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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.

 

Spinning Top Peace

spinning top peace..

I had a spinning top once
believing it would spin forever

But as hard as I pushed
it always
stopped

so soon it never span again
as a child

I couldn’t understand
now I do

at last, peace

HUSH

awake the fear
scratching at the door
that thin sliver hall
light
the dusted carpet tired

outside the night is restless
an airport beacon turns
and runs its white tongue
upon the clouds

and the hydro transformer sizzles
in the damp mists falling

I can feel my soul
sitting in the chair
watching me as I toss
and I know the mirror
will play another role

the open mouth of the drain
will taunt me with its darling
sigh

smiles & hugs (are still free )

In a world of worth,
all measured and tagged,
all judged and weighed,
all packaged and bagged,

all sorted and valued,
all you taste, touch, feel, see,
it's a wonder that smiles
and hugs are still free!

In a world of war
all battered and sore,
all frightened and bitter,
and asking for more,

crowded and lonely,
all riddled with guilt,
on the bones of our victims
our lives have been built.

Never Good Enough

used to see in black and white
now i see red
no one remembers
anything i said
and the rain is falling harder on my head
lucky right now i don't mind getting wet

wish i could say
in time it will be better
it's getting to where now
it's now or never
if only i could see her number on the phone
i'd understand if you said come back, come home
(chorus)
tell me i'm not good enough to have you
i'll take my heart and break it in two

Ghetto Ride...

What drives my battered auto
down the highway, straight to hell
is an engine fueled with regular hope
that everything goes well

The gas gauge doesn't work
I'm riding with low brakes
Searching for reverse
the steering-wheel... It shakes

This car is possessed by demons
I am almost sure
No mechanic's gonna fix it
for worn out, there is no cure

It reeks of body odors
there's coffee-cups and trash
Seats are ripped, the windows dirty
hood is crumpled from a crash

waiting at the Pieta

There are doors in the antechamber.
There is the always-choice to walk through any
one of them.
There are signs above the doors, a
warning to the effectiveness of being
affected.
But if it isn't known now, it will be known
sooner than later--if any door is opened,
even a little, little enough will be enough
because
nothing
will ever be the same.

Booze Hound - Aged old Crone

You're a bitch babe
Sucking me dry
Believe me honey not in good way.
bitter regret and bile seeps from your  pores.

When we first met you were a vibrant
Temptress a dusky beauty,
Now your are miserable old hag
Humourless and aged 
 Has old Booze Hound really been that bad?

Now this pretty little ditty is over
I turn over in bed and you have gone
I miss you and your dulcet tones
You old crone 

Shallow Depths of Me

There is this rage that dwells inside of me,
clawing me, stabbing me, threatening to
rip me open and make me bleed my red anger out.
I try so hard to fight it and I work so hard to
deny it, but too often it rears its monster
head and makes my tongue lash out.
I strike with poisonous words and cut with
razor lips, spilling tears and breaking trust.
I didn’t realize being nice would be this tough.

INDIGNANT JUDGMENT

The glamour for change
The face of uncertainty
The search for a messiah
Warranted by our sorry state
Tilted will of people in battle
With self-proclaimed patriots
Craving for glory and power
Phantom bubbles of leadership

First African American
Our erstwhile Goodluck
The people began to wonder
Insecurity and job lost
Loosing homes
Leading to occupy cities
Questions are many
Answers are few

mermaid ghost

falling
ideals
in their beauty

poetry sliding
across the mind
like damp snowflakes
on wet eyelids

cast yourself
on your city shadows
your black temple doorways
the lilting sway

hold my arm
and in your room
you bathe in lights
that speak
and wander
in hurt visions
everylasting

hunger for little
and regard more

how you love the
gaunt saints you
follow in soup kitchen
gathering

your glass repository
resins musks
and ointments

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