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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.

 

The Gatekeepers

Would Athenians,
titans of intellect
know to curse
them?

Would Spartans
raise shields,
to huzzah their
passing?

Would soldiers
like those laconic
spirits stand by
to salute?

and If those gates
were cast open
Would they pass?

No. For Hades
gates are closed
to all and where
the dead reside
the dead defend.

SHARDINEZEN

crisp
terse from sure hands
the dealers work
sitting at the table
lady luck
winking full of cut angles
these purity diamonds

decks chance
the easy of running
numerical oddities
in a shuffle

calming like watching
rain fire past the empty
nights
the quiet corner of street lights

a thrill of wages
no risk
no gains
the great leap
win
lose
and often fold

no aim with a safety on

Canciones/Songs [Spanish-English]

CANCIONES

Cántame una canción
de amor
para que se me olvide
mí dolor
cuéntame de tiempos pasados
para que viva
mis sueños engañados

SONGS

Sing me a song of love
so I may forget
my pain
tell me again
of times gone by
so I may live my dreams
of lies

Tomorrow

Motes of pollen
through songs of dust
summer's laughter
blown as musk

blanket with lovers
hopes arrayed
as sunlight reigns
plans are made

Food with bees
blankets near trees
careless laughter
trickling in streams.

The day is still
wide skies azure
they eat their fill
their love is pure

A dream unfolds
too soon broken
by wasps of truth.
Three words spoken.

It's been lovely..

L A M E N T A R I

powder
between the sighs
thigh shift moonkissed eyes
gentle nocturne

sweetness over black winged death
therein falling breaths
from snow stained skin
a satin turn
from the landscaped burn
a ravaged dreamspeak
fresh with stars
this singing stream
crying your song

sleep far
within touching scars
innocuous stays
on your palms
like a breeze swift fast
a leaving
..

Everything is not sex

Everything is not sex

everything is not sex nor lust
in my life love comes first
on the sands we roll
I run about
you lie around

my clothes I remove
you let yours fly
then suddenly you come by
sit around my back
touching me every now and then

after all that nothing happens
a kiss is what I want
and in my arms you fall
love me that’s all
let sand flow out of your palms
and kiss me love
anywhere ,twill be like a smoothing balm

we make love
on the sands….

He Begs for Chains

Choice confuses him
he chases after his tail
too often to find dreamless
sleep.

During the longest
days, he see the
roads of his soul
diverging, no low ,
no high path only
choice, satanic
choice pulling,
tempting testing
him.

This freedom hurts.
It's like a bubo pulsing
under his arm,
feels like hot shot
under his red eyelids
it steals his thoughts
like gentle sunlight
destroying silk.

Fun

Fun

A Kookaburra whispered in my ear.
That he wanted to know of my life here
I told him to go jump in the pond
"But of him, I was very fond"

I raced to retrieve my pen and pad
Then threw it away which may sound sad
Talking about sad it is a thing of misery
As the nights grow longer it entraps me

They did this entrapping thing in another land
To catch diamond smugglers with red hands
This reminded me of a job I’d done
Painting a chair for my dear ole Mum

m e i n s t u r m

apex bend
the crush force
tearing
a cold temptation
rending

the little trees are
rushed with breath
their elders breaking
in the winds
and wires moaning
anguished cries
filled with passion
loves that died

and in the sanctuary
tiny shrine
the candles brilliant
flicker flare
the happy moments
there to stare
heartbeat song
in subdued glare

TWO POEMS ABOUT LOVE

LOVE

Love, ah love, we swoon,
it's aura reaching out from in the womb of life,
its cradle rocked in rhythms that beat in time,
it is our shrine, our Armageddon,
full of pain, the pain of being shunned,
or being stunned, no longer capable of reason.

Quite out of season roses bloom,
and on the loom of warm regard,
the warp and weft are twined,
locked in to something we can't totally understand,
ecstatic, full of dreams of unreal things
that mundane thoughts can never quite retain.

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