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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.

 

Beat Girl

So I’m sitting there
Being me,
And she’s giving me this look,
With her cold eyes,
And I bet she’s thinking
Look at this Motherfucker.
Acting all mad and thinking in his weird ways,
Thinking he’s beat.
As if he knows anything about that,
Or even if it means anything.
He’s lost in his own damn thoughts
And it’s shit.

cloud break

.

Mrs Duncan sits in her wheelchair
letting family and friends
press food into her hands,
and tissues to her dry eyes

a single framed photo
graces the polished sideboard.
his long, gentle face, surrounded
by cards and flowers,
smiles out at those gathered there

Mrs Duncan seems indifferent

their youngest daughter, a black beetle,
scurries between kitchen and lounge room
with plate after plate after plate
of food

activity keeps her from screaming

CATCH THE GOLDEN RING edit

CATCH THE GOLDEN RING

In a circle bound
like a merry-go-round
beginnings seek their end
never knowing when,
I catch the moments
and hold them fast
but soon the present
becomes the past
and the future comes
all too soon.

The tongue has no understanding

The tongue of those who can't relate to struggles of the sickly,
Those who don't know what it's like to suffer in silence
From an auto immune disease (multiple sclerosis)
Keeps me depressed and oppressed.

Glaucoma has taken my sight rendered my driving useless
The dimness in my right eye has me wondering
If my left eye will follow.

Figures walking by with blurred faces
Eyes are no more like empty sockets
Shadows in my peripheral.

A Poem for A Friend I Hurt (Unintentionally)

They say alcohol makes all things better,
I hope this is true; as I drown my sorrow in a bottle of liquor,
Drink till I black out; and shut my mind,
But the more I try to shut out;
Thoughts of you,
The more I see images of you,
Your beautiful face and divine smile,
Can a visage so pretty camoflage such bile?
My heart skips beats,
Every time I see you,
Till I fear I would die of a heart attack,
Let me apologise if you think I hurt you,
(I'd apologise even if I didn't hurt you),

My Memories Birthday- (70 years on)

6th June 1944

I was only two and a bit,
but I remember you.
In that you flew over little me,
I saw the sky filled with planes.

The ones towed behind,
never to return again.
As the soldiers that they held,
to save us, not themselves.

I cry for you even now.
They have told me all my life,
that you gave yours.
Without thought so freely.

My memory could not see,
the pain in body and mind.
Where death stalked you,
to save those left behind

Betrayed

Whispers in the dark leaking from the window
revealed treachery of which I didn't know
I kicked open the door and my heart bled,
seeing two bodies entangled on the bed

My lover's face now masked by fear
while an old friend cowered in the corner
How long have I been a fool, I wonder
but the answer doesn't really matter

CRAP

By Ian Thomson

The economic situation in the European nations
Is the reason why our savings disappear
For the banks gave all our money
To their pals, who think it’s funny,
To get free loans for champagne and high-strength beer

This social deprivation leads to food banks, near starvation
But our feathered friends seem happy with their lot
For although we’re nearly skint,
Those seabirds seem to have a mint,
Put deposits on new cars they haven’t bought.

symbiotic for pace

momentous seclusion in bracelets
salted silt bristling bed
twin dis-part in aeons
and a doe on the brink skein
brown backed a sand pyramid
tri rising the collar baked
well far for the desert scene
in the forests with a rush
ribbon of a gazelle and her elongation
freedom frisk for a patrol pedestrian
be this before Venus vanilla twilight

p r i t t i e

the murk drools past
the soft touch
holding face in all the shine
each crafted pleasant
petal up to the sun\

prittie puts it on\

complex as a knot of twine
and the ball hits the
blacktop

and the skies eyes
are as blue as mine
they can see
forever

and ever...

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