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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.

 

AP by BlueDemon77

http://vocaroo.com/i/s1fVmHdaS3tN

AP by Ron Woodruff (BlueDemon77)

You the kind, my muse in the past

Never have minds and bodies worked

with such little effort

a day I know, and grabbing

the power and the scrotum

I knew it would be the end

......but I am powerful

You have been so gracious

took responsibility yet

always knew that an

for his howling heart...

angular
defined by the crooks
of letters
turned so that
their faces twist
into sheer delight

blazing
as open windows
in a burning house
so hot that the frame
morphs
into his haunted face

strong
if only for fleeting glimpses
into the future
that never came
and the passion

the passion
that has always
been

L A C I S T E R * I N C E P T I N G E R

the simple fragrance
shorn of love
licked clean by the winds
the emerald circue
of a cache phrase

ribbons of pleasure
like flails of midnight
the chilled brilliance
of a heel in a hallway

nerve capacitor fills
rising like a barrel
a narcotic twitch
the silken arm brush
of an enamel frame
the yellow bulb of a
lost age
throwing light on
the little staged
operetta

Pidey

A tiny weenie little ‘pidey
building her web
right across my monitor.

Poor little thing
though you’re most welcome
are you sure
this is your native habitat?

I hope and pray
exposure to the gamma rays
and other nasty effusions
from my screen
don’t cause confusions
in your genes

Will I wake one dreadful dawn
and mourn
my hospitality
finding you grown
into a huge mutant,
of great ferocity?

STOLEN SUNLIGHT

Day left with the summer,
winter's night is queen,
her icy dresses flaunted in the stream,
her starry lights the beacons of our dreams,
she freezes mirrors for her toilet,
decks the trees in graceful sweeping skirts,
her hair the gossamer of frosted lakes,
their wandering mists that rise into the weakened sun,
low slung among the firs,
her combs that card the heavens with her curls,
her toes reach deep among the roots,
her blossoms grow on twigs like crystal flowers,
her song an eerie wail among the pines,

View from the lens

Looking rather like
A rotationally challenged pair
Of the reddest veined breasts

I gaze back into my rendered
Retinas, which are healthy
And good, I guess, since childhood

Deigned them only a short
Focal length, shorter than my
Memory of anatomy

As retinas go. Blindingly obvious
The parallels with trees and roots
Or things with roots that see

Faintly tracing back a path
Through blood to something core
And bright as a disk

f i s s i o n t a i l i n g s

corkscrew slate
the nails wrung wrought
an apostrophe and dust

lead hulks and crawling
cracks...cold and frigid
are the winds through
vines let wild and in the
quiet mildewed settled

in books gone to pot
tales were read and
roasts rare bled fresh
brightness for vegetable
broth

A maestro is born...Reviewed kind courtesy expert poets

As sunset merged into dusk
under musical vibrations
of the moon
as witnessed by starlight
in its nascent form

a couple pranced around in circles...
upon the surf’s euphonic music
into oceanic depths,
boundless, fathoms….
a seed had been implanted ….

a flower through requisite moments,
transformed the genes
into a pretty form

as the midnight chimed into eternity
beyond the limitless folds of time
ere the aurora,
the twilight emerged
as a magnificent dawn
a maestro was born.

in the wonder

sitting and breathing,
I am again
in the wonder

there are fissures
in my night sky
I see a skerrick
of heaven

flaming stones
happen through
etching minutes
on small hours

starbursts course
onto the Milky Way,
snow in space and
angel dust in my eye

pieces of humanity
drift in the iris
overawed,
breathing stops

in the incredible
astonishment
of existence
and the favour
of life

I respire
once more

AFTER THE BEFORE

None the wiser,
are we, 
were we, 
will we be.

After the before,
going through that very door,
to where, 
a better place,
a haven,
a port of call,
is that all.

Or is there more behind that door,
stop up and listen,
what was that,
only my feet on the mat,
and yet I thought
I heard...
or did I,
no.

Its silent here,
just like a landscape full of snow,
the only sound,
a stream down far below. 

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