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.

 

A Mother's Touch

Delicate as a butterfly,
Deadly as a viper’s sigh.

It must be simple,
To call me a dog on the street,
A villain if you are really angry.
It must be simple,
To look at me and not see me,
To listen to me and not hear me.
Or maybe it’s not so simple,
But you do it anyway.

It must be fun,
To laugh at crippled children,
Because you hate their parents.
It must be fun,
To cry falsely with perfect tears,
To laugh truly with flawless malice,
Or maybe it’s not so fun,
But you do it anyway.

Reedswood Road

street like a circumpunct

a concrete toybox

with a hatchback heartbeat

 

brick-orgies of houses loom over

the lawns shaved with diamonds

the rituals

the microcosm

 

conjoined houses breeding

dull children

with photograph senses

with monotonous syndrome

with weak bodies and clean teeth

 

the clocks are lazy here

 

II

last month I was rewarded by dead badger

head draped over curb

like a masterpiece

 

by noon he’d been cleaned away

The True Haul of Life

The True Haul of Life…

They’re hauling life about on their backs,
I can see it’s heavy invisible hard shell.
The only worry my people now lacks,
is about a non return ticket straight to hell.

Not that the rich don’t want us to have it,
they’d get rid of us commoners in a flash.
But they know they’d be well in the shit,
finding someone else to manage their stash.

entwined serpentined

nothing lesser than exotic
the simmering and the shivering
quivers aroused
all over the silken
eel like curvaceous body
serpentined
entwined
and
dipped in white wine

sweet as the rose’s liqueur
if ever you've tasted
supine oozes the fruits of love
tasty
and
luscious too
who won't relish the sword
with which slice
Oh one time lover you

For August

Venus's eye stares above the garden
Its sullen eye blinks- then hardens
16 veils of August night
Venus shares with bird winged flight

The garden black beneath the heat
Starlight stands, as petals speak

OF OLD TRUCKS AND THINGS

"When will you buy another truck?"
my wife asks each time she gets inside.
Then I reply "With any luck,
this old heap will be my final ride."

She just smiles and rolls her eyes
as I sit down in the driver's side.
This back and forth has no surprise.
My truck wears miles with shambling pride.

It's paint is faded, clear coat is peeled.
My rear has worn the seat to fit.
The floor board dirt's nearly congealed.
There may be fossils beneath it.

Used To

l used to be attractive
as lovely as a flower,
l know looks fade away
with every filthy hour.

l used to drink some alcohol
quite regular, in fact;
it was pointed out to me
l didn't know how to act.

l used to be ambitious
impatient as l was,
now l've time to criticize
what everyone else does.

l used to care so deeply
when others seemed to hurt,
now others say horrible things
and make me feel like dirt.

Miriam

Dressed in serviceable spotless robes
Her demeanor savant adept but muted
Anonymous
Softly moving with polished grace
Around the table
Serving the diners
Who deal with her as an afterthought
All the bowls and utensils exactly placed
With pride of touch and inner peace
Her hallmark
Perfection in everything
And grace in serving
Simple caring dignity
There are thirteen this evening
Simple food for rough hewn men
Counterpointed
With curiously gentle principles

Internalizing

I do tend to
consume myself
within myself
It seems to come naturally
no need for help

Why do I have this talent
to own my reality?
Am I really
lost in my insanity?

Clarity seems vague and distant
like I'm lost at sea
fog
Withholding my resistance
Futile thoughts of undone chores
pilin up along the shores

Blood & Guts #1

The way you’re stuck inside my chest
 is best
Twisting my guts to coils just beneath my flesh

If you look close you can see it ripple

The muscles moving, mangling my middle

Manufacturing something like a slow and painful death

Pages

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