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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.

 

Sub-liminal Aware-less

42
facial recognition
pause the slow route in blue suits
from rows of cartops seem alike
they are unique..different
cruising in wrap arounds
designer glass...
Confident strides
Confident as I
watching with new
made friend drawing
smokes in cupped hands
while winter winds hurries
on its way finding its place
down the middle
and at sleeves loose

the slush like applesauce
pressed into shoe prints
and tire tracks
profile an inch deep

Trees by Philip Larkin (Right Word WS)

The trees are (coming) into leaf
Like (fables) almost being said
The recent buds (unfold) and spread
Their greenness is a kind of grief

Is it that they are (young) again
And we (grow) old? No, they (do) too
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain

Yet still the unresting (sprouts) thresh
In fullgrown (bodies) every May
Last year (had) (gone) they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, (afresh)

Workshop: 

A LEGEND IS BEING BURIED NOW 10 DEC 2014

A LEGEND IS BEING BURIED NOW 10 DEC 2014

Oh LORD!

Oh! Lord if thou does’t exist,
pray grant me a final wish
that ere they bury me or incinerate,
in the cloudy rain and snow
the sun weeping silently
behind darkened clouds...

''''just a small wish...''''

give me life for just a wee moment,
to be able to rise and thank
all standing in ovation,
to praise me hence...

The Right Word WS TREES by Philip Larkin

The trees are grind into leaf
Like dust almost being said
The recent buds sprout and spread
Their greenness is a kind of grief

Is it that they are green again
And we feel old? No, they grew too
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain

Yet still the unresting leaf thresh
In fullgrown tree every May
Last year hallelujah amen they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, again

Workshop: 

It's an age thing

Damn it you out there, it is enough.
Reached out and feeling nothing
Crying again at some dumb ass problem
Can’t shake off this lethargic presence
It seems to have taken up residence.

Stair that are far too steep for me
People that make me so angry
Can’t they see what I see each day?
Why are they so bloody blind?
No energy to even curse them my way.

O friend

O My Friend

Hurling Poetry

eye lids drooped

brain can's
garbage lid
slid
slammed
dumpty down
thumping
the gray matter
a cranial grave

lumpy brain drippings
drooled off his tongue
a bloviating
poet
had become undone

spewing now:
semi-literate giblets
a mash of gargled verbiage
a hash of balderdashery

...voila!...

a unique rhetorical feast

his agent booked a full page spread:
" a fresh sensation,,, served
with french wines and bread"

Colors

The horizon had a violet hue,
Turquoise waves lapped far and few...

Perched on rocks black and askew,
Amongst the couples he felt so blue...

A crimson sunset was the view,
Wet yellow sand stuck to him like glue...

Returning tanned was a fishing crew,
Followed by white chaos that flew...

Shades of gray made their nets look grim,
But the silver shone as they swam aground...

Hung on a chain with green seaweed trim,
A rusty anchor groaned as it slowly drowned...

Memories Of A Runaway Child

Sick of the cycle of loneliness,
forgotten birthdays, broken promises
and empty moments stretched by boredom,
my heart longed for its freedom!

To my parents, I was invisible,
a voice to be ignored, dead to their world.
Their endless search for fortune left me,
playing with ghosts of my fantasy.

Their house was not my home,
its a prison made of stone
where dreams were forsaken
and hope stumbled and crumbled!

Acquiesce

The question wasn't about love.
I merely asked if you could live with me;
this me that I am now;
this person that I have become.

Your response stood between us,
a schoolyard bully clenching its fists
just daring me to make a response.

I gazed at the ring on my finger,
took recollection of my vows.
I slid 20 years off for a closer look.

It was then that I realized it was broken;
that this ring couldn't hold love anymore
for it had a rather large hole in it.

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