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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.

 

A Sad Land (The Complete Poem WS)

It's been quite long since pains eclipsed my joys
and let the mournings cloak my days and nights,
my dreams became nightmares of girls and boys
whose sinless childhood fed the endless plights.

Now trees are shedding tears-no leaves to shed,
no birds to sing, or whispering wind to hear
and sadness lives and veils the wild instead
as rainbows fade where clouds there hide in fear.

An Epode of Sorts (Complete Poem Workshop)

Through timelines immemorial
mankind has written poems,
with wordsmith nigh celestial
he filled nigh endless tomes.

Who wrote the first to poesy shape?
When did he recognize
the panacea’s posed escape
from all he did despise?

His epode came before his prose.
He beat the drums aloud.
Heartfelt the elegist knew throes
of joy and pain enshroud.

‘Longside the painter in the cave
the poet sang his song.
He sang of gods and heroes brave
and what he thought was wrong.

it will always be you

I ache to be held in your arms
and have you nuzzle my hair
I can still smell cool water
on my sheets

your face
has become a mask
where once
I could read you
with a look,
I am now clueless

our house is tumbling down
lumber passes your head
without a single glance

your eyes are veiled
their darkness
impenetrable,
I search for a glimmer
of hope, finding none

Advisor (poem pre book write, - second main Edit)

I had taken out a lot of the capital letters that started each line, now this one is where I have started to edit to the comments received

I sat at my lonely station,
the library a quiet meditation.
Oh how I yearned to shout,
telling the world what life was about
.
Day on day just passed away
my mind drifted it wouldn’t stay
to this silence I wasn't a slave
out it would go wave on wave

te extraño

a harsher translation.
not I miss you,
but you are missing from me
as in a pair of lips have haunted me since the theater
fingertips trailed from my knee to my ribs
warm breath creeping from just below my ear
to the base of my spine
in public I don't think I have ever been so willing
the temperature rose but nothing happened.
and yet I can't say I would have been above it.

Flame

The flame upon a candle sits,
its light against the darkness pits.
Its strength the slightest breeze will tax,
and press it low to melted wax.

Persistent flicker 'til the dawn,
when wax is spent and flame is gone.
In this nocturnal vigil kept,
a thousand fears from night are swept.

So are lives like candles lit,
each pushing back the dark a bit.
And when the day arrives at last,
the flame to glowing wick is passed.

The old violin

''As if she's the only one
I'm the only one to stare.''-she whispers

Ask her and she's about to answer
she likes that, simple conversation
in a cafe ''Silhouette'', the title behind
her back in colorful electricity light

This old violin follows her singing
she finishes the first and the violin
goes on only for a bit more, after,
she's humming her dear melody

LEFT OVERS

LEFT OVERS

Cups, saucers, plates
old and new
forks, knives and spoons
worn and used
pictures of family and friends
objects of art and paintings
reflections of my senses
where do they go when
all things end.
Will they find a place
in someone else's space
or will they be flea market fare.
They were all a part of me
Will anyone see
I am in everything I touched
chose, used, loved.
Who will know and care,

Inspiration.......(edit ....thanks all)

Inspiration,
is the spring board of poetry
I learned it
after decades of digging
in the temples
where poetic Lords reside
the ones like you
happy for you
and
of course
my dear
I thank you

Stan and I once wrote
about our many dawns
we passed together
in the age -less -ness of time,
eternity and poetry

My mind now saturates*
poetically
it's been eons since

War Torn

(Re-submission, was posted just around the time of Neopoet's website crash)

Feeding her baby
she kisses her good night
thanking the Lord for his blessings
then watches the Moon
from her cold bed
longing for the kisses of her Love

Somewhere in those stars
her knight lies prone
shorn of their love in its bud
bathing her in warmth
with his cascading light
playing on her probing fingers

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