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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.

 

Vacantality

Hollow are my vacant, sullen eyes
the dreams I once possessed faded away,
my mind has lost it's train of thought completely
while the ache within my heart grows everyday.

How sad it is that friendship's lost it's luster
and stark reality can slap you in your face,
I try to bend but find my body breaking
hindering my efforts to keep pace.

I falter from my footing and my balance
my buddy "pain" has taken quite a toll,
age has help define my limitations
and that sour taste is etched upon my soul.

WINTER'S SONG

Just beyond the end of autumn
I hear the winter's call
and he arrives to slay the leaves
which, stubborn, clung through fall.

The land once green and full of life
has now grown cold and sere
and harvest's colors once so rife
no longer are seen here.

As white and silver coat descends
to cover silent land
the air once cool, turns frigid, clear
and quietens all at hand.

Workshop: 

D I S H E V E L L M E N T S O F H O A R D E R

by rail divide me
plump in sections
that cool the passion
of taste
You succulent of poison
borne like hawkes
the prince theives
sabre

love is wicked
sear my flesh
where you shall
take leave your sworn
blood tears

calf skin gloves
silk serpent moult
on tenderling touch

this river black
wants you back
beneath the heady
sphere where
fortune tells
its ways

let me worry the
dark deed that grows
within

 

A Terza Rima

I met/ a man/ who just/ the o/ther day
declared/ he wrote/ his po/etry/ for me.
“But we/ have on/ly met…”/ I tried/ to say.

He si/lenced me/ and said/ he did/ agree,
yet still/ each poem/ he writes/ is sure/ly mine.
I asked/ him to/ explain/ that I/ might see.

Workshop: 

I can not out run ghost living in empty space

Ghost which haunt night and day recurring every day

Dancing dreams of misdeeds live inside tortured me

Wondering when will I be let free finding peace

Eternal burning flame that won’t be ever quenched

Workshop: 

Hands in pockets...

Hands in pockets….

What of this state that we call death,
this coming of time you and I must
face it’s clear. We watch as others
young and old perish but could be
saved, my shame outweighs my fear
Why can’t we have a blind eye or turn
the other cheek, say, it’s only another
drought driven starving, no need for
us to speak.

Where are their leaders we cry slinking
away to the back of the crowd, it’s their
responsibility, we’ve done enough, and
my new X box is playing up for crying
out loud.

SEARCHING FOR BEAUTY

There's too much ugliness by far
in this day's society
murder by knife and gun or car
love and life spent recklessly

Drugs and corruption fill headlines
treason, rape, incest and worse
seeming to spread like kudzu vines
an infection with no cure

One must read far in the news
before there's any better views
yet even in the sporting pages
scandal sells the ink and paper

the Goddess meme

The morning wraps itself around you
with the terror of your skin,
your hands forgetting the way they
felt when you touched her in your dream,
you are humble in your agony and deeply
surrendered, for you have touched her
in your walking-away life, walking away like
the sky in nightfall.

Toys? (3rd stage meter workshop) styx

Toys?

I want to wind you up
Watch you gyrate and twirl
Lose myself in your spinning
(half spider/half demon girl)
When your momentum
Slows enough to trip you
I'll savor the flavor of cadmium...
I want to strip you
D
O
W
N
Listen to your clockwork heart
...dying...
Slowly in time
Replace your batteries...
So we can begin
Again
And again...

More Meter Ex. 1 Trochaic Pentameter

x = stressed o= unstressed

I

Jeffery Dahmer killed his neighbour: flushed him (down the drain)
Ed Gein ate his mother (and) played in (her) dirty dresses
While Son of Sam with gun in hand was killing golden (retrievers)
Fisher went and ate some children: buried them in (the) barn

xo xo x o xo: x o (o o x)
x o x o xo (o) x o (o) xo xo
xo x o x o x o x o xo xo (oxx)
xo x o x o xo: xo x o (o) x

II

Workshop: 

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