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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.

 

Down Both Roads

Asking questions already answered
in a desperate quest to clinch a dream
by the skin of a tooth.
That is how life is like,
for any one born in a cage.

You see the ends,
and know the forced limits,
but when darkness falls
and your eyes fail you,
you ask the slave-master

"How far will you let me go?"

Oscillating like a pendulum,
eternal in the timed swing:
you are set to and fro,
and that is all you know.

where is utopia?

Coles doesn't stock spinach anymore
sometimes you can find it in the cans
but it doesn't come in bunches

I don't know what a spinach plant looks like
so I'd Google it

***

I want to find out what finding out is
where's the screws on my iPod?
my mobile?

how do you use a thesaurus?
I know it's not alphabetised like a dictionary
isn't there a search tab?

***

I can't remember what a stone looks like
in my hands, touching me

For Esker

It was indeed
a great day for me ,
when you passed by my solitary lane,
somewhere in the maddening wilderness .

That you having been declared the best,
by the only poetic authority
enlivens my heart

I am no one to commend,
but greetings I can send
to a poet who time views
as God sent

Alas, I am a solitary passerby,
In this vast arena of time,
where only death bells
for ever for me chime ,
so anonymous,
Loved,
is a name of mine.

Some People Are So Amazing

The genius in you rocks my emotions, and
Volcanos under virgin seas, erupts
Rumbling noises heard miles away 
Warns islanders of pending smoke and fiery ash
And demons behind my eyes seek your demise

You never cease to amaze me with your crafty ways, and
Hyaenas live at bottom of the food chain
Scavenging for quick steals from lion king's hunt
Learned hard lesson from power of kings roar and mightiness
And a kingly crown of thorns I've design for you in my mind's eye

A Difficult Subject

I will come back to see the book you bought
We shall read the page you talked so much about
If you still have some doubts on the main theme
We may have to call in the one who knows
Judge not from the piece I gave you to read
I can see that I am no where near good
I start to count my words with hand and pen
This stalls the flow of lines from head to hand
The muse waits in the room with a stern face
To go or to come back, she seems to ask
My fears rose high if she will come at dawn

Workshop: 

Don\t Read This

Many survive on the bones
and raw flesh of corpses,
to boast and bask in the cauldrons
Where they in reality smolder…
The guffaw, the gumption they boast,
they feel the world is
about them to toast

A sullen face falls
and
when the world around does awake,
Like foxes into the forest they escape,
tails wagging below the horizon
they are actually dead
ere the new morn sunrise is arisen

Chain (eddy styx) (updated)

Chain

tug my chain
my attention to gain
I rise and follow
in near silent pursuit

I am addicted
although restricted
to track your footsteps
from far behind

knowing not
what you've got
a devote disciple or
a stalker with sights trained

here a warning
far from morning
stray not from safe abode
down darkened paths

speak no slur
of stranger's spur
or a worse fate than reproach
occurring by blooded blade to endure

SUNRISE IN THE PARK

He sits alone on his park bench
on this frigid winter morn.
For hours he's not moved one inch.
His heavy coat is old and torn.

With gaze unflinching toward the west
where the sun set this past eve.
No breath stirs within his chest.
A pigeon lights on dirty sleeve

The eyes of blue, yesterday clear,
now dimmed by a skim of frost.
To any who once held him dear
the chance to reconcile is lost.

JUST A LITTLE LETTER TO YOU

JUST A LITTLE LETTER TO YOU.
M.Ann Waddicor. 1st February 2012.

Little letter, like a snowflake
tossed in the sky,
coming to rest on your doorstep.

Each snowflake a perfection all its own,
flown from the damp of winter skies,
frozen in flight to crystal shapes,
as cold as stone to hands of man.

Joining the mass of white wet glinting piles
on forest, field, and brook,
or on the paths frequented by yourself,
such silent stealth, and yet they make their sound.

Tracing the Forest Domicile (an old one)

Tracing the forest domicile
away from a shadowy civilization.
A dark toiling earth,
bereft nobility and worth,
amend self gratification.

Searing plains of adversity,
walls, ignorant, situate torn minds, once blissful.
Promise to appease,
a heavy avalanche of knees.
Thoughts in action turn choice deedful.

Yet still recede I to a cavernous mind,
meandering tunnels through questions too deep,
for beneath the surface, emptiness will seep.
Light shatters darkened forms to keep thee entwined.

Workshop: 

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