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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.

 

Death of a Poet Laurette ...Seamus Heaney

Death of a Poet Laurette

''In the hearts of men
there is compassion
poets are a living example
so was
Seamus Heaney''

Chrysalis

Disperse the prism of reflection
Colours Crystallized refractions
wane
Warping the silken pad

Pupa dreams
Only a delirium of fruition

Moth to flame

Left to languor
Upon the befogged

Wishes now musty
Mutations insoluble

Wings of shattered want
Flutter not
Nor float upon the breeze

Extinct heart
Dawns its reality
Eyes wide now unshut
No cocoon exists

Confined to heartbreak
And its dissipation

Flying high disrobed
Mating now forsaken

Dissolattidue

fragrant drench
coiled sleeping
the dampness
leads

drop by rolling drop

the concourse rivers
full of detrius droll
evolving slowly
a bright and tinted flow

If I knew
the pressed
and ready
buried depths
between margins

how we lived
against our
contexts
and breathed
the spacial sighs
while snow
walked against
a mirror world

night waited
and wolves walked

snow globe parcels
of niche crept minutes
television
cholic

Lullaby Heart

Gluttonous loneliness chews and grinds
upon the lifeline of borrowed time
sumptuously feeding all day and night
beyond drawn curtains of human sight.

Remorseless persistent depression
invades
accompanied by pantomimed dark
charades
silent suffering voices fear to
speak
from rusted armored shells so paper
weak.

Dying shadows of displaced memories fall
across haunted eyes reddened and dull
Reason is imprisoned behind bars of pain
as the death masked warden executes your name.

dumb deaf and blind

dumb deaf and blind
They say I am blind
I don’t mind

They insist I’m deaf too
How can I deny the truth

Then they say I am dumb
Now that’s being numb

If I were so
how could you know
what I say
but alas it’s the laptop
by the researcher’s way
they can guess I am so

and
so I now confess
dumb I’m, but no woe

But so was Helen Keller
she did not consider these as handicaps
nor Mahatma Gandhi of India

he had three kind mice

Monotera ...

It all started one lovely May.
The sun there wove a golden way,
the stars, the moon in no delay
begged us a hey, begged us a hey.

We thought we'd have our life-for long
to play tunes that never go wrong.
A stream of passion keeps along
with every song, with every song.

We were words, those printed to hold
a story written deep in gold.
Yet misty shadows blew to fold
a tale been told, a tale been told

single breath poetry...

Single breath poetry

I do recall
your name after all
you were on call ,
but then your poetry was,
not, that isn't now,
as invaluable as this ...

I read your self eulogy too
and
share with you
that I too have had four fatal falls
but as there was no place in heaven
God kicked me once for all
and said
stay there till I call

Sex is my weakness
as you say too,
you have a prescription
my spouse says no, to,

The Time Shift Of Love

A stormy whirlpool spins.
Words chomp and churn, in capital bold type!
The swirling library of jagged edges
is swallowed whole.

The words disjoin and fall apart,
crumbling into oblivion.
Only to be regurgitated then re-chewed,
into black ink bile,

The ruinous fluid is gulped down.
Its constituent parts mix in the gut.
The bitter wormwood slowly evaporates
into the time shift of love.

d e s s e r t i o n a r y .. d e v i a n c e

shine light
the thin reasoned crawl
crept in a sweep
the minute hand

shudder wind
leans a shoulder
and a thousand
beads of rain
shivers

radiolight glows
and an ashtray is
lonely with the
carapace
of thoughts
drawn in

thunder of buses
and a red eye
turbine stitchs
a beating pulse
red in the mists

approach

tentative the touch
pulse
the shoulder of
a turned aside
memory

THE SWING

THE SWING

On wings of wind I flew
feet high into the sky
ecstatic vertigo
seeing the world swirling
below
free as a soul
in flight
leaving it all behind
closing my eyes
to see...

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