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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.

 

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE CREATOR

Thoughts
swarm my mind
like bees do
around a honeycomb

I am
My memories
My desires
My prejudices
And fears

I express myself
In a chemical stream
Of nervous energy

But,
What about the thinker
Where is he

Can I find him beneath
The seismic shifts
of an overactive consciousness
Does he envelope the activity
or
is he subservient to it
This enigma
I have been grappling with
My entire life

Renga 8 "A Song Of Passion"

We must learn to sing
teach us of your ways of love
show me the rapture

see how the passion rises
shield me not from true loving

let us dance with joy
as we celebrate this life
painted with laughter

embrace innocence again
release the heart from malice

wide eyed innocence
blissful days of childishness
boys run after girls

embrace the cheerful laughter
remember days of your youth

in each beat of heart
listen to the melody
in high and low notes

Nothing is forever ....as you already know

That you know nothing
is forever
nothing much
about us is known

this universe is a vast home
mundane for those who so want to feel
for those who follow
only there is no reprieve

I gently seek indulgence
of now
and
here

What is beyond, beyond
I don't know
nor,
do I fear

Know me just as a passer by
you will
as much as I will
all shall pass by

Wildfire

What are you looking for?
What did you see?
Going in or out?
What’ll it be?

Now you got me thinking.
Looking both ways in the mirror,
Just to see what’s behind of me.

And I hope you catch your dreams,
Go far like a wildfire,

Hope you found a sucker in me,

Go on
Just,
Not with me.

INTENSE IMAGINATION

Pallid the sky 
bleached by summers sun 
ghost blue behind the standing trees
an audience to the heavens
that empty place 
we fill with our illusory ideas 
perfection in the geometry
of our joys and fears
make tangible our thoughts 
on strings of harps 
and angels wings

so many things we bring to life 
with our intense imagination 
creating peace 
disturbing peace 
no peace finding

NOTHING TO SEE

Another evening on the deck
watching shadows grow in length.
Nothing to see this summer eve
as heat of day loses its strength.

Everything is green on green
on all thirteen types of tree
which adorn my big back yard.
A wasp flies by ignoring me.

Can't see the pond this time of year,
too many leaves block off the view
but a blue crane rises up from it
and heads toward roost as they all do.

Teaching a new born

Teaching a new born
Why not say

O child be yourself
Experience and learn.... (From our follies do stay away...).
the midnight oil do burn
and experience and learn...
what holds in the folds of eternity...
tis alone a reality-----
we only shall pass our silliness....

Oh, child! believe in yourself...

.we should not convey our thoughts...
as per our times----

take your own steps... one at a time
and the truths of all existence do combine

I Dream Of Winter

I dream of winter,
not the one in cruel hearts
but one born with beauty
and the sea of white snow,
painted over the landscape
where I could lay
down and cast
in a snow angel's shape,
fulfilling my childish yearning.
I dream of snowball fights
with young children
laughing, playing
or pretending to rescue
a damsel from the Ice Queen

Untitled

smiling rays,
i drop a cliff note on
perspective and changing
frames hanging
pieces by the
letter falling
closer in the
midst of post-
daylight frequencies
onlooking longer
at the clamoring
daydreams soft
spoken screeches
and bellowing
whispers in pre-
starlit afterthoughts
wild and transparent
deciding days of
ornamental life
trying for
places stuck in
waysides bending
though cul-de-sac
entryways ending in
authentic life

Convection

Heat rising in her cheeks
beneath dewy tears.
The shattered innocence of
a murdered dove.
A child playing the role of an adult.
The young feast upon the mother.
Too soon to start.
Too late to stop.
The cloth is cleansed
yet the stain remains.

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