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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.

 

Time has age me

Time has age me since paper was put to pen
Walking through life in more rain filled question
Why does it sing out with the poetry that I cannot omit
Time has age me since paper was put to pen

love only oh man

beautiful poetry on love
but whilst you are on mother earth
find a real LOVE...

all the best poet dear
many will like you to endear
and love them as youth warrants you
and then alone heavens will welcome you

for the service you rendered on mother earth
where you had been sent
to Y chromosomes present
and lend the selfish gene
a loving hand
wherein man can continue
as long as one can

lend him yours too
as then only a whole being
they all will consider you

little Miss Muffet

Little Miss Muffet,
sat on her tuffet,
quite comfy, so they say,
She looked at the spider,
that sat down beside her,
and swatted the blighter away.

He whizzed past her face
at such a quick pace,
much to her great surprise.
His mouth was agape,
contorting its shape,
while blinking his multiple eyes.

The wind blew her hair,
so pretty and fair,
that he became obsessed .
He grimaced a smile,
that looked somewhat vile
and his legs curled under his chest.

The lnevitable Day of Reckoning

Whenever l am quiet
l gain ways to comprehend,
l listen more intently
and hear the message others send.

Mental clutter seems to dissipate
my very instincts are more clear.
l understand my friends, and family
so my heart holds them more dear.

l focus so much better
when distractions fade away,
my expectations follow suit
so emotions can't betray.

At my best l am a listener
an observer l become,
providing me keen insights
that alludes not all, but some.

Ghosts

Dark dark night
Staring at those
Dark dark eyes
A silhouette of not an angel that hides

Floating,
in the air...
hush...now hush...
watch it disappear !

Don't wake me up
I'll catch fear
These eyes only wanna see you
in my head

When I turn the lights on,
You disappear....

Why do you disappear?

The Bard and Others (a sonnet)

Some eat the biscuits, wear the finest silk
and travel 'way towards the furthest star.
They'd sleep on roses, wash with whitening milk.
They hardly bother; living lone and far.

Some feed on fodder, wear but heavy chains
and travel there, where mirth could never land.
They'd sleep on thorns to loose eternal pains
where utmost misery gives the hell a hand.

Fight the Power of the Pound

Fight the Power of the Pound

Where are those kind heroes
whose stories never die,
who gave up wealth or freedom
to fight for you and I.
I’m talking about Mandella,
Luther King, or Nigel Benn,
will I live long enough to ever
see their likes again?

Though my heart is strong and I
may strike for a few years yet, the
feelings I get from today’s people
put social fighters under threat.

It Didn't End Well

My mind is astir
I wish things could be as they once were.
My heart is drowning in sorrows,
sad for those empty tomorrows.

From high up I fell.
I hit the ground, it didn't end well.
After bouncing off jagged rocks,
with nothing absorbing the shocks.

Numb.. for awhile,
my stomach churned with sickish bile.
I tried to move, but I was stuck;
felt as if I'd been hit by a truck.

H a z e l

drizzle trix
melts through the tangle of toes
the valleys of dark
tickle trough sins

like a thin belt sated with
thin gold stubs
tightened
and leash pulled

the soul plume
exquisite
and falling
grasping air

pulled into
need
the swollen lust
crash
gasping

full large hazel
eyes
and the black
peirced depths
behind the flicker
lashs

Radioactive Hope

It saved them all, you know;
those caught within last
slow throe of extinction
inevitable in the face
of so-called human progress;

For in that final place of wilderness
men were busy building homes
and businesses
stripping woodlands, plowing meadows,
paving marshes,
crowding out solitude and beauty
they sought with so much diligence,
killing off the very thing they wanted
with the squirming thick
of swelling human masses.

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