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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.

 

The Fog

There are times
still
when the fog
rolls in
and you can't see
for sheer
density

You forget
for a moment
that the light
doesn't dwell
somewhere outside
but breathes
from deep
within you

but that is ok

Being lost
in the fog
brings it's own
beauty

IN THE WAITING ROOM (imagery shop) rewrite

In this waiting room I sit
old eyes are red from lack of sleep
hospital chair don't ever fit
wall clock's hands just barely creep

Stomach wanting to vent gas
as it rebels from vending food
but I refuse to let it pass
unlike some here in this brood

All the magazines areold
the newest May of oh eleven
one has even grown some mold
this place is near reverse of heaven

why everything turns green

My head is killing me with passion
and the dog is barking poetry.
It's Saturday and crows are honking
with an early morning mist. Sea gulls
shriek their displeasure or to argue
about why humans waddle like ducks
in and out of their cities.

Sometimes, I am so filled with love
for it all, there's no one left to speak
of romance.

Not today.

A Stranger’s Visit

He stood silent
With an empty face,
Clad in invisibility
And leaned on a monstrous sickle
Right there at the entrance
Pitilessly watching
-our beloved
On that grim bed
As he laboured
For a piece of breath

A sad sight
And we who claim
Ourselves masters of herbs
Could do nothing
Not even see,
Plead or fight
Him that stood
At the entrance
Neither reaping
Nor helping
Or away leaping
To a different field

Crushed Velvet

Crushed Velvet

Plunging into
the crystal clear waters
many secrets hiding
under the luscious
sapphire pools
of lonely
indigo shadowed desire
meets with delicious
subaqueous forests
of rich emerald
crushed velvet desire
revealing a haven
of beautiful acceptance
where the starlit silence
of her fairy
childlike devotion
pure and resplendent
in a swirl of melding
this tide pool of loving...
the meridian of the soul

Indictment Of A Passive People (Pt.1)

The words that will leave my mouth I dear say
May not be what you want to hear
But now is not the time to cast your bait and hook
Hoping that you will catch a fish in time for lunch
The time when you could have relied on hope:
When time was on your side – when you could have
Afforded to take aim and miss – that time is long gone!
But since you are blinded by your self-delusion
That your present state could only be worst not better
That your standard of life is the way it should be
You have unconditionally resigned from

CRYSTALLED CRACKS (Imagery Workshop)EDITED.

CRYSTALLED CRACKS

Listen to the still of winters exit

lulled in the heat of march midday

hear the great tit shout for joy

see the silver drips

that drop from snow-clung clumps in trees

smell the sudden brew of autumn's pungent leaves

the sky reflected deep deep blue

in pools of melted ice
too fresh to taste

icicles tumble, heavy thuds

their crystal forms crazed, cracked

transformed to lacy netting

holed and patched

A WALK IN THE WILDERNESS

It started like a play at work
I saw some scary shaded forms
Meet a good sister of a friend
The rest is a tall tale you hear

Our people say this all the time
A trickster does not put his hand
In the pocket of one his kind
Lest the two pass others their mess

Looks deceive people a whole lot
The more innocent, the least suspect
Grave is the danger it can cause
Vigilance becomes the watchword

Docile clammy gown
I am the sad man clown
drawn down
these darkened cloak scenes
the shaded eye
with curved lash entice

the water tap chome ignites
with the pallour of the light
the pale hand has taken
the need
from cabinet lair

tumbles a clip for the hair
bright and shiny
cosmetic soft the jewel
colour call

it dances in the grasp
the porcelain world
dulled and sullied

for Rachael Corrie (When a bulldozer is a tank)

Some say the greater art is the one
that never lived
like symphonic acts of refusal dancing in the rain
that
never comes but once in a lifetime.

Who is that who that wonders why poets
write words that rhyme when olive trees are bare
and cut down to make room for progress
at breakneck speed, going going gone
beyond a truthful thought that can never turn back
to live outside of itself.

Bearing witness, facing the tank or the bulldozer,
life lives its greatest art.

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