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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.

 

what would Bukowski say?

I've never read a Harlequin Romance
nor fucked the group-mind-think that
thought the Republican agenda
with Democratic pitch-the-dog-a-bone
and let-the tail-wag-but-say-nothing-drones
of-the-corporate empire that begat the
son of God. Jesus. How fucked up does it
have to get? And I'm lost in a bitter tea, swirling around
doomsday with nothing more to say except
that Bukowski should be raised from the dead
and piss away the last poem of the earth.

the first sigh of morning

breaking bread,
breaking waves,
breaking the light
in prisms
of affection

what energy
suffuses
the moments
before
morning breaks?

a songbird lingers,

I do too.

HONEY

HONEY

He slipped his number
In your hand
“A handsome man
Of sixty-two”
Said you.,
Honey.

You were only thirty-three’

You liked his Lauren and Armani
Were impressed by his Tommy
“Never saw nails so clean and shiny”
Said you
again,
honey.
“Must have loads of money…

That was the end of me
Now he’s screwing you
And you’re “screwing” him
Just like you screwed me
Honey.

By the way.
Did you know
I still cry over you,
Honey..

Stand To Win

What do you stand to win?
Everything
And what will you lose?
Everything
Why challenge yourself?
It will be worth it in the end
Even though they doubt your skill?
I will prove them wrong
After all the times you failed?
I will get back up
Though you know what lies ahead?
I have gotten this far
To slay the greed of others?
To approach a dream
Why even try?
I stand win
To fall
To rise.

E N T R O P H Y

out here the wind knows all the names
of gesture
and shadows swallow the blue that
cries from the vaulted crown of night
swathed in fire

we creatures stir
awake from ghost dreams
with plans itching in our souls

the blacktop drearygrounds
spun in neon and skin
like the last tail
of sin to wash away the
sunwet kisses

ribbons of velvet darkness
and course street laughter

canyons of fear
deep and falling
forever

The Caution Tape Means It's About To Explode

A strap of yellow with words of black should tell you that something's about to happen
But you're never around to see that any way, not many see that side
This place is a grey area, but arguments are welcome; we like to hear people out.
Welcome to a different side of the moon, a side you could only guess at before and might never understand
Still you’re here, so that’s encouraging
Maybe you’ll be the one to close your eyes and see me today.
This is my world where all are crazy and some have ink in their veins

THE LONG STONE WALL

As the winter nears its end
and time of new leaves fast approaches
on the southward shifting wind
the chore of clearing stones encroaches.

So one more fieldstone on the wall
to join with all its settling brothers,
this one the heaviest of all
but not much more than all the others.

This year's stone drops right in place
as if the spot were made for it.
In the past some others lacked the grace
to achieve such perfect fit.

Junk

Motivation pulverised deep within a low down beat
With snapping fingers and a saturday night strut
Mr high slides by.

He is filled with arrogance and swagger
He's indestructible 
A ladies man, a mans man, he seduces them all

Then he has them and the mask slips
His grip is vice like
Deathly it's hold.

His evil Hand drags them down 
Into the bowels of the beast
Leaves them there to drown.

for Hedy Epstein

The barbed wire of words
cuts deep into the flesh;
ask any Jew
her bloodline in the covenant
of history,
broken and betrayed
spat upon, and gassed
to death in the name
of the iron cross of hate.

Regeneration...

Sprinkles of sparkling diamonds
Tossed from the tops of blue waves
Sun drenched skin of brown

My happy place
Refuge from the cold world
I shut the door

Batten the hatches...
The phone is off the hook
The door-bell doesn't work

Your voice is but a murmur
Distant seagulls drown you out
The breeze says no one's home

Wet sand at the edge of the world
Cool drink of sweet aloneness
Drunk from frosted glass

The door rattles from ebb of tide
The wreckage of life
Is swept away

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