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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.

 

HUMAN SPIRIT

Painful in heart
so much to say,
yet when it snows
in depth,
defy is all that knows.

Blood will bleed,
tears it shall feed.
Run we run,
so simple yet
in truth all we have
is our fears.

Human spirit we try
cold mornings we fail.
It is here our soul bleeds.
It is here an old man feels the wind.
It is here the world feeds.

Bit by bit with passion

You first just cup my face
then draw me closer
as my heart beat does increase,
you wipe off my tears
and kiss
we hug more with grater force
as you then pull me closer
you press me all over
you want us to strip
bit by bit

we both do
our bodies’ burn within
you leave no distance
bit by bit
we strip

there is no breeze
the car does freeze
as you rip
and witnesses us drip
we hug more
ere the car moves along
the forest alone knows
we just made love together

naturally

underneath the layers
of malice
there grows a palid
umhumbled deprived
gullish
to one day it will vanish
without you and perish
yourself
amazes at the past
and how things gast
undo fast
nice feelings blast
pass bad and vast
naturally they last

THUMBS UP

THUMBS UP

Does anyone here own a set of golf clubs?
And does your wife nag if you use them?
(Some wives are quite happy to use local pubs
To avoid the golf club’s sad amusements)

But men bred in Fife are a different class.
For golf is their only addiction.
And though they may not be averse to a glass
To accuse them of more would be fiction

This story begins on the Leven golf course,
On the tee at the eighth, a par 5.
My good friend, Wee Ginger, was bad, getting worse,
Had developed a hook with each drive.

C O N T A G I O N

surety praises
a false dawn blossoming
like glittering eyes
a snarl on whitened teeth
drawn behind damp lips
suffused with pious and pity

deep within
a heart wrung
jittered
in the ruin of taut
folds a cleft forfeit
trickles hot sequence

each restless motion
over waves like water
the liquid want
like a dark rush

an elongated spinal arch
like a bow stretched
for her archer
the fingers tossing
through a mane of tease

Sexy lies the dawn...

Sexy lies the dawn
as It holds
my longing eyes,
surely but slowly
you alone seem to fill the gap
between me and the rising sun

you burn me more
than would the fireball
that too
from a far off distance
as I feel your nearness and warmth
much more

our bodies collide and graze
sparks emblaze
as the fire works
put down the sun
this dawn becomes the loveliest morn

Vacant Spaces

I sit here listening with my eyes.
Why I ask myself, do I watch for you.
How did I reach this point of doing?
I cannot shout at you to make you hear

You have become a number to me
I have lost faith with this system
Where are you that you don’t look for me?
I am a tap of the keys from your eyes

Damn this vacant place with no feelings
Yet you want me to know you are there
Speak to me then with gentle touches,
My eyes will stir, my soul will seek for you

Folding Clothes.

Soon she will fold him
like one of his shirts on
the ironing board, like
one of his cheap cotton
underpants in the draw.

Soon she will whiten
his face, wipe all the
stains, all the little
dribbles of outrage
from his mouth clean
like one of her newly
laundered sheets.

She knows the
news to come.
He has betrayed her
once again, forgotten
her like their dog outside
the post office, left her in
the kindergarten of his
heart to wait .

Again

so long since the dawn of dusk

i am young in my dreams again.
i can shoot marbles and win again.
the rail line still shivers under the
patient iron wheels of a train that
passed all those years ago. i still
wear the hole in my shaded pants
which my mother meant to mend.
i still chase after the pigeon that
escaped to the gutter on the roof.
my teacher dusts his well-worn
shoes before he turns to the
homework we did not do.

Nightmare

A tantalizing sight amongst the dream of days
an almost imperceptible image as the sunlight plays.
I reach out but find reality wanting
I falter and hesitate to seem assenting
to dark and lustful thoughts arriving
from the murky fog of magical mountain pathways.

The likeness takes on a sensual presentation
Should I flee this fast approaching demon
Dark and heavy beside the tomb
over-powering dazzling lights in the gloom.
Crazy! This fast approaching portent of doom
creates no response just absolute resignation.

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