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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.

 

Poetry Is a God Gifted Art

I commenced composing poems,
As early as eight years
When my first poem

The Truant,

Composed in a class,
Was taken away by my Principal

It was about an incident,
When schools kids went a riot....

I don't remember what I wrote
But ever since I have composed
Poetry of my own
And
as you must have noticed
No two poems of mine are alike,
They neither rhyme nor chime
But so many friends,
I can now claim as mine.

This too is hardly a piece
Yet I know you may like it.

PAST THE GARDEN GATE--updated

PAST THE GARDEN GATE

pappa called me from L.A.
one day late July
it was 3A.M. pacific time
it was 4 A.M. when he died

mamma passed one winter day
I was by her side
she kissed my hand
to say good-bye

my mind cannot understand
beyond what it can measure
time has stolen the years
and I count my moments in memory and tears

I want to go home again
past the garden gate
through the side door
and hold someone I loved
once more.

Crazy Me

 

There isn’t much going on tonight

that I find joyous in life

complexity surrounds my every thought

blocking my paths to problems resolve

 

There’s no fun in striving for success

when believing in fairness is dumb

never demonstrating justice  

with all the faith in the world uttered

 

I got a lot of work to do

here at Neopoet and school

I’m about to flip my lid releasing hot steam

trying to get A’s in these fall lessons

 

But then, it’s always that way

DUALITY

In the progress of our works
We see the hands that create
Building structures for our use
Imagine the Sole creating force
That made all with you and me

As we wonder in awe
From grief of unwanted losses
Imagine phantom hues of decay
The might of destroying waves
That takes unwarily from us

These hands are right and left
Connected to one and the same
The twins we wrongly interpret
Be it birth or death combined
In rebirth, according to the law

Winding up

Oh! How can I forget your face
The tenderness, of your embrace
Your precious smile, that gentle kiss
These things, I know, I’ll always miss

The way you’d squeeze and hold me tight
While making love all through the night
And how you’d talk the whole day long
Or sing some sad old country song

The times we had, and we had some
But sadly now the time has come
Two people left with broken hearts
Because you can’t control your farts

D I S S A R A Y

route wend
when night bends
churlish pleasure
the dark sin treasure

come to be bruise balmed
and bedecked with calm
your scars your wounds
the flesh stiched tracer
your night shawled look

you had me at "Babe"
this soothing full drawl
and how you take me
out from the beautiful
carnage
this haunted ruin
inhabitation
calibrated with pains
and painted with
tears

this tumultous
dissaray

Christmas Is Here.

Decorations are in shop windows
yuletide music is all we can hear.
Pretty lights shine in the town centre
making it feel like Christmas is here.

Plans are made for friends to meet
to celebrate with food and beer.
Neighbours are putting up trees
making it feel like Christmas is here.

Soldiers have come home on leave
kissing loved ones, shedding a tear.
People travel to be with families
making it feel like Christmas is here.

Canary In The Mine

The lies are dressed
In little pinks tutus.

The scorn is ready
For the masquerade.

The canary in the mine
Turns out to be
A hummingbird.

The butterfly in my tummy,
A bee.

The laugh really is
A stiffled moan;
The tear is shed for sorrow.
The sun is gone because the night
Will breed a bleaker tomorrow

Canary In The Mine

The lies are dressed
In little pinks tutus.

The scorn is ready
For the masquerade.

The canary in the mine
Turns out to be
A hummingbird.

The butterfly in my tummy,
A bee.

The laugh really is
A stiffled moan;
The tear is shed for sorrow.
The sun is gone because the night
Will breed a bleaker tomorrow

this side of the music

Sirens.
Night and day. Day and night,
interrupting the silence with its severe music.
It's the city and we share the same space. C-town
never sleeps in its emergent paths; what makes
news, to whom and who cares enough to go along
for the ride.

The world, my friend, is a long-distance runner, running until
there's no more time. Don't we hold on to each second like
unwilling warriors, consoling the hours?

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