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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.

 

Let Me Be

Let me sing a song of love
and of the things that bring me joy.
Let me sing of heroes slain,
of noble men and grand ideals.

Let me sing a song of woe
to raise up torrents
stir the winds
and cause the storms to cry.

Let me sing a song of life
and of creation,
let us dance with words and wind
and let us sing, o let us sing!

Let me pipe a melody
that reeks
with sweet romantic glee,
let me pipe and let the birds
be put to shame
and learn from me.

God's Gospel Treason

God’s Gospel Treason

It takes a helluva lot of conviction
to see a god on the other side, even
more I’d say, to promise to be his
bride. If god turns out to be a giant
prick that leaves their womb’s all torn,
do we the unbelievers, treat those who
worship him with scorn.

Remembering mom

We all love our youth … splashed across the windscreen of time …none can wipe it out … nor it contain …only moms memory of love does retain… closeted into the heart’s inner core

and

that alone makes us remember moms more….

as we walk the last leg alone…
kids about now unknown …
sans all as Shakespeare did say …
sans a breath for a new life today…
hope the walk will be one worth a while ….
which will upon our face bring a smile …

Till the Last Breath..(Trochee)(with audio)

http://chirb.it/9vAGfA

Heavy weights are crushing me.

Painful chains of history
locked my heavy fears inside and
flung the saving key away.

Filthy hands have built the Col'nies;
walls to part, and lawless policies.

Tanks to bomb extensive fire
burning innocents' homes and legacies.

Dozers deep in earth are digging
leaving grains of sand down squeaking .
Rooting vine and olives out
blazons farmers senescing .

Workshop: 

Myth, Fairytale or Reality? (re-write II)

When the final curtain falls upon my eyes
while the Gods haggling sounds like barks
and winged creatures do battle high above
for whom will obtain my life’s spark
as I return to the great void
to see where I will be deployed

While few who walk upon the soil
Speak my name
as darkness deepens in my brain
and deaths winter overtakes paralyzing all my ends
then the screen of life runs in reverse
before me I see all my turns and bends
have I let myself be sub-versed

i n e r t i a

tumult
the turn

gliding in the spin

alive with outstretched
wings
a chasm between
the worlds

of white
of black

not there
nor here

but in the ghost bridges
thundering
with wind
perplexed in rains
shivering
in the buffet
of passage
in a blink

like a mirror walk
to forgo
the future talk

Another type of "Zen Koan"

I feel the changes
The coolness
Damp breezes
Flowing in waves
The future holds us
As does the now
As yesterday is let go

There in the distance
We feel the winters touch
Yet what's this I hear
Across the mountains
Whispered by the streams.
Even a sailing leaf
I see it touch your hand.

Spiritual What!

Spiritual What!
To my mind…
there is nothing spiritual in living life ….
all is mundane
and
each one has one’s own frame,,,
to dwell in happiness or pain …
some love to within a cocoon remain….
passed life's living vein

whilst others brave the storms…
of the those who wont to slain ….
but within senses and distance remain…
spiritualism thus beyond life …
in imagination should…
as it does and must remain…

Middle Kingdom

There are gaps in heaven,
empty voids of godlessness
through which almost-angels fall
through arcs of feathers swirling
in slow spirals of building sin;
their ends are fissures rent in hell
filled with almost-demons rising up
on wafts of kindness and respite.

In the space between are mortals,
frail lives of narrow frenzies
caught by shifting moral webs
of goodness and depravity,
our prayers and curses fought over
by those above us and below
like starving jackals hungering.

S K R A T C H S T I X

Bent
existentialism
like a fender crushed
an impact
shook off

lift the volume
inhale a drone
a dearth of muse
bequeath the pallid
stickiness of a sickness
crawling
up the bones
like a lightning
strike far off
and distance
lit diffused
like a hot sucked
cigarette
caught on
the ledge of a sneer
dangerous and
loose
worn
and travelled
the colour
of gravel
in hair slept
on leather

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