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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.

 

The world tomorrow

Give me a handkerchief,
nay a roll of toilet paper
to wipe my face
the pollution is disgrace
my lips only soil vapours embrace
give me some soft oily perfume to exhume
my nostrils burn
give me blocks of ice
as you save for mortuaries
my body burns with sunrays heat
my pockets have holes
and from soils I’m told
comes the filth of corruption
we all love it but random
the rich still soar high
the poorer view
a distant mirage

Oh life what are you!

A Vacant Stare That's Full

Again I sit waiting for you
Yet I know that you cannot come
We are worlds apart and will be
Though I feel your warmth within me

Days filled with thoughts of us
What a word to use two letters, us!
It is a world of longing love's way
It sustains me and fills my day

I may go through all hell
There you are, holding my soul
I know it is you in the warm shadows
Touching my love and making it true

To My Grandchild (From Afar)

You're here at last (or rather there) .

You didn't seem too happy on arrival:
I've seen photos of you howling.

By entering this world you overcame
your first big obstacle
on what will be a life-long course.

You'll have to learn so much -
to eat, sit, crawl, walk, talk...
Then your formal education will begin
with its endless-seeming complication
of what could be a simpler life.

The Deadly Tailor!

While crocheted in a gloomy mood
only death seemed to seam my breath.
It loomed those silky threads and sewed
coffins in white, to suit my death.

It unlaced my dreams forever
and buttoned tightly a dress 'nstead.
unseaming every brave endeavor,
to punch with gauds a heart, now dead.

About Fasting

A friend asked me about fasting,

thus this conversation is born. 

 

"Why leave your belly empty

when there's enough food

for you and me?

 

" A month of fasting

is nothing compared

to the years of starving,

felt by one caged

in poverty."

 

"Where lies the need

to feel other's sufferings?

Surely that's madness indeed."

 

"It is not insane

to embrace compassion,

with nothing lost, much to gain.

\\\\FUCKDose\\\

the cardboard is pulling apart
mint chocolate running down
a tanned leg
onto the clever pumps
and second week pink
pearl paint..

the kids are shrieking in
the complex
bashing a giant plastic
ball made in China
the mother screams
"car!" and like chickens
beneath the soaring
aviary predator
rush to her plump
side

worrisome

worrisome

every first is worrisome
may be marriage
or birth of a son
or the fist one to have become
a parent under the sun

the first one to have a grand child
so mild
maybe a grand son or grand daughter
it should not really matter
but first worry of the parent is natural
as the child is the miracle
the first one ever
for you me or anyone
worrisome
on this occasion
we shan't add death
its bad
a human ransom

Worry

I'm seriously worried now.

My daughter's having a baby
but I'm far from the hospital
and the hours are dragging by
and there's no news.

What if she has died,
but no one wants to tell me
in case I go overboard?
What if the baby has died?
What if the baby has a serious problem,
mental or physical,
meaning a life of care and worry for my daughter?
Why doesn't someone keep me informed?

I'm going to phone my wife.

I've called her.

a thought in flight

a thought in flight pauses
on its panting path
to touch a pensive mind
the rushing notion
defies the mocking ripples
of many words' estuary
cascades vehemently along
till it ponds in solitude

lost in the obscurity
of a verbal world
the thought slowly turns
into a crafty alphabet

Right Now

Right now my daughter's in pain.
She's having a baby,
and though I know
that doctors and nurses and midwives
have things pretty much under control,
I can't help praying to a God
I've never really believed in much,
just in case he (or she) is really up there.

Let's face it, there's always a risk,
and I ponder on the bravery of mothers.
Perhaps they're instinctively strong,
or feel some kind of duty,
but I salute them all.

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