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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.

 

Nostalgic

Nostalgic....
At times I feel

Nostalgia is far overpowering
as we all recall
the times gone by

I do have such a memory,
implanted in my mind’s eye

for over many a decades
as if 'twere yesterday
but the memory remains till today
as if twas happening
this moment right-away
and I do say
pray,

let memories be our comfort,
all day

Let the night be chilly if it may
but memories will indelibly
memories stay

as if it was just yesterday…

Scribbler's workshop:

Storm's Aftermath: auditory

the winds die down
to a whispering breeze
birds begin to chirp
and sing once again
squirrels chatter
back and forth
as children laugh
in tune with
the ice cream vendor's
cheerful chime
and the world sighs
with a contented relief

Summer In Carolinas

When I hear the tweets of songbirds at dawn
Nesting in the oak tree outside my door
I smile at the sun shining on my face

A red bird scours the brown grass for food
Blue birds skeeter on tree branches above
Squirrels run up treetops scampering nearby

There is more fun in spring than wintertime
Tree frogs sing songs of joy at night
Fireflies lit the darkness as they mate

When I hear spring back, summer is here
Hot beaches call my name to the ocean
Hot sand between my toes makes me holler

Open Sepulcre.

From outer-space i behold,
a beautiful blue sphere,
what a splendid planet i comment,
look closely i am told,
what you see will feel you with fear,
so i looked kaleidoscopically;my eyes in torment,
past the green trees in the Amazon,
past the vast desert,
looking for something worth fearing,
in the animal kingdom i gazed at the sleeping Lion,
my eyes moving incessant,
endlessly searching but finding nothing,
till reason pointed my eyes to Adam,
I looked upon my kind,

AT 1:00 AM

Late at night
alone.
No company but thoughts
and memories.

Which lead to doubts
in old men.
Could I have done better?
Can I do better?

It is during these times
that the long knives
slowly peel our souls
and test the metttle
of our beliefs.

Do you ever wonder,
as I did in my youth,
why old men never seem
to sleep?

TESTAMENT

TESTAMENT

As time steals my days
I see myself decay
Still I have my mind
and pray
the beast will never find
me there
and if it does
i hope not to know
whereof
I came
whereto I go
and yearn to leave
this place
in the bliss
of ignorance
my enemies
my friends again
failures meaningless
where opinion rules
all betrayers fools
for having never seen
another human being
behind the screen
of words

SEPTIC TANK (IMAGERY IN POETRY - OLFACTORY)

SEPTIC TANK

He staggers blindly down the street, thick , grey fog swirls round.
The silence cheats him of his sense of hearing , not a sound .
He knows that if he uses the old walking stick he'd found
Then, like a blind man he could make his way

The bridge had washed away, now how to reach the other bank
He comes to the decision to cross by the septic tank
Knows he is near when all around him rises smell so rank
That he can feel his nose start to decay.

A Walk On The Beach(IMAGERY WORKSHOP SUBMISSION)

The ocean and it's beaches
what then is more wonderful
Thunderous waves crashing on to the shore
Beating the sand into submission
Sounding much like a violent storm

The hiss left by the breaking waves
As it scurried back to the sea

The air is filled with the cries of seagulls
In search of food
Radios from the beach dwellers produce a cacophony
of sound as different stations come together

First Flower/Imagery Workshop.

Kinesthetic/ First flower.

See how snow edged woods
display such white array of dazzling carpets,
wide, beneath the taller bare twigged trees
they spread their happy bells,
full dresses for the ball,
the grand explosive dance of spring
revolving in a waltz,
to turn the minds of birds and beasts
upside down, downside up,
round and round the round about of growth,
that rises, slowly rises up to light.

Jetty

awash in briny wake
my tale is sparce
these soaked foam
ravages from bitter
mouths that croak
as hungry cormorants
that trill

and how my shoulder
aches where we brothers
held our arms and wore
away the day like flesh
and lives that life did
make the meal for
deaths plate

(kettle is boiled
gotta go make coffee
take pain killers and
catch some sleep..
Was headed somewhere
with this poem...sorry)

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