad

a spell on my intention
is a mother of invention
and I now believe the nymphs along the way

while this magic mathematician
wields the slight of her ambition
and my hand is waving on the child's play

the strummer of the lute
and the harlequin's new flute
are serenading that these rules are just a phase

her kind and open heart
says just because we’re worlds apart
it doesn't mean connections won't be made

GLINTZnGLIMMER

epoch the boney trail
through smoulder rising
streaks
black rails

the honey happiness
shattered standing
spring awaits
calls to those last planning

a crew is gathered
the rebels scattered
the ragged soil of
their kit tattered
The preacher in
his black and cross
annoints the kneeling
captured lost

in the veil of clouds
translucent rays
shine as a sign
of the truthes
the brave
shine off his
worn weapon
for the souls he's
about too save

renewed at daybreak

Once prismatic brilliance;
brilliant only through borrowed light.

Alone again in darkness, gleaming;
glum, instant companion of a night -

blind to grief and deaf to joy,
save by pristine thought on lone-ward height.

Ever calling, feline caterwauling;
In the distance horizon burning bright.

That sparkle in the eye is rekindled; 
Fully renewed at the break of day.

Reflection on the last Six Months

Last night I saw you stir,
you were half asleep as I was,
listless because life's
a dreary affair, what thoughts
you have of me I do not know,
but the flowers weep no more,

It was your hand that made the sign
and I looked the other way,
old dreams must die someday,
I sighed but still
I listened to the warm words
rise like smoke from your lips,
dead muse that walks again,

a realisation

people ask if I meditate still
as I did when my son was first missed
in hours of yoga each morning and evening
seeking answers, assuaged in still bliss

how to reply is a tad difficult
for I spend, I think, more time a day
but in seconds only, in quiet small fragments
never wandering too far away

because, in those epochs of pure golden light
that cleansed me waxed-white with its wisdom
I understood things not especially secret
but simple stuff I had forgotten

shards of broken glass

if all you tear
from age-old skin
is a shard
of broken glass

then how
will bravery
flow, through
tired brows

my dear
look me in the eye
and profess
i am not crying

for crying
is for the meek

and do not sing
as dawn cracks
heavy

for i raised you better
than to be a fool
frolicking in the grass

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