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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.

 

Pussying

You yourself poet
have belled the cat
very few,
including me,
understand the riddles
behind camouflaged poesy
so beautiful
and
a pussy,
I still see from the rear balcony,
as dogs with open lashing tongues
erase moments of ecstasy
awaiting their turn,
to take on
while others are at it
this was my impression
but you beat me.

A poet is one ,
who says what?
and
so many ask why?

The Intake of Oxygen and All Its Complexities

What was my problem with the world again?
Oh yes, it hates me
Mostly on Saturdays and alternating Fridays
Once a month on Thursday
And at least twice a week fifth period.

Lately the universe hasn’t been so bad
(Hey, it hasn’t been amazing either)
But I’ve had my moments.
Some I could’ve gone without,
But they were kinda nice while they lasted.

The woodbine decorates its host in yellow
but gay blossoms cover its true intent
as it attempts to choke the little tree
or at the least leave it twisted and bent

Young tree accomodates its tormenter
by bulging bark between the ropy vine
which tightens as the growing tree gains girth
it's mere luck this tree's not a soft barked pine

This alder I spotted beside a road
on verge of death as its starved leaves browned
I cut and freed it from its stranging foe
a helical staff I now tote around

No Hope...

The emptiness of space
crowded up against his face
It moved inside his suit

Surreal, the blackened envelope
enfolds him, gives no hope
It wriggles in his boot

Now he dreams of home and kin
Things he'll never see again
To Death, these thoughts are moot

There is just one, last labored breath
It echos in the ears of Death
He hears " I love you, " Awww, that's cute

THE DEVIL MAN

THE DEVIL MAN

She gave her soul
to the old Devil man.
She was only twenty
And when she called
him honey
He gave her plenty.

She gave out
He gave in
It’s all about money
The world turns that way
Now ain’t it so’
Honey ?

three thumbs on two hands

There are nine horses in the meadow,
wildflowers and grass,
fate counts them one by one.

Empires of bees and frog dynasties disappear
as do cities of the dead. Destiny
rides them into wind and ashes.
Everything is ashes in this world and
the molten rock is filled with ceremony.

In the flat land (where flat people,
soak in skin),
three ride four horses.

Creme de la Vociferate

trinket of sugar
bleeds frozen
platelets
falling through the black

through the eye looking
back

a smoke image may
recede climbing
through the body of
doubts
this drawn leg restless
this weak ankle bested
an hour is a scream
you sigh
dripping whispers
while dust breaks
patterns in gust loved
parking echo lots

Love Reigns

Dusk still,
Sky red,
Blue shadows,
Touch flower beds,
Flickering flames,
Embers aglow,
Light up the dark,
Like the soul,

Silver clouds,
Soft and slight,
Moon bathes us,
In her light,
Stars wink,
You blush,
I smile,
Then flush,

Grass moist,
With dew,
But all I feel,
Is you,
Warm and humid,
Soft rose,
My darling’s mouth,
Beautiful to behold,

a dreamy night

a dreamy night

I remember the nights beginning
a smooth taste
strong nightcap
to take the edge off

a sip of the joy juice
bitter on the tongue
takes the pain by the throat
kept at bay until morning

there's a lot to talk about
not much remembered
abundance of hearty laughter
over everything said and done

I awake at dawn
measuring foggy thoughts
peering through cloudy scenes
from the night before

We Tell Ourselves Stories

We tell ourselves stories
Of days that we are glad
Sad
Bad
Times that are hard
When with our bear hands
We scratch through rocks of insanity
Seeking out broken answers
To illuminate our puzzled existence
As the threshold into our souls
Are shut tight by the nightmares of our yesterdays
That comes to haunt our present selves
And threaten the tranquility of our tomorrows
As we dream bitter of the meadows
And the bliss waterfalls at the countryside.

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