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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.

 

Zulu Dawn

When you first hear those fateful words
It hits you like a thunderbolt
Although totally expected
The blood still drains from your face
You sit, disbelieving, shocked, numb
Not quite able to take it in
You ask the usual questions
How long have I got, will it hurt
Is there nothing that can be done
But you know, way down, deep inside
This is it, the end is in sight
The day you dreaded is finally here
That rock and roll lifestyle of old
Has come back to bite your backside
So you ask the only question

look me in the eye

i guess
i'm never gonna sleep tonight
never gonna get it right
lost me in the sound of my only escape

and the
bass is getting louder
treble take me higher
singing myself wings maybe i'll fly away

(chorus)
and i'd beg
for someone to follow
would my life get any easier?
no i'll never be like her
but how?
they said just talk it out
how do you expect our ways to change
when he can't even look at me

FOREVER AND A DAY

This is how long an old man feels,
This is how long he awaits your smile.
Each moment locked away
In some distant and perished file.
Cold mornings creep,
Break of dawns crisp and slick
Finding me cold in bed
I wonder if one moment can
Extend my sleep.

Forever and a day fallen,
Ghosts visit
Family plagues,
Dreams allow,
Sorrow lives,
In solitude I confine.
Live and breathe
Heartbroken I scream
Ancient arisen
Seeking a paper heart,
A heart he simply chooses not to forget.

Anger Loosed (eddy styx)

Anger Loosed

open a vein
miss the artery
too much anger
for precise accuracy
too much rage
to be confined
to a single page
hatred in red
overpowers the sight
enrages the decision
clouds the vision
purple frustration
inflames the soul
hands around your neck
taking control
I find you in contempt
your crime is your arrogance
spilling acrimony
into my sea of calming latitudes

Thanks for your maiden read…. it’s an honour

Thanks for your maiden read…. it’s an honour
Do read some more
And
You will come to know,
How poetry does flow,
Like a river it twists and turns,
It never ever returns
And
In the garbage bin of time,
Mostly all place poetry of mine.
How to refine,
Not many define,
But the ego in me thinks,
I am bloody fine,
The nectar which oozes
From the divine
Such is poetry of mine.
Narcissist me

tulip

On the way to the beheading, I fell off the wagon
and disappeared into the angry throng.
Well, there you are, the plight of a poet
in one sentence if not another.

But poetry will never leave me alone for long,
the temptation is always here--
in my waking
fingertips, for I have been accused of sleeping too long.

For Geremia

A Terza Rima

I met a man who just the other day
declared he wrote his poetry for me.
“But we have only met…” I tried to say.

He silenced me and said he did agree,
yet still each poem he writes is surely mine.
I asked him to explain that I might see.

He then quote poesy laudable and fine,
so listened I and watched his old eyes tear
while failing hide the shiver in my spine.

“Now, tell me if you will and say it clear,”
The poet challenged me, though gently spoke.
“that you own not what I compelled you hear.”

WHO ARE WE REALLY

Rain falls today,
In me this day it has struck.
I feel it dance, I feel it’s will as if it’s alive.
I know this day it falls for me.
I’m awakened, somewhat aroused,
The wind whispers to me, I listen.
In solitude I, confess.
Lost for words only the utter of reminisce.

Jazzmin

frail as a vase
your words like a veil
are translucent touchs
bleeding through me
mists on the dream tiles
the heartbeat
black mould grout
ideals

embrace me
and I feel loved
like the hot needle
streaking ink
the wings black
that pain exquisite
and beautiful
like the sky run with
torn clouds

mystic air about the
ghosts of our history
our unbecoming
stitched and torn
with wounded pride

Booze Hound - a Cautionery Tale

I’ll tell you a story kiddies
take heed and no mistake,
don’t follow the path that I chose.
Let old Booze Hound show the route to take.

Oh you’ll shag, have a ball and carouze my friend
to that there is no doubt.
But the golden days of youth
and indiscretion are all to brief .
Hooch will cast it’s wicked spell
and the evil spiral will take down to Hell.

The nectar that promised freedom
will some how become your captor.
The boundless arrogance of
your tender years,
will soon fizzle out.

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