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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.

 

Day one The Birthday (Story telling in verse Dramatic)

I smiled as the room cleared,
my birthday they wanted shared.
Yet I couldn’t stand the hypocrisy,
of a gathering with my family.

I thought thank God I am alone
There is only so much I can share
A family at my age why should I care
I was in my chair with only the phone.

Talk to me you shit, ring damn you
Shrill sounds rocked the room
Thought I was psychic at the noise.
It was one of the departed boys.

Wingéd (Dramatic Verse Workshop)

I came into this world unwinged,
my mother mortal (wretched thing).
My sire roamed the Heavens wide.
When I was born the Angel cried.

My dam had passed when I was born
hence, father offered naught but scorn.
No love he felt for human kind
save mother who left him behind.

The Angels know not where men go
when life is done- not high or low.
Most men feel sure they join the Host
of Seraph, Cherub, Holy Ghost.

an officer who was a D.S.P. saw an ewe espy
as a barbie break august carve
needed a neck brace to cover broken skull
fractured with salivating injurious eye swap
on an errand to buy bean cake "she said".
petals pried and fried spurious
to recruits for the public enemy section

Patches

It started when
the coat was almost new,
caught on rust-streaked spikes
of a school-ground prison…..
Patches!
Invisible at first,
an extra pocket
or designer label;
no one suspected
hidden damage.
But the scar remained,
quickly joined by
brothers, sisters,
uncles, cousins.
Then strangers
drove their opinions,
and other more physical
appendages,
through its crumpled fabric;
patches and coat
indistinguishable,
buttoned up tight
to keep everything out.

S A T C H E L L E B O O S T

fluer
wilted
this humidity
dross
bleeding colors
in its stain
like a scar
smeared
crash

lost love
lonesome
lead
break the
surface
of the dark
stealing deeds

your flare your dare
your winter white
flank
beneath
the flesh
where the bones
of sunsets
home are
temptress
shadows
curved and supine
where once
the bitter slake
of wine drizzled
and the mists
of perfumed
reigned

Little Yellow Leaf

I gazed in amazement, in this same day
As I witnessed something indescribable, by any poet
A single moment, so astonishing, so incredibly real
My heart, thumps furiously at my heaving chest
My heart, has misplaced its breath
Exactly like that feeling you get
When you place your face out the window of a moving vehicle
As you attempt to inhale

Choke

I gulp
I cry
With theses dreary, dreamy, morose eyes, I watched

Sin no sin

When you speak of love
as truth
in your blooming rosy youth
tis no sin
we all in love so begin

and
as you take shelter behind the moon
love will be born
beyond the clouds soon
till then you have not sinned
I stand guarantee for you

till you share her with your
kith and kin
then alone twill become
incestual sin

and
you shall never win

this alone attributes as sin
what ever you call sin
as sin

MOTIVE

I find myself back here again
where most people seldom go
the kind of place where raccoons den
and muscadine vines soar and grow.

For late August the breeze is fresh
a sneak preview of coming fall.
Sun's scattered by canopy's mesh
whose looming height makes me feel small.

On this rare day knees barely hurt
yet habit makes my stride still shamble
along this trail of leaf and dirt
on this private forest ramble.

POISON (Storytelling In Verse: Dramatic Verse)

I spit on the nerve of scums
who dare to dictate my life
when their hearts are lacking,
the strong will to strive.

Do they think I dance in the ring for fun
when I'm carving a future for my son?

I wish their prattle will cease
before they unleash the beast
and find my fist kissing their cheeks,
turning them into bleeding freaks.
,
I don't throw away a chance for victory.
I don't kiss anyone's ass.
I earned my dollars and pennies
I've shed my sweat
to be the best!

What Was Yet Is

What Was Yet Is

Shards of Thai-stick dream persuade
combat fear to swiftly fade
yet take their toll on flesh and soul
before receding into shade

pounding rains coerce delusion
nudging optical illusion
fractal fingers, sterile stingers
make the mind seek dark seclusion

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