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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.

 

Priceless

How pathetic it is
when a man sees his value in currency
though he is born priceless!

Jonny’s Marching Home

When Jonny comes marching home again,
hurrah, hurrah.
When Jonny comes marching home again,
hurrah, hurrah.
They all will cheer and they all will shout,
the ladies they will all turn out
and we’ll all feel gay when Jonny comes marching home.

You haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg,
a-roo, a-roo.
You haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg,
a-roo, a-roo.
You haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg,
they sent you home with a wooden peg
and we’ll all feel gay when Jonny comes marching home.

Take The Trip?

My train has already left the station, but
for some strange reason I’m still standing on the platform waiting.
I don’t know if I can handle another journey or
at least the station stops in between.

You say the scenery along the way will be worth the trip.
But can I cope with those long dark tunnels?
Or do I even want to.
And I’d hate to start the journey just to get my
ticket punched half way through.

pod room

wan err one air, won ere
weir wear ware circus citrus cirrus
night of Norse moon sea horse

frequency keep less alert
deciduous pluck
plough implore prow
filthy barn-shed
in blink bleak beak
leak lick link foreskin pirates
cross-bone

my lip covers your eye, earth
partial patents patient
pod room
pogrom statuesque stentorian
slip lip sleep leap
canoes the pointed toe
slander toupee tendon
now the light is all taken,
by darkness

the end

The angels in my night
have stilled their dance,
with the thought of you
and her, I lay on my lance

the eventide has lost
its sparkle and shine,
I sit in the darkness
and my soul does pine

the flowers are things
just growing in the ground,
their beauty is lost
it’s become quite profound

losing touch with the world
I sit on a highway of hell,
and death for me now
would not be a hard sell

Seasonal weather

THE WEATHER THAT PUT THE “SEAS” INTO “SEASONAL”

The year has turned and once again
Our weather changes – Wind and Rain!
But wait, it hasn’t changed at all ,
A blink of sunshine, then a squall!
And just when we can take no more,
The rain-dance kelpies splash ; ENCORE!

This island’s weather gets me down.
Makes dismal, dreary, winter towns
The soil is sodden, nothing grows,
Apart from mould on dampish clothes.
TV shows farms which once were nice
But useless now except for rice.

Friend I Say

Friend I Say

Seeing a space inside my head,
from corners four to centre stage.
Inside that man I see is honest bred,
perhaps he knows the weight of age.

To stand outside this room his house,
then comment upon his stance or gait.
Gives same the right of Rat to grouse,
lest we send this man to glibly state.

He mustn’t dance on cathedral floor,
natural the steps that make his choice.
To make good his sense he will ignore,
those who speak of kings in godly voice.

Server Error help

Damn it there was a glitch the server was down
Out of my room each day with a savage frown
Will normality ever be returned?
Do I have to search for a new place?

There my words to churn
Or will it be joy of joys that sets me free
When the Neopoet site returns to me
I checked in the evening gone
There it was singing my song

Of friends from across the world
Poetry and words still spilled
I slept well last night no more fright
That the day will wake to nothing.

Dinner Time

She feeds those chickens everyday
And the rooster struts and crows
As the steam rolls from the pot
Plucking feathers for dinner she knows

Your wife sho taste good to me
Mister rooster chest puffs up
Sitting at the dinner table smiling
She fills up her drinking cup

Yall chillen leave those chicks lone
They might think their meal is a little pet
She keeps them away from the chickens
She is planning on wringing their neck

BESIDE YOUR LIMBS

As the moments rustle on
a leaf to one's footsteps marking time
the crumpled brown and red - how beautiful dead things are!

As conversations become breaths in between sentences
pauses developping into rightful silences
where one can close their eyes
letting birdsongs and windscapes
chatter for us.

You whisper silk words that my hands weave into a scarf
and slowly
I wrap it around my head...

Then it falls over my eyes!
I am a stumbling, drunken fool around you.

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