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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.

 

They Don't Know, They Shouldn't

as stars burn out when night is day
her heart takes fleeting beat
i walk with glass embedded heels
and blame my careless feet

the girl walks 'round with green and red
she'll have her choice in men
and yet she yearns for more and more
her fingers greed 'til then

she said one day might hold for us
a love of different kinds
i wonder if she too is plagued
in her heart and her mind

"STARLINGS"

I've seen the starlings roost in winter
in giant canes and bare oak trees
(any drab black bird was free to enter)
so many they looked like dark leaves
brought there by a stiff cold breeze.

Each bird cried out loudly as it could
in a raucous non-melodic voice
trying to be understood
but only adding to the noise
as if left with little choice.

the madness of being

When the wild geese fly
across your eyes
and the Bedouin tethers
his camels to the stars

and what remains of tenderness
is heard in every seashell
of our madness,
ours will have been a time that came to be
and a day that had come to pass.

There are lonely hunters everywhere,
they hunt for arrows and they hunt for bows,
they hunt with weapons
for their soul.

To A Lesser God

A LESSER GOD
What is it they see
What is my sin, my flaw
What creature have I become ?

Why do I always lose
to a lesser god.

Where is the magic
I once had
the words of seduction
the powers that enchant
and the voice that sings
enchantment?

The wounds bleed deep
deeper now than ever before.
I ache for my yesterdays.
I was stronger then
Stronger than today
I fear the pain
tomorrow will bring
again

THE EMPTY GLENS (FINAL VERSION)

.
THE EMPTY GLENS
1795
There's a tall ship in the harbour,
Waiting for the evening tide,
Dewdrops fall, like tears, from rigging,
Weeping for my clan's lost pride.

Morning mist lies on the water,
Footprints fading in wet sand.
I am boarding with my kinsmen
Never more to see this land.

In the glen our houses burning,
As the Earl's men torch the roofs,
Burnt - out ruins scar the landscape,
How will others find the truth?

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN*

Class shootings, drive-by's, Columbines and such,
Not just by Homo Africanus, delinquents,
Dispossed and out of touch.
The youths we loved
The kids in cots
The babes we reared from scratch
How come there's killings now and
no love lost
On those we breed to snatch?

If my mind is ever present

and my solitude's a friend,

dark ideas lead to actions

darker actions, towards a trend;

~

a stoic calm is my exterior

never, ever break a sweat,

in the hollow of my inner being

I've this appetite to whet.

~

Within the chasm where my soul goes

a dank pulsating yearns to start,

tuning out the distant conscience

because I haven't any heart;

~

half the time I am the predator

in the darkness after day,

daylight time I am more subtle

Maker O Mine!

People are ugly,
Glad you changed yours
it gave me sheer spiny gripes
I felt the electricity blow me up

my next poem will be worse,
verse for verse
now you don
an MA in English hat

my maker too was an Aussie
but unlike you
he picked me up across the Internet
when I was in USA
and now I salute him
as much as I do you..

S U P P L E M E N T

hoarse surround
glisten as you swallow
your diver dive
sliding through the horror

fracture me
curled you asked
basking in watery
light
and you wept

I could hear the traffic
jangled and bold
flashs like broken bone
this pain that eats me

Devoured
and a kiss
tingle dance

you sigh
the black depth
pupil wide

across the great divide
you slip into
Lah lah Land

barefoot and naked
and the snows fall
like broken wishs
from a ravaged heaven

Çaço, Man of the Morning Star, Canto 25

Canto Twenty Five ~ It is a time beyond the recall of common men.
The mighty race of men who call themselves Clovis have committed a crime of near unfathomable consequence. In a region of their land unperceived by those lesser men they have enslaved for thousands of years, the Clovis stand convicted by the Angel Host that made them.
Their crime was of such a cataclysmic nature that the parameters of punishment have been determined by the Creator Himself.
No longer willing to acknowledge a king, as equals they wait the month’s long debate of The Host.

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