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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

Nepoet Weekly 09/15/24 to 09/21/24 Winner!

                                                                                      This Week’s winner is Jokerface82

 

Grandiose Majestic Mountain

There stood a majestic
Craggy face with razor blade
Edges of a monstrous
time honoured mountain

Turning its rocky nose up
at anything below him, robust
Jagged and risky, high stabbing
armour with White shark tip
Cut throated fins.

Bald rugged with a silent manner
cold stone as white as marshmallow
steep and strong, bold and old
broad frosted shoulders

With powdered freckles and a storm grey
complexion it wore a white necklace
and a frosted crown, made
by heaven.

 

                                              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.

 

Poets please

Poets please
In my experience of poetry...
across the Internet...
I find a poem just 15 to 20 lines
is read most...
also with a sexy connotation mostly...

else poetry is en route
to the tunnel of time...
where no lights shine...
yes now, no more ...

poetry is becoming obscure...
that is very much sure
poets ought to endure...

Detached

There came a knock.

Time had come to call
upon my friend,

not me. Almost every
thing was taken
except for a box
packed and left

empty

of paper and pictures
with little meaning
when the people in
them no longer
have
memories.

I pulled the linens

from the bed,
pissed and soiled
like a diaper wrapped
around a bottom

too new to care
for itself.

I flipped the
mattress over and
fell asleep,
tracing words that
leapt with rage

A Poet At Work 2

Like a nimble footed ballerina
the ink flows in a rhythm
choreographing a ballet
of a poetic song

Her steps create
visions of a Swan
flirting with her mate
with suave motions
while her heart and soul connects
to the ethereal melody
creating an extravaganza
of an eclectic sequence

A misstep is the essence
of her mortal charm
not dithering her form and figure
in an enthralling ballet

"Was it that bad?" They Ask of Me

And as the last threads of the day
stream from my grasping hands and fray
across an eve of hopeless sighs
that withers and then crudely dies;
I'm filled with quiet resentment
that precursors my soft descent
into a worthless rage and then
I breathe my madness once again.

d e c a m e r o n * r o o m s

tiger shade
whorls jade
gaunt jaundice

rust cigarette stains
in a pail

an empty mop
oiled walls
glistening
pink brandy

city breathes
through the
storm
color candy

long limbed
the distant
stations
hiss

the baleful
conditions
untested

love b lighted
and like a parade
silenced
a shadow
moves

sweet
as carrion

the cough
wracked drum
beat
the stillness
in the room

Jane

If we could,
let us dance this once
like graceful birds,
or galaxies entwined
in a grand enactment,
like bees over swollen flowers
just you and I, a pair

before the night goes out
and day discovers that
I am just a fascination
and your body is a song.

Ponderable

Why is an orange, orange
and an apple red?
Is it the color of the skin
or a religious emblem?

Is it just an illusion
which lures us,
only to lose the essence
in our greed?

Is it the color we bite,
while spitting out the seeds?
The bile doesn't care,
if it's colored or white.
Does it?

It's all shit in the end,
no matter the color or shade,
apples or oranges,
carrots or beetroots,
beans or nuts,
all end up
in solid, liquid and gaseous state.

Twilight at dawn

Tonight let my mind free
to wander beyond eternity
and collect the sweet nectar
from bees aliens maybe
beyond the distant dusking horizon
the twilight of my life
be the birth
of another awesome morn
across the wild oceans
where man and humanity seek to meet
as the sunrise at dawn tweets
the arrival of a newer born
ere the twilight is once again torn
so let me be the for binger of peace
for all humanity
and trace my footsteps upon times domain
to show light to handle
a living darkness

Silver Beast

Silver Beast

I ride the wind
on my silver beast,
riding high on a paved retreat.

They say I’m not worthy
of such a treat
but I smile and wink
as I kick the beast.

The beast and I
have rode long and hard.
We know we are worthy
as we fly on by.

We fly so high
we can look down and see
those who smirked
were wanna-be’s.

A simple grin
and a wave goodbye
off again and away I fly.

By: Sharon Jones

Alone to Think

Alone to Think

I shall have to walk in glades of green

Or walk into my dark room there unseen

How could I ask which one to choose?

The greens have it I cannot lose.
.

The softness under foot, peaceful touches

Where walking is a silent treasure to me.

The birds sing forth, though there’s only three

Say what you want from little ole me.
.

I am here in this my sanctuary

Where my mind is brushed with perfumes

A felt tipped leaf touches my soul

As deeper in the forest I go
.

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