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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.

 

Mexican Death Squad

It is evening, the night is here
and we are all inside. A dog
barks.

Dolores' dress is
too dirty she says
though
I see no dirt on it.

It is stained in blood,
see it signor?
here and here she point
by running her hand along
the hemline.

I see no blood
as I search
the white pleated dress.

Seriously Dolores? Blood?
Si Senor Jim from the men
on the road, they have filled
the road with their blood.

The Seasons

We ride the earth around the sun,
A journey we all share
As winter comes I think about,
the end of another year.

A new beginning beckons,
Look forward tho' you fear.
Spring is like a flower which,
Blooms to bring another year.

In the fullness of this journey
That brings us all so near,
Summer is the apex.
Applaud another year.

Autumn is the season
When dreams become as one.
Rise up and let us dance,
In the last rays of the sun.

D e C h e l l e s

quickening we pace
an antidote sought
the shelter shell
a mask replaced

forgotten city
diamond dusted
broken like the cage
untrusted

the old quick wounds
defenses tame
taste thirsty fears
ghost seasons cold
embolden
enfolding
rise
like walls

a mist across the
distances falls

wall away ruin tryst
forgotten heart
enclave
enslave

the knocking in the
dead fall din
the darkness morning
like a fist

love twin

It happens sometimes,
I recognize the lines of his face
on other man
and we sit
in a nearby cafe.

In the background
you can hear a laugh
at some point
they start to sing
something
doesn't matter what.

His metal glance
turns him into satisfied dog
and a god I give a hand
to stand up,

for Max

it has hit me,
you died your first death
as a deep breath exhaled
never to return

memory is stirred
and the waters stain
a mountain of tears
rise up to brim
but are detained

the epitome of
a Gentle Giant
hands that could crush
held a feather light touch

quietly without words
your eyes said so much
blue orbs of innocence
calming all they moved

with empathy
you forgave,
even those
who trespassed
against you

In Between Worlds

Soon all time will bleed from me
I am torn between age and wisdom
as if I have been crucified by life.
the silence I endure turns me to
wood .

My throat burns with unspeakable
words that tear at my vocal chords
for freedom stretching like prisoners
on exercise.

I have the Mexican curse the
love of death but persistent
vitality which pins me to faith.

Shaken

There is a song of dying moments
I refused to sing with you,

a song of waning and of passing;
themes most common to all men,
but then the winds rose
blowing strongly,
and my fledgling faith was shaken,
oh my faith was badly shaken,
badly shaken by the wind.

In the middle of the gale
amid the storm of memories,
you came to me,
a small, brave lighter
with a fierce, exciting flame,

THRESHOLDS(edit 1)

I found I had become a man,
when it happened I'm not sure.
I wonder if anyone can
the line between is never pure.

There was a time when school and sports
seemed the center of the world,
a microcosmic life of sorts
from which I was far too soon hurled.

But even then I stayed a child
although married and employed
with transition not quite reconciled.
Manhood was that with which I toyed.

un petit cote rebelle

corner cross
the wishbone spring
that the worth wound forth
from

brisk brightness
glossy in the slipstream
turn down vollaire avenue
sentry neck arch
ginger tinged

powder misted
beneath us
the stonework lairs
"reve de minuit"

puff a kiss about
the slender Cohiba

a Hero

palms calist
a crooked back,
and silver temples.

shaky like a new born deer,
fragile in age.
wisdom spread across your face

scars spell out your life story
the old blue tin,
my childhood treasure chest.

your old jean jacket,
tall tales of rebellion,
and sawed off shot guns.

singing our anthem
windows down,
smell of the old Cutlass

shameless ambition sown deep
never to fallow,
raised to lead.

hero to my falling city,
saving my world,
and flying into the sunset.

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