Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

An Ode To Country Living

An Ode To Country Living

The buzzards in the trees and the inter-net fees
make country life a hassle
and its hard to sing when you're just a king
with a mortgage on your castle

it gets hot inside the old double-wide
when the summer sun is baking
but with winter’s chill comes a heating bill
that’ll make your soul start aching

In the Valley of Death and Love

My Tigers played good
Ran the big plays
Got out played

A big mouth, no humility
Two clowns poking fun
Sore winner take all

Loud mouth quarter back

It's just a game
Win some, loose one
In Tigertown

Stomped by noles
Defense shut down
In death valley

Clemson will be back

But in love-town, a lonely traveler
Walks the dark road of life
Through valley of love

Thought she connected
But you cut the power
To her love for you

Shifted

A rummage of grey clouds smother on high,
threatening dark and dreary.
Boredom fidgets indoors.
pacing carpets weary.

A mottle of melancholy dawdles,
while amble billows shift.
Tedium turns over,
waking the sleeping drift.

Google eyes yawn, retired in fatigue,
weighed by the moribund void.
The dull of stimuli
arrests the cushions toyed.

The clock thumps away the daylight hours,
with the seconds heavy tick.
Striking every hour
to jerk the mosey quick.

SLIGHT

If pain is commensurate with pleaure,
Why do I cry?
If heartache is what I treasure,
Why exacerbate the tries?

If losing is worth
The choosing
Let me not measure
Why I'd be tar- brushed by the feather
That is you!

Pp. 19/10/13

Turning Away

Caught within the crushing grip of grieving,
the preacher told me
“God takes and gives;
it isn’t ours to judge or question.”
Yet when I turned away,
accepting of his creed,
Cernunos took my hand
and tugged me back around
to warming sunrise,
his tails wrapped around my grief,
to whisper echoing,
“Do you wish eternal sadness,
or the spending
of your lifetime
celebrating hers?”

s i n C h a s m i c a

balcony balance
the smooth gooseflesh
ripple wind

updraft all entail gloss
lyric strand thread
undulations in dune
flat flesh
carved
with the lavish winds
tongue

beyond the tip
upturned nose
and hot rose
cigarette
end

behind the teal
iris
are ruins
forfeited and starved
with a hot fever

racing in vanities
mirror
the dark dance
a candle chance
a scandal advance

Sometimes I wonder

And sometimes I wonder
If my words are worth something
More than just phrases
Falling out of my mouth
Curled all around
In a bundle of nothingness
Waiting for someone
To figure them out
And sometimes I wonder
If this is all worth it
Just to end up lying
6 feet under ground
A life full of lies
To make others feel better
Without ever worrying
If you feel better yourself
So look in my eyes
And call me a cynic
But I know better
Than to take any offense

Ghosts

Dark settles on the walls, the street lamp blinks light,
dies, then blinks again. A moth- stuck inside the room-
pares its wings on the glass, falls to the windowsill,
then does it again. My eyelids do the same.    

I imagine his mouth; the ghosts under  
his tongue slide through the cracks of his teeth,  
find mine, stay there. And the birds at the  
backs of our eyes drink too much to leave.    

Aureole Blueing

That corona garland, worn by few
may be brandished by those untainted

Who by some great deed, in memory sewn
thus impressed an angry god,
were then received as canon

Years have passed, and those who are left
to right the skewed halos, burnished above the pews

Grow fewer, and fainter, air deprived inside
the stone facade, that must persist

The brocade of landscape, pastoral, longed for green,
reminiscent: but drying to brown outside

WALLS

"Something there is that does not love a wall."
Judging by the ruins Bob was right.
but there are folks who love them all.
They hide behind them crouched in fright
and there are many kinds of walls.

Some are wood and some are stone.
Some are real and others not.
Those which exist in mind alone
are the ones which never rot.
Redoubts of ignorance seldom fall.

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.