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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.

 

Petrarchan Sonnet Workshop

(for Eric Christopher Crawford, R.I.P. my friend)

There is a breath to live; a breath to die.
Your last exhaled beneath a killing moon;
a drawn and gasped a hundred years too soon
as we invent a god to question why.

All dressed in paint and Sunday's best, you lie,
another victim to that cancer goon;
another saint amidst a bag pipe tune.
What reason is there, that I cannot cry?

STREWN

clockwork
decibels or power
transition

shadowplayers

EVE edit

EVE

A little blue sky
a little sunshine
some clouds strolling by
a day to be alive.

But Eve is gone.
Passed just yesterday
time to cry
time to pray
time to mourn a friend,

though pain seems to end
it lingers still
in the heart

a little blue sky
a little sunshine
some clouds strolling by
a day to be alive

Black Widow - (Revised)

[First few words- This revised version of my maiden attempt at Sonnet is largely due to the help, guidance and patience of both Judyanne & Rula]

The sky was not about to cave on me
perhaps the daemons just had luck to -day
it wasn’t me that day, I have to say
so was it me, or was, perhaps, it she

she gave to me these wings, I’d none before
a lonely heart which knew not how to fly
she tugged the strings ‘til I could soar so high
then set me free, to dump me off her shore

I hope the day will never come to be
that trails no longer feel the booted tread
of aged men like me to nature bred
whose quest and goal are still to wander free.

Will days of summer green and autumn gold
become unseen by my children's eyes
likewise the flocks in cloudy skies
as both the fall and they become less bold?

The Siren Gale (Sunday morning)

The Siren Gale (Sunday morning)

It is morning, I hear the sky tearing
Itself apart, cloud limb from limb in gales.
No longer early and I wake to start
At clattering bailiff windows, so alert

I reach for reasons that are known, yet scrawl
Them down for comforts sake, before the dawn.
A snarling chainsaw nearby cuts the limbs
Casually from things that deem to give us air

Are We There Yet?

not all us men are rapists
but we dare not walk with pride
in case we fall into the chasm
of the amazon divide

many men agree with
the endeavour of your stride
though it seems we are not welcome
like our hands are best kept tied

we still have each other
we’re on the same damn side
lets fight the real enemy
the corrupt anointed snide

appealing to your virtue
with not so much to hide
together lets move mountains
and broach that great divide

rebirth (A Petrarchan Sonnet - Sonnet workshop)

the bushfire season blazes every year
as summer heat ignites the tinder frame
of old and dried out trees and shrub, to claim
Australia’s outback creatures’ greatest fear

it rages uncontrolled, to char and sear
and animals and people, kill and maim
with many homes at risk to smoke and flame
the nation comes to fight, from far and near

Planned obsolscence edit

Planned obsolescence

I am just a machine
of flesh and bone
with what they call a soul.
I have a heart that feels
and a brain that knows
off the same assembly line
as the rest of Mankind,
I am genetically defined
according to my prototype
allotted a certain time
before I begin to die.
There was no quality control
when I was made
so I, grow old,, decay.
and away I fade....

https://soundcloud.com/rula68/when-may-passed-by-1

Is spring in yet, or could the buds she eyed
have blushed the plains – that's where she often lies.
Is spring in yet, or could the scent in guise
perfumed ahead, before she'd deep, down stride.

Is spring in yet, why then do lilies hide?
They, shy, subside, but then they'd early rise;
she wakes, then they would show- those haunting eyes.
Is spring in yet, I see it broad and wide.

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