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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.

 

Reflection

I looked with disbelief in the mirror

I knew that face so well, over many years

We have grown like identical twins

Time and time again smiling the same

.

Why did we not see this creep of age.

It has taken the youth from us

Destroying smooth skin and dimpled chin

I wonder why I still feel the same

.

You stare back and I can see your smile

You cannot hide anything from me

In days of good health and when I am Ill

You always look how I feel

.

I trust you with all my ways

IN WINTER'S DEEP

I inhale a deep and cold dry breath
then breathe out a cloud of fog
in a forest near as still as death
as I walk beside a frozen bog
where shadows stretch from slanting sun.

This first month of the new year
when heavy frosts greet every day
and antlers desert tired buck deer,
brings memories from far away
like painted leaves now all turned dun.

Tired legs lead me to a stump
where I sit to rest a while
and listen to my old heart thump
after hiking a mere quarter mile.
Far off I hear a lone hound run.

M a n a c l e s

like a brides hips
the solid draw rises
and the smooth seas
conscript their jaw mouth
rip
in frothing gunwhale dance
or the stolid placid hypnotic
chance

and the heel of tides
draw the folly of mans design
acoss her play
for keeps

she is beautiful and strong
at her thinnest the weakest
water like a mermaiden song
is more then a forge or iron strong

only three pains

three pains
there are three pains i know of the first is labour and she yells till the one comes out and yells she stops weeping and tears flow of joy now we all know as the voice drowned by the miraculous one.. then she recalls the pain virginous at the hilt when the hymen was split and the joy of pain combined the third pain is when one takes leave and has no more contribution to make the distant horizon bugles a summon leave all behind now let them pain life has to end somehow so wait of what of pain remains..

Who Knows?

...but, my love,
might our twilight years turn brittle and cold

shoulders slumped
the shape of question marks
posing
our fate

Transit ions

When the pace begins to get too fast
losing ground with each step taken,

the future is the perpetual past
another night I'll lie awakened.

The guilty will initialize
the innocent will pay the fees,

too late, we'll finally recognize
the bogus, random remedies.

Coerced by circumstances, fate
who's had no heart since birth,

solutions surface, but far too late
so situations fall on earth.

Attempting to keep a tame composure
which is all anyone can do,

Metamorphic

As landscapes go
its not dramatic
no high plains drama
no fragmented paving stones

the cliffs are banded
like wrapped candy-cane

Not even a lighthouse
to relieve the ash-like mud lines

It has a timeless sense
I could be a Victorian
a genteel visitor
or a rocker's moll

I sit on a gluteus shaped dip
of rock on the shore
in fact- place of daughters
genesis

her dad thrust & fumbled
under cover of twinkling
sheets soft ebbing swooshes

Gave me what I wanted

water beds (my first haiku)

fish finished fucking,
both breathless and soaked, must one
sleep in the dry spot?

Love

Love pierces the broken heart into a thousand pieces
My love, the continuous blood that is flowing
Knowing I lost the chance
Knowing I can’t get it back
The stained blood on the carpet
The imprint of my love
I was at war with love
Love has won
And took my soul…

A final respect in red, as she requested

I will wear red for Mary on this, her funeral day,
This tumbledown wet morning
Hemorrhaging manure and mud,
Her small farm
Deep in nettles and rusted things,

Scented with cows’ breath.

The whine of wet dogs
Still haunt the hollow barn,
Roof tiles missing, sky winking.

The frog-squat of the ancient church,
The place to give her up,
Chilled mourners
Stamp impatient feet on the damp slate floor-
Not quite approving of her life

the manner of her death -

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