Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

I had not for this winter evening walk
my just passed friend with whom to talk.
But I had the cottages in a row
up to their shining eyes in snow.

And I thought I had the memories within, 2
Alike the sound of a violin. 1
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
of youthful forms and youthful faces.

I had such company outward bound.
I went till there were no cottages found.
I turned and repented, but coming back
I saw a shadow, but couldn't track. 3

Workshop: 

Missing Messiah

If I can be whatever I put my mind to THEN I WANNA BE THE MESSIAH

Mr. Microphone Mcgyver Mr. Survivor Almost died in the clutches of the man that contributed

to my birth within his eyes

I must've looked like the Viet Kong

The sun

Clouds, so soft, float across the sky
It fills me with joy, I don't know why
At the dawn, the sky is alight with fire
a sight that never fails to inspire
this poem that I wrote just for fun
for our special friend, the magnificent sun

Where are the lights

A December winter night in this country
and my neighbors hadn’t their boundary
with Christmas trees or Christmas lights,
in past years did shine bright.

I had been feeling well
and went out for a spell
to drive my boy to work on time.
the frowns on colleagues face had his pride.

Its been a while since I drove
my Cheverolet Aveo on the road,
but my eyes had been clear
and in my body, I had no fear.

On the way home I picked up from work
the man I call a spouse.

The Right Word WS Good Hours

I had for my winter evening walk
no one at all with whom to talk.
But I had the trees in a row
up to their shining leaves in snow.

And I thought I had the folk within,
I had the sound of a violin.
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
of youthful forms and youthful faces.

I had such company outward bound.
I went till there were no trees found.
I turned and repented, but coming back
I saw no window but that was black.

Workshop: 

>8< Hearts

twist
gleam
the red star
dream

logic in the lost
the tragic forth
the magic
lest

wander
squander
the towers
yellowed with their
warmth
the cold
turning
blood to ice
the flesh
to worlds
away

torn in the land
asunder
the lah
of living

semblance
acquaintance
dipped in her
lacquered hue
you read
through me
like a porous
note

'Til Twilight's Last Gleaming

another day arrives
on schedule, as usual

I am happy for it

a new day
ample and succulent
eager for all

it begins with a glow
chirp and chatter resume
the scent of cinnamon
spikes the air

I too, am now fully awake
beaming like a saturday kid

a deepity arises
giggly and wry

I snortle as I hitch up my pants

(Stan's Word WS) (Alteration of Frost's Good Hours)

I had not for this winter evening walk
my just passed friend with whom to talk.
Along I had the trees in a row
whispering playful sounds had come slow.

Then I summoned the memories within,
They played the sound of a violin.
The glimpse of the past interlaced.
and youthful forms were easily traced.

I had the pleasing laughter bound.
It evoked in me a sound so loud.
and though alone I headed home back
I wouldn't let his star dim-go black.

Workshop: 

Crazy Missing You

I've lost all reason
Since you've been gone
don't know if I can carry on.

This empty feeling
pervading me
is sapping all my energy.

Within this haunting
I'm in a flap
sorely troubled in doldrums trap.

So when the night folds
and twilight burns
I fidget sheets of toss and turns.

I'm going crazy
just missing you
I wonder, Do you miss me too?

-----------

the rural woman

the boa has excreted gold! - in etymology
cold sequin silhouettes morning sun set on fold
gone from milk tower brim conjunctivitis unfold
skins of the samite , flew modal
computer blood, fig garner feudal
machine bleeds her fingernails epochal

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.