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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.

 

yes we all are

We all are masters of ourselves
each one is fatty may be distinct
you and I
may be a bit fatter
that perhaps
but then what of that

I can still walk a mile
a day
from morn to noon
you may kindly so say

the banks of Jordan (March contest)

I’ll be waiting by the Jordan
the far side bank where water’s clear
where sands of self are washed of dun
to wipe the veil of life’s veneer

so worry not that I am lost
I’ll be waiting by the Jordan
and by that river I have crossed
I’ll muse on what my soul has done

until your turn, when your tune’s run
and fate deems that we meet again
I’ll be waiting by the Jordan
and we’ll embrace each other then

The Evergreen Hearts (March Contest)

Come on my heart it's time to bloom
it's time to stir your buds alive
for spring is here, wipe out the gloom
where everything's a busy hive.

That summer's here, it's never late
come on my heart it's time to bloom.
It's never late to celebrate
and stroll across the peaceful flume.

When summer's gone, there is still room
for you and I are still entwined.
Come on my heart it's time to bloom
so leave those frowns somewhere behind

Thoughts About Life

How we lived our lives will define its quality
if it is a gift to be celebrated
or the shame of ignorance in quantity,
a mistake which needs to be corrected

The diversity in opinions isn't a reason
to bear the bitter fruits of enmity.
If we can all choose to be kind and tolerant,
we can witness beauty in variety.

A humble fool who is willing to learn
is more valuable than an arrogant wise man
for he seeks the way for improvement
while the other's pride makes him a poor friend

alliens and hedgemony

aliens are not necessarily travelers or seekers
they just have the shadow of death cloud among
knowledge of the function of its sting - its appropriateness
free from the illusionary effects of cinematography
controlled monsters on the 2,3,4, channels
what of the infinite channels, grow before you
into steep providence of tethers jackknifed
is man juice to another mans day, perhaps they are
the harps that zest the heart to music
plot to play to ease temporary maliciousness
on aliens who are the real dangers of the mind.

SYRINGE

Time buckles the facade
unwarped unwound
bound awake
buckle the belt
the shoe
the bag
and bolt

slip the little grip
with a tender wrist
the spit in the
oozing light
beg for night
neon
bullets of octavius
passion
crawling
from tubs of moribound
happy planet plans

iambic damn pentameter

iambic damn pentameter is not so hard to do
oh oops, it seems I’ve added here an extra foot or two
infatuated by the form, my muses simply glow
it seems that their enthusiasm’s made my verses grow

the words all flow, and you can see my muses full in song
at my expense, I have to say, the lines are getting long
so now I write heptameter - iambic too, it seems
and rhythm of the narrative, now from my fingers streams

Two Hands Hold

Two hands hold beneath a pillow
not a word is said even though
the clasp held either loose or tight
brings comfort on a stormy night
like the warmth from a candle's glow

What if the fingers do a plow
on palm of the other in love?
it's tell tale sign of hold me tight
two hands hold

When fingers caress in slow mo
like strokes of the strings of a bow
in sighs and moans lovers delight
like a swan ballet in moon light
to a breathtaking Soprano
two hands hold

DAY'S LAST THOUGHTS

I slowly close my eyes and stare
at the backside of just one eye lid
searching for what might be there
hidden deep within my Id.

But that part of me will not be seen;
who knows, it might be best that way,
better that I never glean
that darkness hidden past the gray.

So I sigh, start thinking quantumly.
Is reality there just if it's seen?
Seen by who? By you, by me?
Do we each perceive our private screen?

It's not that big...my home I mean,
but it's as sweet as honey could call.
When children's noise goes loud that brings
such calmness, love and peace to my soul.

No matter where our surroundings are
My heart and love will always be
Abiding in a country strange or far
Or where my parents love taught me.

No region, state is large enough
to hold the love of my small land.
Compassion and cacophony
I love my mad cap home

1. Rula
2. Ian
3. Wesley Snow

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