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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.

 

Red, white and blue will come for you

The swarming crowd
teeming larger than life,
descends into your molecular life
with singular strife, a bugle and a fife.

Now, in the jungle of your bungle,
you bang your drum slowly with
all that is holy and still you can't
get that secular design out of your
prehistoric mind. You learn to walk
on your own two misanthropic feet,
though your knuckles bleed and you never
run out of things to say, this way and
that, at a drop of a hat in a magician's empty act.

this guy challenged me

you ask me!
you ask me just now
and shall write one for you,
as only love does ensue
from the crevices of my heart instantly
and
you can fathom the depth incessantly
at your own free will,
but all love you still,
for the love you give
and
hope you will continue
to read me still,
of course at your own free will.
I’m a naturally born poet,
and know no poetic nuances,
my words flow
out of sheer spontaneity
and
lovers like you
love to swallow
that’s all I know

To Meet A Mountain

Blue skies to turn white bones brittle
your steps lose erring spruice
deferring the reverberation of metal
that snake who offers the apple, now to a silent noose,
as if you had a choice, screaming
your wrasping voice quickly lost
grasping the loss of meaning
seamless endlessness is the cost.

Canto Nine ~ It has been nearly a week and Gundhag has finally sent the boy back to the battlefield for the young mother’s corpse.
The storm persists as he runs with characteristic speed to obtain her. The man he had imprisoned has escaped him, but as with all things in his chaotic mind he no longer gives thought to it. That a bewildered form of destiny had caused their paths to cross, and with the crossing possible revelation as to his ever hidden reality, has been shelved in the fearful corners of his self taught insanity.

Faking Dimples

Life never seems simple
Every day I fake dimples
To bury a secret
So no one can read it
If I could
You know I would
I am about to break
And you just take and take
I don't need peace
When you take pieces
Of me
Please don't turn out the light
Everything is not... alright
Life is a race
I cannot keep the pace
People ask what I am doing
But I am not sure where I am going
People think I am flying
On the inside I am dying
This is my knife
Deep into my life

Like this.

This.
And that you love me.
Even just that you are.

That you see softness and then it is.
That you lay down and I sleep.
That you are happy and so, I am.

You are.
And that you love me.
Like this.

cool down man

cool down man

you can't make everyone
listen!
many like me are
deaf and blind
in search of one
none can find

so leave your temper
far behind,
take God
out of your mind

cool down!

but you can't prohibit
poetry
that god alone does define
the critiques here
may refine....

Why this anger
I wonder
who so ever does
blunder
will get their share
why do you alone
about the unknown
so much
care...

cool down!
man!!!

Fallen Prey

mother scrubbed minds
gleaming halos of godshine
seen by no one
but fellow travelers
on the path of sheepy knee walk
grinning at the alter of a butcher,
giving thanks
for their divine lobotomies

N i g h t e n g a l a

strands of ideals
glisten ridden
upon the shoals
the hidden
tides
fishing

complimentary and pure

dipped in crescent notions
full of crespula reaching
bathed luxuriant and bare

a millenium breadth
spray fed and touched
an evening aura

worn in depths
smooth swept

Those Winter Sundays ( a poem not written by me)

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

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