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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.

 

Song of Anger

I have aged
For so long
In the cage
Of self rage

Life like hell
Anger eats me
Hard to tell
Friend from foe.

In my eyes
Rolling like dice
Any side faced
Life is woe
Head to toe

Anger without choice
Has made me
Mad at everything
Raged at anything
Calmed by nothing

Can’t help it
The growling anger
Worst of all
Angry at myself

I give you a black rose

All I have to say is that I love you
but its all in what I have to do
ever since we said goodbye
all I wanted to do is die
and get out of this big lie

Ever since we split
all I can do is grab a blade and slit
see all of my blood - dark red
and me lying on my bed
can you tell that im not breathing ?

You said I acted childish
you said all I wanted to do is play
but now you see me here as I just lay
just laying her with my vains split
all because without you I feel like some shit

Windy Day at the Lake (imagery workshop)

windy day at Cooper's lake
a wind storm takes shape
dark clouds spin tornadoes
across clear blue water

a picture on my cellphone
running for the basement door
my dress tail caught a draft
I parachuted safe inside

Your skin slight colored from cold
Every now and then a warm breeze blows a bright leaf
That lingered against a darkening sky a little too long
But either way you hardly notice;
The startling soft touch of rain is on your neck
And the sky is the churning mad sea above
The trees lay themselves bare and dance for you
They have nothing to lose, stripped of their green.
The storm you had not seen is approaching
Whipping up creek water in the dark blue valley.
The storm you never even thought of before.

An unexpected visitor

A well spoken Martian came calling last week
He popped in the house for a chat
Though I wasn’t displeased
When he coughed and he sneezed
I was miffed when he swallowed my cat
He said “ I am frightfully sorry,
It isn’t like me to do that
You must think me a hog,
For I much prefer dog,
Or a rodent, like rabbit or rat”

Walking On The Beach
The sand hot ,scratches and burns
Until I reach the cool compacted wet sand of the shoreline

The force of the waves dragging the sand from under foot
gives the strange sensation of movement
As the mush squishes between my toes

Shoreline littered with broken shells
bite at my feet
Bending to pick up a handful of seaweed only to find
it slippery and oozes past my grasp

FIRST FLOWER (variation) IMAGERY WORKSHOP

FIRST FLOWER

After a great to-do beneath the surface of the ground
the loam cracked and shook, one minute green tip shot up
the thrust of a sword searching in circular movement for the sun,
that spinning ball of fire with leaping flames
that lights up our rotating earth in spasms rhythmical,
all matter in the woods is ever moving, turning,

Buddha's Muse

She walks
behind the Buddha
with her jeweled eye
focused on
nothing.

WHERE I'LL BE

Should you think to look for me
some day after I have gone
the grave is not where I shall be,
of that you can depend upon.

Why would you hope I would be bound
to bones and dessicated flesh
mouldering in the cold dark ground
where the winds never blow fresh?

Look for me in a chill sunset
at the end of a cold winter day
when the moon has not quite risen yet
to announce the end of day.

Breakage

A hairline crack becomes a hole
Swallowed by an eternity that never could last
Though I suppose it could be for the best;
After all at the beach you’re allowed no false security.
But for all the right reasons I cannot see this light
That everyone is so convinced of
So swayed by, but only biased by really,
And I’m at the point where I question myself;
Is reason evading me or am I the one running?
Can I do so much better, is it my fault?
Is this why I can’t write a song?

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