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.

 

Beckon

Beckon…
Blurters put their words on bucks.
Life with bucks is more than lucks.
Freudian slips are says are bad.
Sell your Betty all are sad.

Blushless pays will buy your names.
Train her ways and all may tame.
Trainee fields are training goals.
Win my Betty all are those.

Traitors blurt the words of classes.
Sell your nations all must pass.
Roses and wines are PINKO drinks.
Water damages some are rains.

p a l l i s a d e . . . . d a r c e . . . .

haunted rotations
the nail hum

a moon lifeless and pale
floats in the frozen field
of stars

like icebergs
shattered
and orphaned

alone

a dorm room phone rings
a handset lifting
and your voice
sweet and full of sleep
says Hello

A HOLY THING--new update

A Holy Thing

As I decline and begin to fall
a holy thing from deep within
begins to shine in me
and I realize
I will always be
somewhere somehow

these dying eyes see clearly now
the nature of all living things
I mourn the years gone quickly by
and hold them safe
where memories lie.

and if it is a soul I truely have
I hold it in some holy place
hidden in this sad heart of mine
until I know it is time
to let go

Cold Homes

 I've looked into houses
not really *homes*
some are palatial
with luxurious domes.

Well-furnished,
their hearth's lit,
yet cold still the rooms
and the beds.

The souls
seem strangers,
shadows living in holes,
or some ill-bones
and shattered thoughts
just gathered
under some bricks
and stones. 

FOOTSTEPS IN THE SNOW

FOOTSTEPS IN THE SNOW 
3rd December 2012.

Smooth sheet
stretched between the posts
a silken fabric ready to be disturbed
by nature's bustle
lying silent, white, asleep
so still,
so unperturbed,
existing in its virgin quiet
when no winds blow.

Below the crystals beautiful,
the grass succumbs,
still green,
unseen to grow
the sky that changes
from the indigo of night
is slashed with light
as dawn begins to show
across the plains of Salisbury.

Scrabble Finale

The exciting, nail-biting finale
Oh, playing time has finally arrived
Family competition of Scrabble
Ah, over dictionaries we have strived
It often finishes in a squabble
Someone’s vocabulary has nose-dived
Tommy's poor lip quivering and trembles
All because Robbie chanted, mocked and jived
The whole table begins to dissemble
An argument from where the word derived
Oh dear, watching all good spirit crumble
Hopefully, harmony can be revived
Next time, one of these ideas I hatch

Bribery sins

Bribery sins…
.Spurns and prides are taking passes.
Passing balances all are cases and tasks.
Some retakes are warrants put.
Pick the tough ropes not only straws to last.
PINKO god-some will need the disciplines.
Doors to Eden just are door ajar.
Some things harmonic needed our justices to cohere.
Feels are fear alarms that mighty come.
Something uprights needed our uprising.
China premier WENJIABO bribery sins then some of them must also sinning with so.

Rummy wakes

lost to a dream merchant
the counter a bed
the lights wink in the chrome sink
and the clever skill wrists
are slunk to the pocket depths

an ear exposed beyond the thick
shine of dyed black hair
anonymous grifter colour
like a great wing
laying shinning down the
length of wool
the tiny back

Snow and rain caress
the plate glass
and there is joy in the voice
of the bell
that cries arrivals
and departures

an aviary angel sleeps
in weary wings
and working soul

Plastic magic Pen..

Plastic magic Pen…..

I once had a plastic magic pen,
that sought the stories of heroes
way back when.
Each hero was to be of a different
breed, it would be good if all you
Poets, writer’s would take heed. .

This pen was interested in gathering
their stories, and writing them into
the futures glories.
He needed to find men and women
who’d been brave, even if they were
now in their grave.

EMPTY SPACES

EMPTY SPACES

I stand in an empty place
reaching far and wide
no horizons to hold onto,
and I am lost in vertigo.

useless are recollections
short flashes of life done
replayed in Death’s refraction.
meaningless are words
for they only say, never truly tell.
fearful is the silence I hear
hollow echoes of my prayers
into infinite spaces. *

*BLAISE PASCAL: “Le silence éternel de ces espaces infinis m’effraie” [The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.” ]

Pages

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