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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.

 

Snow White and the Witchy

She's too harsh to be of any help, they said
her blunt honest truths cause her much pains
many mouths shouting obscenities, disdain
no apologies as she's right so, she's seeing red

Sanity is as feathers blown from your head
like a mist common sense is gone gone
"we got this, don't need ya" you said
"I got power of authority he's my dad" wrong

admission

Kronos, who steadfastly, slowly crept
in my childhood Mays
now sprints past, sometimes in spasms
seemingly, sometimes, jumping whole days

I wander in a beautiful garden
in those missing hours
memories are misty in my mind
but I still can smell the flowers

a face fades in and out of my vision
a stranger, yet I should know him
I stare at pleading, soul ravaged caverns
as sparkling diamonds form at their rim

white spots

White Spots
white....but not the white of fallen snow
spots.....not associated with new fawns
white spots
................stealthy invaders
white spots
................harbingers of a styx trip
white spots on X-rays
white spots
...............theives of loved ones, friends
cancer
I hate white spots

It Could Have Been

A dark and dreary day it could have been,
A funeral procession,
Heads hung in mourning numbers,
A young woman in infinite slumber,
Buried in rich red velvet and dark mahogany;
Her friends and family in agony.
They ask, "Why did she want to leave?
To go, and make us grieve?"
The thick gray headstone might have read,
Our daughter, Forever, we lay her to bed.
Then they'd walk away, weeping
And she'd just be sleeping...

Reunion

The night spreads its wings of darkness
across the heavens- above
as the moon's graceful light returns,
greeting the mistress earth,
joined by the clustered stars,
the twinkling diamonds of paradise,
listening to the song of the crickets
which breaks the silence
in the air.

Civilization (for the sonnet workshop)

“… for man’s society is at an end.”
Announcers can be rather dull at need,
especially when spewing such a feed.
“There’s naught much else to say than that, my friend”.

The last ‘lectronic voice went round the bend.
He too had friend and family to feed.
The all that now is left, a solemn creed,
is trust that God an Angel born will send.

In deepest jungles of the R. O. C.,
a dozen men and women labor long
to find that which Man’s certain can’t be found.

the rich get rich, the poor get poorer, true
as finance funds the power structure quest
affluent with authority are blest
while making rules that benefit the few

with ignorant and selfish aims they screw
just anyone they can, from east to west
not caring half a damn who’s life's a jest
for others’ pain and care, they have no clue

Just Practising! - with iambic pentameter

The robin sings it's song atop the tree.
A tuneful sound, resounding melody.

The ROB /in SINGS /it's SONG / a TOP / the TREE
a TUNE / ful SOUND, / re SOUND / ing MEL / o DY

----------- iambic pentameter --------------

I haven't got the time, so says the clock,
my gears are failing, hence I've lost my tock.
My springs have gone all rusty with decay,
and so I can't recall the time of day.

halve me

I am only half

In 1970's I died in an accident
went to heaven

My doggy belt was held by my wife
as a dogs
and she pulled me back alive
I was recalled by humans

Half side almost dead
left-hand side of head
was bloated red

How I wish I had flown to heaven

Now again in late 1990's
I faced a calamity
the brain was again fractured
half an eye
half an ear
nerves pulsating

Franklin Square II

I love to walk in the damp fountain air
Watching those irreverent, inverted pissing geysers
Plummet on the great Man, in broad daylight streams

Lost in the ice, what would he give?
For such temperate relief as this.
I breathe in the moisture and look up at the sky of polarized dreams.

All is well, and I fill in the day, with the great slanted colour of rain,
I don’t care if the wind is wild in St David’s park
And sidelong blows, lead trees gracefully astray

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