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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.

 

stand up poet

They saw me as cold silver,
not hot enough to heat
then in the cauldron of flames,
hotter than sun did they heat
and out of minced meat
they created a genius

daube

turmoil
moist the shaking
bold the line
bite the lip

a fat fusilade of falling
snow
thick as ash
falls
upon the lashes
the dark gloss locks
the town face blank
in shinning windows
an empty clock

merriment
turns the key
and winds the
coil bound
release
the trigger
a whirl
in the winded swirl
the pathway
they follow down
through the
pressure
like precious scars
like the world hidden
from the eyes of
the stars

A CANCER PATIENTS LAST WISH!

We all have to pass
one day some day
through that corridor they say
tis only a few moments in times away
some day one day..

Thanks for your good wishes
for the passing soul
as she traverses the universe...
and
now only a lasting memory does stay

.A CANCER PATIENTS LAST WISH!

I dream for those who are on cancer beds
struggling for a wet cloth
to moisten their dehydrated tongues
and dried up palette

"Study In Pink WS" Urilla leaves London.

Epilogue Number Four

This has been a trying time
many heads without bodies in the city
and horrid rumors of Mog intertwine
Macwell's hotel up in flames
murdered by Creel lacking pity.

Creel's murder trial is underway
in court I’ve testified under oath
evidence and facts on display
in an affidavit I wrote.

Off on an adventurous trip to America
to write a memoir this horror—murder case
had enough of this town and its headless murders
Sure glad mog scare was just a hoax to save face

A S H E Z

wake in the drab
the heartdrub deep
and finger through the ashes
coating the long hair
uncombed
next the face
the shirt

grieving

recieving

when you ever thought it was enough

the merrirment
runs off
hang about the old grounds
a ghost
singing the songs
while the bridges burn
when will anyone learn
or does it matter

will their wings carry
them aloft
their becon halos
showing them the way

Thoughts From Lancelot du Lac

"I'm supposed to be the FIRST knight!
I want to sit by Guinevere!
What does it matter that Arthur isn't here?
It's a bit inconvenient
to bed my Queen
and Elaine
and...oh I forget...

I'm supposed to be brave
and handy with a sword
crafted muscles hewn
like welsh granite saved

I wasn't considered
worthy of attention by Monmouth
Gwain got all the plaudits first
mere crumbs, perhaps a footnote
in passing legends thirst
for Gothic revival

Doubts and Assurances

Ive been scared to think as of late
Dream of things I love and want
It seems so much more to contemplate
Impossible to formulate

I have you now
Were together
Yet there's questions on my mind
The biggest one will you stay forever?

But perhaps not the biggest
Its a gateway question
Too afraid to pull the trigger..
Would you stand on an alter at our precession?

If I gave you me body and soul
Pay this hefty toll
I'll be right here thick and thin
Follow you straight to hell then back again

The Satan's Defeat

Once again, a Son of Man fled in terror, proving to me they are pathetic
everytime i showed my form, their courage vanished with the wind
is this the descendant of Adam whom my ancestors have been ordered to revere?
one whose heart is easily misled and troubled by a nudge of fear?

Where is the proof that they are better than the Devil?! Where?!!
So many I have tested and yet none proved the proclaimed truth
once I instigate the growth of doubt, the faith in their hearts falter
making me proud to be a djinn, a superior race born of fire

The "El"

THE “EL”[a memory]

Clickety-clack
trains on the track
flying high to the city
and back
sparks falling from the sky
on the street below
where phantom trolleys go
on rails left behind.

Clickety-clack
sardines in a row
swaying to and fro
white knuckle holds
on worn leather straps
holding on to mamma
for dear life
old men smoking cigars
and pipes
Christmas time
just mamma and I
on the El we fly....

P.L.F.

weary worn
the R&R is tearing at our souls
like the slash of the tough grass
Not enough bourbon on the nights
crawl....The MP's drawl..

The once sweet rasp of my Zippo
from a girl..is like a rash in the ear
bitter-sweet sucked in on a Pall
Mall...my left hand on the webbing
sling atop the metal and plastic
Mattel

We know what to do
the names missing
the new replaced
like an old chain with
new links

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