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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.

 

Three Winter poems

20th December 2012.

THIS MORNING

Hills delicately touched
with seeping light of morning
dawning in the east,
they lie like icing on the cake of day,
the heavens tinted pink and grey,
pale blue a back-cloth
peeping through the haze,
the temperature ten degrees of frost,
a buzz of traffic dully reaches us
through silent roofs and trees,
the trees,
like statues of themselves,
there is no breeze.

DAWN

mayan gregory

there is a mismatch between the Mayan
and
the Gregorian
current calendars…

earlier on, life was lunatic
lunar based
now it’s pragmatic
that is scientific
Equator oriented

hence you all are welcome
for breakfast at Tiffany’s
at 8.30 am sharp
22nd December

Light Our Path Ahead

Into a new dark age
we go, marching,
careening headlong

[of soapbox poetry
there is no want
for many a voice
loudly rail and rant]

the terrain of our
condition and that
of our experience
has changed over
year upon year of
progress that has brought
us closer to the edge
of a generation that
lives on the horizon

itself

peering further on

beyond

to challenges invisible
to our yet untrained minds

To be missed

In the end it’s all about women.
When men create it’s not to emulate the womb,
it's to impress women.
Yes, about getting in her pants
but more about getting close

There must be loss and grief in the parting,
because when men are all gone,
women will remain.

THRASH ABOUT

I listened to the year of songs
Wondered on what to sing
A song of choice and preference
From Africa of my childhood
I stopped to laugh at the sound
My baritone booming big
In dialect songs of stories
Of folk lore and moonlight tales

It is now a year of poems
I have a handful inscription
But none of them has got a rhyme
To decipher my native ways
Of African thoughts to English
Like the struggle of the hopeless
A malfunction reflects the dearth
This terra firma bereft of text

Teacher's Pet

Teacher and schoolgirl ran away
out of the playground he wanted to play
for a long time she was groomed
in his presence, she bloomed

Teachers pet, lots of treats
extra stars and tasty sweets
he boosted her self-esteem
believing she shared his dream

He forgot about his loving wife
thought they would build a new life
he took her away to a hotel
thoughts of their activities, I quell

KEEPER OF THE FLAME

KEEPER OF THE FLAME

I am the setting sun
bleeding crimson-red
Into blue horizon.

I am the moon riding
In a midnight sky
shrouded yellow pale.

I am the Keeper of the Flame
with a prophet’s name *
and when I forever fall
I will have kept it written all.

*Jeremiah= Geremia

COLD DAY DESTINATION

Trudging through cold winter rain
shoulders hunched against the chill
all the trees now bare and plain
how long 'till they don leaves again?
Easy to think they never will.

For year and I have both grown old
my long trek soon will reach its end
like a ribbon near unrolled.
This old poet can't pretend
that much of my story's untold.

Remember To Forget Me

You must forget me

As to do otherwise
is to tear wrench torture
what's left
of me

I'm left on promenades
walking in straight lines
but not reaching
my destination
jutting out in rough seas

I float a firm footing
over boiling cauldrons
but we all know
the soup is now
spoiled

I can bear all
if you are erased
bleached
whitened
out

Remember to forget me
Who
are
You?

Falling Snow

On those cloudy early evenings of
winter months is conjured up a certain chill,
even in the steam of this tropic place.
Unlocked are stored up memories
of other winters long forgotten.

There the sounds of evening traffic and the city’s
passing life are muffled deep within a wintery baffle.
This quite broken only by the occasional and
repetitious clunk of a carelessly fastened snow chain,
against the undercarriage of a home bound car.

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