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.

 

The net husband

Married men, married men
Always looking out the pen
Desperate not to leave the fold
Seeking cos they're growing old
Wondering bout their fading looks
Not thinking who'll be the cook,
do the washing, be the cleaner
Men grow older, they get meaner

Females seeking men on net
Will eventually hunt and get
Stupid married searching men
Hoping life will come again
In the form of twelve years younger
Than the current aging mother
Of their children and of them
thoughtless silly married men

BRAVO… that's what spirit is all about

BRAVO… that's what spirit is all about

a challenge to those who know
that this way they shan't walk again
even alone….

so be thyself
let the world go to hell ,
we have to live
the life ordained
so let it not be by our weakness stained

for tomorrow is definitely preordained
how….
none can that say
but heart within does display,
a desire that's what Loved can now say..

the hour appointed
has not yet been anointed
time has a time of its own

Female Company

Thinking that everything is fine
and then your told to check online
He’s looking for female company
and that company’s not me

If I tell him that I know
there’s no way back he has to go
I’ve hinted and skirted around the issue
but not ready yet, to lose me and you

I can’t compete against a computer screen
they can say what they like, not what they mean
Maybe it’s just fantasy
and he knows its not reality

In the gardens of love

My garden's blushing with colorful smiles
lively pink, yellow, red and fresher green
all mirror greatness that no one denies.

No more gray clouds to reign the blue skies
as spring only shows more delightful scenes
in gardens' blushing with colorful smiles.

No need to wish now for a warm sunrise
no more winter winds shall blow a serene
to mirror greatness that no one denies.

This is when love persists, it never dies,
but holds life in every corner and seen
in gardens' blushing with colorful smiles.

Lost Works

it is a place of grief and masochistic pleasure,
ghosts of Kafka,
haunted manuscripts
and burnt canvases

It bespeaks life,
death,
the caterpillar
and the snake
the moon
and her menses
things washed up by the tide
and things washed away

Nothing is created or lost in this universe.

CONVERSATIONS WITH A MOUSE

You know, she said, the color orange is insincere
What an odd thing to say
I don't think you have made yourself quite clear
And I really wish you would go away

Red is loud, she continued, I don't like red
It celebrates itself in everyway
Red likes being red
What else can I say

And the beautiful blue of the peacock
is full of pride, you know
What a rude remark, I thought
But it is probably so

Spider

The colored leaves
Hide my eyes

The spider web
Retrieves my rhymes

Wrapped in silken
Bed she lies

Her pillowed head
Spun sunset die

T E N S I L E

forum of heat
of fire
of warmth

the shelter of rain tumbles
hissing away the voices
the landcapes in the dark
full of wind
the bending ideals
of a youth long distant
and in the dusk

you are a visage
in a book
a brush in the morning
and a look
a voice up the stairs

this emergence
forever leaving

like a longing balanced
on the precipice

heart hitched
and alive
alive
and not afraid.................

Moving Picture Show

MOVING PICTURE SHOW

I’m about all played out
a lifetime of scenes and
short vignettes
celluloid and technicolor
pieces I want to forget
lying on the cutting floor.

Predetermined yet self- created
In a determined way
Identified by my limitations
betrayed by my strengths
existentially nauseated

Last scene is a cappella
Finish is open-ended

Fade out….

“Cut ! It’a a take.”

wow what a beauty

wow what a beauty

beauty can’t be bound in any cage,
it lies at each and every stage,
in the eyes of the beholder
that shouldn’t one at all amaze.

some men are more beautiful,
than women of their own age,
women though always remain
longer, much longer on the stage,

love flows from ones’ heart,
sex apart
the beauty is
of your divine gift
a lovely part.

Pages

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