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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.

 

Entity

Good deeds like salt grains
Unseen, thankless, forgotten
pre or postmortem

The Choice is Ours

The hell and heaven aren't the same,
one's cool, the other burns in shame,
the heaven's faces grin with smiles,
while hell's lost souls are strewn in piles.

The choice is ours which end to choose;
we either win or else we lose,
the roads we took have always led
which eternal lives we loved to tread.

Shadow Tracks

I’m like a shadow,
the demon, hated,
hiding in the city, stooped.
A hunchback ill-fated.

If I go outside
I hide in the cracks.
Colourless and camouflaged
within the crevice blacks.

If I am exposed
by a light cascade
I shrink back in horror
and step back in the shade.

Hence I stay indoors
shut myself away,
so all I'll ever be
is different shades of grey.

. . . . e.....s.....t.....e.....r.....n.....a......

estuary synchro
droplet drizzle
svelte line abbrev
sweet

thumbtack a pash
slide the tumblers
in harried haste
unbuttoning the evening
atrophy
hovering over
and filled with
its lurid paste urge
tinged in its passing
this watered light licking
raindrops

fan whirs
humming electrical
satisfaction
this heat rancid
the balcony awash in
ice and leavings
from a yesteryear
wayward storm

THE PRETENDER -- Italian version added

THE PRETENDER

He thrust his fist
to the heavens
and cursed the gods
in defiance
to claim his divine right
and alliance
with Dark Ones
who judge and condemn all Creativity
with mellifluous drippings
of false eloquence,

The Muses all
covered their faces
veils mourning black
and took to hidden places
for fear of an attack
and that one of his arrows
dipped in venomous bile
would find its mark
in their own heart

IL PRETENDENTE

Me in Me

The Me in Me,
Stares at Me
Smirking at the Sins
I'd trashed

With an impish smile
I chuckle at him
"thanks for showing
I'm human"

WHERE DOES REALITY COME FROM

"Where does reality come from,"
the title of a book of philosophy by Arne Naess.

Reality,
is it,
was it ever,
can it be,
or is it illusion,
who really knows what it is,
and why is it that we ask?

We question
the existence of existence,
so to speak,
we speak it,
it is when we speak
we hear it's voice,
it's creed.

We need to know,
but why?

What is there we can do with it?
Is there anything we can do with it?
No.

Sadness

I'm between red nebula somewhere in space
and myriad red rain drops here

After I close my eyes I see the same
it's a huge planet without a mask

Touching a ghost with my ghostly hand
one step back, it's fluttering in the distance

Between death and noble gases
where might be nothing

A bursting in antimatter cloud
where truly might be nothing

While their atoms are changing structure
I think the sound is my step's sound

December Moths

I dipped my hand
in a cold stream of lamplight
my hand came out
dripping with tiny wings

I held a flock of new friends
spotted brown and gray

Bits of Yesterday

I was told there was a time
when friendships
mended broken things,

so what truth is there
in all these unexpected conclusions?

You might be the most
adequately fashioned,
but no ticking clock ever held the
mastery of time;

what are we today,
if not fragments of all
we ever were.

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