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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.

 

Xmas 1973

He's fallen for it again,
after swearing by God's book,
his rogue mouth would halt
it's yearly stuff-athon.

Yet he's once more replete,
no, bursting forth, stuffed like
a Christmas bird; crackling,
cherries, berries,coat his lips,
cheeses of all description on
his plate and his tiny mouth
is doing its best to devour
it all.

Create poem

poem body
gleaning and dusted
cretin finish
from a luster proletariat bohemian

rolls well
greased with vodka
and nicotine
cafienne and tragic love

but ive given up the ghosts
and lived in the ruins
leaning on the doorframe
with a sardonic sanctimonious
grin

my Olivetti in the corner
onionskin like parchment
and a fresh roll of ink ribbon
from staples

my new celly from the step
kid

Breath

Silence whispers
i can not understand

the bare tree
is significant

it knows.

Married to Loss

I was balanced
between grief and rage
anger tore at me
sadness overwhelmed

I begged god for release
praying for forgiveness
absence haunted and yes
it was all about me me me

why me? but then why not
gazing further I saw the end
nudging at minutes
moving hours

I reconciled with death
fighting and hiding
sparring and parrying
my pain was married

it’s about living and knowing
to have the grace to concede
it was never about winning
but the struggle to survive

I Cry

I Cry

What’s that you say I cannot write?
What the hell, you are talking shite
I have joined up words from the age of four
I still have love letters from her next door

Did you think she wouldn't write to me?
If I was illiterate don’t you see
She was lovely with golden curls
Much better than all the other girls

Oh! It’s my poetry you cannot stand
Oh! Well, why don’t you give me a hand
There are people in the world
Also many throughout this land

SO WHAT

Now it's past history
the mystery 
of what its all about, 
was it about,
were we about,
and why we are about it,
and while we're about it
I shall say it out loud: 

Christmas has passed us by,
by the by,
and here we still are,
by the way,
yes we are.

There's always a sigh 
after celebrations, 
a kind of eerie silence, 
not necessarily beautiful, 
just fact. 

The Dance of the Narcissus

The thought of too much sun
is enough to dry my inelegant
years down to a red soil.
For in that heated world where
you fidget within your own
heart's laager, listening to the lonely
squatting syllables of a war dance,
there is no seasoning to the
feast in your mind's migrations.

The necessary travel that you undertake
as a benevolent foreigner to serve the
benighted "us" is a pilgrimage around
your own small camp fire.

Today

What do you want of me?
I have years to pull on
Not for all my life,
did I sit in comfort without strife
I have felt the hunger
Hunger for food
For many other things
That at the time things were severe
Yet here I am after many years

Twisted senses

Her voice was a honeysuckle wind.

I remember the immediate addiction,
knowing how short our time might be,
but when we woke, we were old,
she said "Good morning"
and I felt the fresh smell of spring.

crystal

Pen and paper elude me tonight,
I sit in front of a thousand
lights in the night sky,
send a wish to the sandman
banish her demons and sleep tight.

The torn and tossed paper heart,
like you I find a smile upon a gaze.
Like you in that moment the world falls away
and again sandman I scream your name,
upon your journeys... do not see us apart

Forever and a day
the fighting end.
it is here the demons tourment
seeking perfect words,
I will walk away

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