Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

My First New Car

I grew up a poor country girl living on the out skirts of town. We would move every year like the military form place to place and house to house within in the same little town of Turbeville.

There weren’t many neighbors, so me and my siblings, two boys and five girls, spent most of our time roaming the woods for fruits and berries. We played all the outdoors games we knew and created some of our own. Those were the days of innocence and youthfulness.

wind through wattle

wind through wattle's perfume to me whispers
pure essence enticing taste-buds to spread
visions of old gods and ambrosias

emulating honeyed-nests of lovers
as eighty angels dance in each flower-head
wind through wattle's perfume to me whispers

independent yellow-haired Septembers
down in the land of the Waratah bred
visions of old gods and ambrosias

with the Wattle Australia remembers
endurance, by its floral emblem led
wind through wattle's perfume to me whispers

Way

At my journey's end,
When dark and warping cold
At last could wend
Their strangling hold
Around the vacuum space
Where my poor heart
Would always race
To speeding start
Of empty faith's embrace,
I found instead
A new and different place
That inexorably led
Into belief bereft of wrath
And without sin,
Leading to another path
I could begin to tread again.

"I'M LIKE THAT LITTLE STONE"

"I'M LIKE THAT LITTLE STONE"
Margaret Ann Waddicor October 2010.

I'm like that-little stone in your garden,
that keeps being seen,
but you don't always see it,
sometimes you do,
as you stub your toe against it,
and wonder at the little stone,
that gets in your way,
sometimes if you look carefully she is me,
that also gets in your way now and then,
in ways you do not approve of,
too close by far,
but
she is only there to love you.

Motivation

Fear works;
has since the earliest tribe,
the first strong voice of unreason

... but reason;
hides in secret corners,
baring greedy teeth,
slobbering success in numbers

... and the following grows.

Afraid;
we congregate,
allured to the heat of the crowd,
and find ourselves growling,
armed ... with mob intention.

Repetition of History
Kill the Enemy
Motivated Murder

... when will we learn?

water

water

this is the water that wore
granite down
in the merry month of may

this is the water that wore
granite down
as flowers bloomed
in merry month of may

this is water that wore
granite down
as flowers bloomed
picked by an angel in
merry month of may

this is water that wore granite
down smooth
as flowers bloomed
picked by an angel of a throng
in merry
month of may

YOU ARE NOT ALONE..

when you need somebody to talk with,

i’ll be always here,

just as when you need someone to hold you back,

i’ll carry you with care,

when you see confusions on the road,

i’ll show you the way,

when you feel down and blue,

i’ll do brighten your day,

when you get lost in the dark,

i’ll be your light,

when you met your restlessness,

i’ll be your night,

when you met puzzles in your life,

i’ll help to play,

when you need someone to love you the most,

i am here to stay.

it's better if she doesn't know...

it's better if she doesn't know,
better keep it from than to say it all,
i felt stronger yet i always show
a big desire for an impossible....

if she knew my feelings, she might build a wall
and eventually she might hide her glow,
when on is a sight of an untimely fall,
it's always better if she doesn't know...

Hands Across the Park

The New York winter sun
has risen in your East,
and will set in my West,
for this one shortest day.
A world shrunk to a patch
of wooded arbours
where souls can meet
and find their willing flesh.

This snow-cloaked park
is all that lies between,
its crooked, spinstered trees,
naked from abandoned leaves,
are veiled and downed with
the frost-flecked confetti
of fleeting bridal relief.

Music of Lascaux

I can only hope
the first song ever sung
was a happy one

joy, wonder,
startling beauty,
and simplicity

not unlike the brillant
cave paintings of Lascaux

the Blues would soon follow
I assume
stands to reason

man is many dimensional
but immediate feelings are prime

hence, the blues

"every day, I've got the blues"

a simple statement
yet, true, I believe
to virtually all
since sentience arose

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.