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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.

 

Bright brittle light allows no lies
on my country's ancient hard worn lands
where indifferent spirits stay uncaring hands
from us who swarm it like so many flies.
Unlike the misty intimacy of Eire
for the numinous is ever present there.

But come the night over southern skies
the brittle bright light disappears in hued sands
sublime opens high over this outstretched land
as ethereal webs unfold a thousand eyes.
Unlike in the misty intimacy of Eire
the numinous shares the spacious outback's prayer.

Pastoral Poem Number One (Pastoral Poetry WS)

I close my eyes and hear it beckon me
recumbent countryside of being’s realm
a voice that whispers, come, be city free
with such desire, my heart is overwhelmed

to leave the dank and dirty urban street
its people tired, too busy much to care
to find a place with friendly souls to meet
and taste and feel and smell the rural air

see animated murals as they form
feel ever-changing landscapes, as they push
intensely fragrant pure ambrosial storm
from multispectral flowers of the bush

******G L I M P S E********

Hot charade
smolten
trease

melting in the glare
of winters cool dare
fitted upon the wooden
legged logic
of an ego
Bare

Haunted is the rock
an auburn glide
the wild eye
stripped to the
essential beauty
the essential depth
lashes like palms
mirage of mercury
sotto straddle
cherry rosen
hips
the promised lips
turned
a window
clear

Mirth decandent
ruinous doubts
the broken hearts
like ghosts linger
bout'

SUNSET (Collaborative pastoral workshop) (Stan & Rula)

In a rocker near the sliding door
he stares outside this winter's day
not saying what he's looking for.
Look closely, his eyes are far away.

For they are focused in the past
and forests where he used to roam
or streams on which he used to cast
far from this retirement home

The rocking went on, forth and back
as the sun set and rose again
while in his heart he kept a track
of spaces he'd escaped his pain.

Flirting with Ms. Sonnet

she looked so charming that I got deceived
she caught my eye with her pretty silk gown
I chased her around every street in town
i wished my good intent be well received

my flirting with her kept on getting strong
I tried to match her longish leggy stride
my legs were hurting bad the more I tried
is she good enough or did I get it wrong?

Stray Cat (Pastoral Poetry WS)

I used to befriend a stray cat
who was abandoned by his master
His once white fur has turned filthy
from his many adventures

My heart longed to keep him
but my parents won't allow it
so all I do is play with him
whenever I can make it

At times I fed him,
just to watch him eat
there's some happiness
in doing a good deed

Then a day came
that made me cry
I found him hurting
from the acts so vile

The busy city street, the quiet country lane
I know which one of these that I would choose
only one conveys me away from cluttered pain
so watch me as I don my walking shoes

As busy buildings fade with each unforced tread
and the raucous noise becomes a freeform mantra
I slowly lose my constant source of dread
and all the world becomes my growing tantra.

Pollonated and Picked... ( or Pap )

Pollinated and Picked… (or Pap)

It’s not just that I’m a Bee,
that gives my life a bit of
buzz. But being a Bee is me,
so you being a being and
being here once suited all of us.

I’m buzzing about here being my
planet, and sharing this planet’s
space with an all seeing human being.
I pollinate he or she picks it’s one of
life’s little tricks, he and she being
the beings all seeing.

Twisted stone

twisted stone
towers
arch like
broken backs
across a
brown-green sky

they are
monumental recognitions
of my tired,
worn,
long
nights
of waiting for the sun

the river runs red

while through the window
acrid smoke
spews and leeks
from hunks
of twisted steel
leering,
smirking
with 12 watt
halogen eyes
and burnt rubber
legs

yet i see
past

thorn of rose

your poem reminds me of
the rose that I once was

who ever tried to prick me wrongly
I pushed ahead my thorn

whosoever loved me
I lay bare all with which I was born

my petals
no resistance
till another rose like me was born

The guys went forlorn
as many came over to my fertilizing lawn..
when many more colourful roses were born
morn after morn

sad so many continued to be torn
mans world they say
why were you a gal born?

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