Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

REFLECTIVE PLANES

Are we between two facing mirrors
looking left then looking right
at infinite decreasing images
formed by bounced reflected light?

But we can only look one way
as we wave and watch reflections mimic
having no way to be sure
if other ones show the same gimmick

And even in the one direction
the processions cannot all be seen
we can't truly see them all at once
are all those eyes which I see green?

My Love to Sir!

The fact that
the poetic acumen
I have or had,
has been milked
by none less than Jess....
I must confess

else I would have
gone away
In the midst of snowy forests to stay
and
from such lovely poets
kept away.

But the very fact
you read me
kick me
and
love me

''I love it too ''

Except , when you abuse
then alone I accuse
that's not my muse

The Final Hunt

The Final Hunt

Elemental elderberry drooping from its vine
thrives along a rock wall near the wood
habitat for fat, old turkeys, deer and porcupine
and sundry birds who think it very good

here I sit with trusty weapon nestled in my lap
watching every rustle of the trees
hoping that the autumn sunshine won’t bring on a nap
or that I do not cough or start to sneeze

M*AN*T*I*L

serenade
an ocean of depth
a cold so high
the curve is seen
the stark blue cleft
twixt heaven and here

the tiny crystalline
fortunes fall
weaving minuet
forecast in this silent
hall

blaze night lamps
shine your quiet gaze
your gauzy hot chimney
vents

slumber in quilts
fortunate dreams
stirring rem waltzes
quartet conversation

beneath your harsh
starry gaze
we plan
visions
and quests
wrapped in our
skins of selves
come daybreak

A Drug Poem

Alcohol removes inhibitions
makes one a fool
and that's great.

Cocaine she don't lie,
you can control the world.

Heroin ends all pain
and makes all things possible

Ecstasy is chemical love,
all night
dancing and fucking

Reality is for people who can't handle drugs.

Did I forget hallucinogens?
No.
They are for the truly brave or stupid.

The Watcher

Are you my guardian angel,
looking over my shoulder
every now and then,
reading,
watching,
paying close attention,
all in silence?

Are you the wind that blows
round me when I cry,
are those your fingers
rubbing on my skin,
and is that whistling sound
your breathing?

Are you just my frantic mind;
the usual visions
of solitude; ghosts
that come to lie by me
at night, never speaking,
only staring?

Are you reading
as I write?

Fool's Paradise

I am not a poet
just fool around with bits
from my Do-it-Yourself kit
going hammer and tongs
in a fit of fantasy
driving me nuts
till a clap of thunder
bolts through the labyrinths
of grey folds and glitches
screwing up
what I'd thought to be a creation
now clouded in the smoke of absurdity
till I rise from the ashes
like Sphinx
back to my muse
in fool's paradise

What of a dream

Sometimes a dream makes one reflect
the inner conscience one does suspect,
I wonder what dreams want to convey,
we dream in our own way

there is no coherence
nor a foreplay,
dreams only us sway,
if such be the manner of dreams,
why suddenly we awake to scream,

in the darker alleys and crevices of mind
we leave all memories far behind
then as we awake and ponder
what dream was conveying we wonder

Were they lies

That stress felt, as I try to stop,
why is there no end that helps me.
I do not believe in many things,
have I not paid my dues to all?

Does everyone feel this torment,
as they sink into oblivions grip.
I was promised so much by you all
I fear the night of glazed eyes.

You say there is something there,
now you have my attention
Shall I wait until that final gasp,
there in the space after, what if.

Tras-os-montes revision

Each language comes with set of "sensibilites"foreign to many other cultures,and largely not understood. I wrote the following "poem"in continental Portuguese, the language of the FADO [see below]. I found myself going in a direction I didn't intend.

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.