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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.

 

Lorraine(Workshop Submission Storytelling In verse)

Lorraine,‭ ‬even her name
Is a tinkling of rain drops to my ear

Red velvet grown clinging to every curve in her body

The ebon hair exposing a delicate neck

Crystal blue eyes‭ ‬that glowed,‭ ‬radiating her beauty even more.

What caught my attention above all

Was the ruby choker with its three tear drops trickling along her breast

How much my eyes did see,‭ ‬they remind me of

A slash with it’s droplets of blood.

How I quiver at the thought.

The blood pounding in my head

Pulse raging out of control

CONCRETE

the sun hidden behind a cloud of organza
the moon hood shadowing on the skyline
of tarmac, sings a ballad of loose fists
after holding tight for a whole collapse of the night
a car pours and pulls out like a water drop
on the highway – street lights
so yellow flicker into Dickens fate
and the Moby Dick is me, upstanding
on white guidelines of foreverness

The Yield of my Bequeathal

To my parents I give crazy "props"
for putting up with me,

they provided great examples
which gave me integrity.

I also thank my siblings
for when push came down to shove,

they made me a better person
each combining to teach me, love;

and from then on I was willing
to share myself with all my friends,

giving me true substance
instead of following the trends;

which made all the difference
in the way I shared my heart,

Why!

Why is it that all artists and poets,
are at their best
after sex
It’s a natural thing all enjoy
but still younger ones fake
while the elders do make
and
the artist puts his experiences at stake
then upon a canvas reveals
the artful deals,
as poets lament
but readers fail to comment
Oh! why can someone tell me?
the effect of abject nudity,
that energizes the human mind
more than subtlety

FINAH SANNEH

Villages were sacked
Houses burnt, men killed
Boys and girls taken away
Tears poured like August rain
In Freetown and up country
Sa-lone, my motherland
Reduced to rubbles
Helpless populace displaced
We are now refugees

Love dressed in Anger

Death has come
And it isn't
By knife or gun

Dragged burned
And stabbed
What have I learned

Not bandage,
Injection or elixir
Can cure loves vestige

Anger is bound
To this hollow space
Where the heart isn't found

Love lingers
In a empty vessel
Feeling deaths fingers

Far down without light
Squeezing every ounce
Left of loves fight

Twinkling far above
Is a place of hope
Flying high as a dove

VOLUPTION DISPARGE

curveness
done in pretti
aubergene
and l abythe
green as
satans eyes
say shadow
do you sate
what abates
and you call
me babycakes
and melt my
show
like a full decked
fickle whore

and you told me
all you wanted
was more
more
more

eschewing it all

You looked through a keyhole
and saw the sun setting between rows of winter houses and bare trees
you were oblivious once
I was too

peaceniks lined the street
and we sang refugee songs

under the lamplight we searched for
keys to each other's imprisonment
we were blinded by the light
and read Molleire to medicinal plants
we grew to exchange truth for something
to eat and bite into, the moon was much younger
then....

Roses

Roses are my fave...
they make one brave...
upon the button holes of kings
and
upon the graves of mankind...
roses we all find...
yet do we know...
Roses never die,
in the book’s pages in the shelves of time
they lie
and...
that's why roses never ever die
When you open a page of time...
roses come to your mind ...
the fragrance remains
and
love doesn't stain...
roses, as roses even though dry ...
come alive and forever remain......
roses never die ...

The Job (story in verse workshop)

" Valentine's Day,
this world is out of kilter,
and they, they are more than deserving,
for there is no god, no woven magic
and everything is permitted."

He hadn't always thought this way,
before the fire it was ten years old
and all is well.
He could still hear his father's voice
from the foot of the bed,
" This night, we are the deserving".
Both parents consumed, his older
brother too, and him

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