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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.

 

Meeting there!

Meeting there!
Wherever your destination was, keep a place for me.
there we all shall meet
but will fail to recognize
as we shall have no eyes
still we will hope to hear….
oh hell where are our ears
we couldn't hear when on earth,
how in hell now
after the follow up of birth….
well then we smell the perfumes may be
but noses have also been drowsy
so wait for me
when I come to London
then make fun
we shall with utter abandon
all are welcome….

I am writing a poem for you. It's not likely to work.

I will try, even though I will probably not get it right.

It might help if I think and then write. Confidence also helps.

Or I could take a peek at a poem already in vogue.

 

I am writ / ing a po /em for you, / it's not like / ly to work.

I will try, / even though / I will prob / ab..ly not / get it right.

Workshop: 

A new place

From a place that is waiting there for me
Not my cave, and that bloody cup of tea
I have told you so many times before
That I may be the keeper of the door

I shall laugh out so loud like a thunder clap
Saying do you remember this old chap
The one who you gave no space to
Well this place is full and can’t take you.

I know many people that can sit at my side
They gave their best and in love did reside
Here we have no place for bigots who
Had a chance to be, with me and you

P Y X I E L

cinch at the weather
the wheel clench
leather

drive my little driver
sling us through
bring us few
the dark Darling
smile

kitten tongues
and pearled teeth
the happy dub
step heart beat
thrumming
in the cage

sweet sound
wretched wreck
on a rushed
quiet stretch
the sun shines
us
the swift
hot honey bolt
find us
a bathe
a splash

and downshift
heel calf
boot depression

Our fair share

We all have our own minds
we all have our own slices
we all live
but together …
we can't live alone
can we?

we must value the other
money is just only paper
you can burn and get a burning flavor
but then guilt is your entire share ….
leave it or take it,
if you care …

Indebted

A memory,
vague misty grey,
sees a little girl at play.

Her brothers there,
no voice, no face,
just a void of empty space.

Fragmented shards
of clarity
filter through the murky sea.

He threw a fork,
with no intent,
it was just an accident.

A gaping hole
between her toes.
Tears trickling down her nose.

Her parents arms,
although unseen,
lifts her up, as in a dream.

No noise, no sound,
just bloody pink,
swirling round the kitchen sink.

Down the Aisle

There is an indecipherable complexion in the way that you look at me,
Oh please forgive.

The soft silk sheer veil admits to truth,
Oh please forgive.

Petals falling
Recite lost poetry

Do you still want me?
Oh please forgive.

Weak knees
Fear retribution

Parting lips
Fountain prayers

Oh please forgive.

A black tear
Diluted with sin
Further corrupts ivory

Please.
Forgive.
Let me go.

Do you want me?
Do you own me?

Let me go.

S a t u r i a t i o n

languid lean
the cool embalmning of the screen
the whisper of traffic
behind the veil
nights sequin lights
harsh and tiny
emblazoned
like glitter
sharp little shrine
reclined
on tired sheets
on shrugged off
ideals split ends
and worn heels

television
afterlife
tickling light
in tricks

the gravel park
a cigarette
drawn
in sculpted
mouth
while
clouds as
cold as a kingdom
scatter
visions

Experience cum knowledge

Experience cum knowledge
Today ....in fact just now I read a self appraisal

At times I have noticed
one drops words of wisdom
on my poetry,
which is hardly worth a dime
as my best critics chime
always and many rightly pokes
but more than education
it’s the experience ….which counts ….
I taught my mom,…. how to sign when she was nearing seventy… so that she could sign her Will ….

alas! she had nothing left… as her loveliest son
removed all of what she had
right under her nose

CHOOSING SIDES (part 4)

*****here within the waking land
where days are spent and love is made
each day's like one more grain of sand
or blade of grass in sunny glade******

On waking I abuse the clock
like on nearly every morning
the silence brings a minor shock
as if I muted some fair warning
my bedmate groans her own distraction

I pat her on familiar flank
then yawn and stretch, let flee a fart
beneath the pillows her head sank
to avoid such a morning start
no surprise at her reaction

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