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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.

 

sexual bliss

happiness through sex....
the whole purpose of sex
if any at all
was to procreate
and
thus create
a new entity
you call it happiness
I call it a kid
love is the essence of all living,
remove sex
and
there would be no need of life
no strife
no need of seeking happiness,
as you shall have nothing to compare
no theory of relativity
and there wouldn’t ever have been
an Einstein
and
a mind
like mine

it is what it is

 

memory
of that which is done
enfolded within the scar
of a remodelled heart

a vessel
for that which is left
dates, name
frogs
and an icon

a song
for that which will always be
jeremiah was a bullfrog
was a good friend of mine*

 

*Three Dog Night

MISTS

Turning clean sharp edges rough
as do the mists of passing time,
their tiny drops adorn my coat
with shiny crystal beads
as delecate as frozen rime
and small as ripe pearl millet seeds.

I wipe them off with hands grown rough
hunch my shoulders to belay damp chill
then quietly cough to clear my throat
as if it's clogged with swallowed tears;
take a deep breath to steel my will
while standing in this wooded place.

Rhyme Patterns (2) "Bitter rand Sweet" Scribbler

BITTER AND SWEET (rhyme patterns SS)

O the wonders of the spring
all the song birds perched to sing
a wasp just stung me on the ass
I've got to cut the freakin' grass

With flowers blooming everywhere
I've more than enough love to share
pollen swells my nose and eyes
new fire ant mounds which I despise

Ladies' fashions become spare
belly buttons and midriffs bare
along with men's knobby knees
plumbers' butts shine in the breeze

THE SILENT VOICE

The sun shines with broken seasonal rains
Besides, the wind blows on, all the year round
Carrying with it soft sounds since silenced
From the mouth of one who was first to speak
Harvested crops found their way to stomachs

Through the filtered nature of tinted self
Draped in a cloak of grey on smoggy screen
The protector of sacred scrolls dictates
I fight to transmit with quill pen and ink
Jotting words with difficult maneuver

Brevity and poetry.... modernisation......

another ditch
another pitch
another screaming bitch....
maybe that's what one sees
when one is in the gory of it all,
some pain
some sorrow
but clap the multitudes all
a bout perhaps of joy
and
happiness for the boxer’s collection
ends in matchlessness
that’s what all wrestling is about
another money making
stitch perhaps
after all.

I don't have a pleasant voice
so when I attempt to croon
the result is far,far from a tune
but rather a croaking type noise. (first stanza done by Stan)

My notes aren't always balanced
they're either sharp or flat,
but I don't give a jot for that
as I'm by mood influenced.

Some while ago I wrote a song,
I called it 'Song for Jenny'
but my doubts grow as oft plenty
that to her my voice won't ding dong.

RE-WRITE

Slam your heavy woes
for nothing merits pain
after promising day's gain
a pristine twilight shows
 

Clean the smell of hatred
with love we always grow
and profit in tomorrow
for time should not be wasted
 

Now, hurry up! come on dear
and put your hand in mine
our ways with gold will shine
with our intentions clear
 

vagary

sleep-work, work- sleep
days drift
immersed in a void
of sameness

mind tires
concentration slips
reality tips
the hologram quivers

an insubstantial shimmer
reveals a glimpse
a glimpse

but
with only the tools of the mirror
the soul cannot grasp

time melts
as rain and shine, dark and light
slither past
on the way
to future ennui

and
the illusion persists
.

du wirst immer in meinem herzen sein

nacht//////////////

I am wound
My armature is sprung

you leave the shadow between
light and hate
it has come
It has swung

autumn journey of the waiting
prepared
these vault sleepers
these Love seekers

tear touched
and lip pressed
with trembling souls

Alive!
Alive!

they are landing
rising
like concussion mists

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