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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 point of no return

When we were children
We knew nothing of this planet
In the wood we’d build our dens
Play war games with our plastic guns
And cowboys and Indians
Then I’d be the Lone Ranger
Or Roy Rogers with Trigger,
Sledging in the winter
Swimming naked in the lake
In the heat of summer
Playing doctors and nurses
With the girl next door
We had no idea what to expect
The world was an adventure
A great big planet
Waiting to be explored
Yet, now we are grown, we find
Life did not fulfil its promises

moving man

if you have never defiled anyone's couch
you're not an angry moving man
the twenty-dollar tip running from your nose
heavy refrigerators you couldn't lift
in the crook of your back
the cast iron sarcasm of chipped porcelain
paydays missing you on those windy days
like runaways laughing, blown into a thousand tight spaces
with calloused hands
going from place to place they leave you
another empty room

Long ago on a small island in the Caribbean, (Puerto Rico) there was a people who worked the sugar cane fields. There was an abundance of cane in the town of San Sebastian.
This town was the largest producer of cane on the hills, in the village of Alto Sano.
The men of Alto Sano lived and died by their machete.

A TIME TO WRITE

While wrestling with a wriggling muse
I sit and look out rear glass door
and try to write of sylvan views
which have washed up on creative shore

Pen in hand and butt in chair
spiral notebook in my lap
snatching rhymes from the thin air
ink flows slowly as spring sap

Reckon I'm so deep in thought
that at first I do not realize
that my attention's being sought
by someone with emerald eyes

reciprocal hemorrage

dawn crawls up the floor
to my room
my echoed chamber
full of you

I can feel my pockets full
the soft sweet dampness
hanging on straining
wire with shoulders slumped

we wore lives in radiant expulsion
transfiixed and fickle
while radiator spoke her
murmur messages throughout the
past
and snowflakes ticked against our
glass

Flames

Sometimes I feel the flames
surrounding the form around,
make me dwell in moments of ecstasy
then devour me
as in consummation

Life’s just a flickering flame
worth seconds only
ere the flame blows
wow,
all is lost in the moment
of once having been
a being,
like a scorching feeling
petals or wings of butterflies feel
ere they are consumed…

The Home Fires

Oxen of the sun
birthing canal
Wilde on his rock
colouring banal

Bram stoking fires
Behan's door ajar
Kavanagh with kindling
hailing Synge from afar

Yeats in Ithicabra
polishing his horse
Beckett in Bray
waiting in morse

Joyce yet awanders
ash thatched to hand
plitting a plot, plotting a plan

TREASURE

TESOURO

O homem quem gasta a vida
Procurando um tesouro
Perde aquêle que deixou
Atrás
Não sabendo

Eu sou os raios dourados
do sol
meus olhos lapis lazuli
e meus labios rubis de sangue vermelho
meu coração opalas puros
brilhando reflexões na luz
da minha malancolia

TREASURE
The man who spends a lifetime
Looking for a treasure,
Loses the true one he left behind
not knowing.

in passion i cry

there is more to loving than having sex
so much more to hugging than french kissing
in passion I cry, be my love always

not just my lover

make me rain in the late hours of midnight
let my heart sing bump bump tonight my love
the pressure builds inside my limp body

listen to bones crack in my inner tighs
feel joint slip out of place welcoming you
stand up as flood gates burst open suddenly

The hot steamy masses flow freely from
passion bellowing everytime we make love
in passion I cry, be my love always

Arnald and The Red Baron

There he goes again
the defiant determined
young fighter pilot

Racking up kills
never getting enough
scanning the skies
for the infamous Red Baron

A bright red plane
with iron crosses
on the ends of its wings

Constantly thinking how if only
he could shoot him down
the amount of fame and glory
he would receive

How he would be the one
who shot down the Red Baron
this infamous German fighter ace

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