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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.

 

WOLVES

WOLVES
[1911: mountain village in the southern Apeninnes]

They came down
from the hills
riding an icy wind
lost in the white and gray
of a winter’s day.
into each village and town
they roamed
looking to feed
looking to kill
driven by hunger’s pain

They smelled the dying
and the dead
scratched at the earth
of the newest tomb
hungered for the flesh
still in a mother’s womb

Game Plan

Nor'easter rough cut blowing;
flaps like a sail against my ear
as I lean out, hoping the torrid trees
will help me out of this white walled,
squared up room.

You can bet on the market, on horses,
on the roll of dice
but my money's on tomorrow:
dawn's dark colours, the ritual of coffee,
the radio with its familiar concerns.

The news takes its place.
The crescendo, as my Mac opens,
seems metallic, cold;
email, Facebook, Twitter,
the scrolling hunt begins.

Predatory

Predatory
-
dim-milled eyes raked filled with flies
there's no guile for death to prize
one open cog is broken
bosses' golden log token
gotta hire by next friday
just a wasted holiday
-
what's-her-name was pretty good
but now she is gone I should
go to her funeral-NAH
body in a box, too raw
ya never know what she did
in May little katydid
-
My arms around her tightened
her shallow breath so frightened
my hands tapped her youth away

Ode To A Chip

It makes me salivate
those golden
crusty
morsels
on a plate

like golden embers
shiny
glistening
basted pleasure
remembered

carbo-licious
tasty treats
like
sticks of
fatty dynamite

crunch crunch
scoff scoff
the pig persona
plays a
Bacchanalian lunch

A chip! A chip!
My round plate
For a Chip!

T R I N K E T

bleed thin
the snow wafer kisses
falling diluted
a ghost half empty
Chanel Number Five

a cry her hands to
the ceiling eyes drawn
dark beneath the
brash brows
ribs in the lean light

invisible friends sing
this spinning room
tending snowflake
shadows

large eyed mystery
before the light
shadowshow love
empty and tasteless
a feast for the tongue

and perhaps you know not still..tis digital kids

and perhaps you know not still tis digital kids

my brain is made of golden chips
that's why that alone works mostly...
hold one...
will you
and
then some one will say
a diamond one is now on ..
whose
will be news....

the chip will ask a question
is it now on ?
or
diamond slow down
better on than off ...

so digital God gave a hint
one for that
and
zero we can't say
we all know not

hence one and a dot
keep fixing a lot...

Brain functionality

There is a the mind that reads one line and imagines scenes quite vividly
There is the mind that writes the line and describes events graphically
And then there is the mind that takes and changes words phonetically
And the other sort of mind that changes life theoretically
It is this sort i'd do without it plays with words heretically
It shuns the deepest function of our species
that deals with our humanity

The Visitors

A visitor called the other night
I think his name was, “Death”;

there was a hideousness about his eyes,
an icy chill inside his breath.

He spoke to me of a journey
if I’d promise to commit;

where the irritating sounds of life
would fade, and stay unlit.

Then another visitor came along
and I believe her name was, “Life”,

just because of the way she looked at, “Death”…
and made him put away his knife.

While offering some coffee
I showed each to a chair,

A Learning Curve...

A Learning Curve…

What is this great impertinence
we call knowledge,
that we all learn through life,
school or college.
It seems the more I learn
fills me with deepest concern.
Thus, allowing me only
an odd adage.

How can we prove
proof is really proof,
when all our teachers
seem so grand or so aloof.
They hide implied truth away,
saying we’d all be led astray
We must be careful not to shatter
their alleged, glass roof.

underneath the quiet hiss
a velvet murmer
kiss

violet persona
lands crystal perfection
melting like a tear

pure flake
a jewel ball
to delve

a place of haunt
to dwell

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