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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.

 

I'm listening...

When another makes the effort
To reach out and touch someone
There are ears that listen
To the message in all sum

No matter the rejection
Keep trying to be heard
Just try and try again
Someone reads your word

Loving and being loved
It’s not easy, so I’m told
In a world that does not hear
In a world that’s cold

There is warmth here, in some hearts
for those who pay attention
Just who they are and where
There is no need to mention

DAYDREAMER

All he does is sit all day
before a window looking out,
what little hair he has is gray.
I wonder what he thinks about.

That window fronts on a small wood
there behind the nursing home.
He'd love to walk there if he could
as in his youth he used to roam.

But he is stuck in his wheel chair;
a stroke and bad hips keep him bound.
His eyes tell he'd rather be out there
beneath the trees on shaded ground.

words coinage

words coinage

poetic
creativity
challenge
rhyme
rhythm
sound of music
praise self
by
others the vivacious:

forspacious skies

in a foggy fjord
a monk, turned warlord,
was starcrossed
by a second fate
rightous victory waned
like cold crystal diamond fire
in the big blue ice

cue up despair
like a bitter old man

like the three sorrows
that are Jerusalem

like dark houses
in mourning and rembrance

time for the big empty

wait!
a plan
a daring escape
impetuous
but, for him, as inevitable as death for all others

The wild Side Of Oblivion

The Wild Side Of Oblivion

Meet me on the wild side of oblivion
By shadowed moonlight
we can play at being what we will never be
by day

Smoke filled skies
essence of dust filled dreams
astride a pure white stallion
with lightening hooves

In fields of poppies and lavender
petals for a bed
there to sleep between rain drops
and be as one

Only on the wild side of oblivion

Motes of Dust

The narrative of the occlusion speaks
in the name of god
and judgment reeks of the heaven-sent.

The eye turns inward.

How can humans be so deluded when
they possess opposing thumbs? The
monkey hurls the bone and as if
scattering ants on an ancient tree
ready to break out in war
we choose our side aided by
the
complexity gene,
patterns within patterns within
nothing at all.

nebulous wandering
over epochs of eternities
time
heaping unto us
infinite
nows
gifting our becoming
interweaving
souls into a
wonder of miracles
orbiting aeons
rhythmically
tracing sketches and profiles of
heroes and heroines
manifesting in an
orgy of
revolution, turmoil
entities colliding
transmuting
happiness and sorrow
and in this particular
now
tide moved to encourage, and
hour
in its infinite wisdom
supported my plea, so

THE CONFESSIONS OF A SPIDER-updated

THE CONFESSIONS OF A SPIDER

I confess
The moment wasn’t my best
I sat down beside her
for I did lust for her curves
and waves.
as I made my way
to lay
my head upn her breats
suddenly a hand sent me
into a spin
and I could sin
no more

It's not easy being a spider
in love.

simply wasted breath

simply wasted breath
The elite poets have already spoken

being adept at free verse
not boasting of being a poet at all,
I feel you have the potential
of the highest mountain,
shielding a volcano to explode.
and explode you must,
as well as explore
beyond the realms
of the poetic constraints

Shakespeare wouldn't have been living till today,
had he stifled himself
with poetic limitations
In which we prefer to chain...

WHAT IT AIN'T ABOUT

This ain't about advancing age
or its affect on strength and stride
I'll not write such on this page
this old fart has too much pride

None want to hear of loss of hair
how it migrates to back and ears
why would anybody even care
to hear about the late night fears

Who cares about loved ones now passed
or the ever shrinking pool of friends
the worry that I'll be the last
of my classmates to reach their ends

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