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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.

 

R E V E R V A R I A T I O N Z

THAT door with its faulted LOCK slams and
clicks...the magic touch
the deadbolt unsliding
an open thought
in the drafty light
like the cigarette haze
the perfume drape
on tired furniture
the tricks of xmas lites

voices linger like a
travellers lullabye
an echo of moment

jacket full of promize
and an empty blaze
that races in our haunted
passion

Answered

Two little blackbirds
part ways forever
and nobody bothers why,

the sun sheds a tear
just before she sets
and philosophers do not
even care,

those keyboard sages
from the east and west,
where snow falls
and summer is a thing,
they won't ask why.

It's only I who seems
to care,
to worry why
the earthworm dies
without a marked grave.

Moon Madness

Prostrate. in fevered dream light, I swallow your kisses,
drawing sustenance from empty myth, as your waters break
over my parched dying soul to breech my needs in cold
nature once again.

Where are our fifty daughters as I howl at your passing?
Would that they nurse their father's madness with a single
waking touch, as my dreamless finality nears? There are no
armored sons close as I convulse to memories of my youthful
loves and lie, pale, and abandoned to my chosen course.

Many times when you break up.

Many times when you break up...and hold another’s hands …
you always recall the warmth of the first one...
who had held your hand …

but then comes a barrier in between …
his ego and mine..

His anyone can define…
but none can mine

I all along my decades of sharing knowledge…
have requested all
take a step...one at a time… lest you fall …

and most love to fall along with the ladder…
that's about all… and then make stories tall ------

We really should go to Hell...

We really should go to Hell…

I hear the soulful sound of the whale
that great beast that commands our sea’s.
The squawk of Gull or squeal of Hawk,
all are carried over on an angry breeze.

A giant Bear stands tall but hungered,
roars from an iceberg so very small.
We hear, wondering why he’s angered,
not giving thought to our actions at all.

Listen and you’ll hear the Seal cub,
calling to her mother wanting milk.
Man calls for more land to be raped,
that his sleeping attire be made of silk.

Memoriam

Fifteen bandsmen stand in line,
their linen white as flour,
their uniforms are stiff as death
and ready at the hour.

The weather casts a sullen mood
the air is very still,
the clouds withhold their tears for
they know its not a drill.

A rusty trumpet crudely blares,
to spit its splitting cry,
and suddenly disturbs the air:
three crows take to the sky,

Three crows! I knew that was the sign,
I saw it in my dreams,
I heard the flutter of their wings
I heard their mocking screams

Slowly burning flame...

All the time …
I am on fire...

my body flames …

none is ever with me to play …
my daily loving game …

so I invite all who do play…
and have a happy day….

just to read my poetry as always
and imagine how within you …

it causes an explosion
commotion and hopefully
an imagined orgasm-----

if you fail
let me know …
to hell
I will let my exotic poetry flow….

Have a try today….
such an opportunity….
comes in, if at all…
once in a way...
have a sexy day...

eye level

eye level by Ron Woodruff (BD77)

2-amine

twin show visions
whispering from beneath the sour hiss
of the pump fridge coolant hum
the dust darkness smirk
as fun as the stark stare of the kitchen
window

winking red light phone
a stack of messages
before and before the tidy
hours slipped from a sun filled
departure to the midnight
arrival

blue bus thunders past the
lights a universe of flouresent
apparitions staring

i can read the walls and calculate
the codes from channel fifty four

What's in a name

I see them a way in the distance
Talking amongst themselves
As if there was no time
They whisper my name

Why do they gather so
Have they nothing else to do
I sing to them in thought
They laugh and know my name

“We cannot hurry” they say
“Why “I retort as if in answer
The question was long sought of
The answer was my name

I tire of your thoughts
The evening is too grand
To listen only to the starlight
I did not hear my name

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