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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.

 

Icy Hot

simply maddening
is this thumping…
this stomping
grinding thunder
in my knees...
wearied as they
are too used

bottles and canned
pills promising
lack-lustre
aspirations and fancies
rich and brilliant.
this passenger seat
this cold blueness
this hole

a true blue-collar
ache

KNOWING GOD

I am unworthy to talk of faith
When it comes to religious feats
I know we can not all be wrong
God is who we say He is, though
I wonder who we say He really is
From whom He is, and who He is not
I look at the sacred places of adulation
To see holy empires and kingdoms
Unlike the glorious days of Olympians
Of gods pleading to be left alone
From the extractions of idolatry
That has gripped our belief systems
On the eternal journey of mankind
From what we think is pure and true

Edgar Allen Poe's - To The River...

Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow
Of crystal, wandering water,
Thou art an emblem of the glow
Of beauty -- the unhidden heart --
The playful maziness of art
In Old Alberto's daughter;

But when within thy wave she looks - -
Which glistens then, and trembles - -
Why then, the prettiest of brooks
Her worshipper resembles;
For in my heart,as in thy stream,
Her image deeply lies - -
The heart which trembles at the beam
Of her soul - searching eyes.

Geezer's Rewrite:

Workshop: 

DAY'S END--LAST UPDATE Nov. 23

DAY’S END

The minutes are heavy and long
and I begin to fall into those dark places
where there is no dreaming.

the wars go on.
and am losing to inevitability.
my spirit is beginning to break .
my walls are crashing down.

my soul if that is what I feel
kneels to disbelief.
my reason seeks the bliss of madness.
my heart clings to illusion

there is no peace.
I struggle to find a way
but the minutes are heavy and long
and nothing of me will be left
at the end of today

K o n s u m e d

tear wet and lust gleaming
hearts souls
collision course

crash into rooms
waiting
inscence filled
and candle fueled
the shower hot water
still running
like a midnight trail
Terazzio to carpeted lair

let me taste their thirst
the maiden pale flesh
and saturate the dark
reaching walls with
your yearning cries

Unhappy girl come to lay
your head upon me cry and
let this melancholic music
soothe unending why's

Lovers Tiff

Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie
Your demands will be the death of me
I’ve done my best now let me rest
You’ve drained my body physically
You’ve worn me out I’ve had enough
I can’t keep on performing
Lets take a break, relax, unwind
Continue in the morning

Okay, come on, let’s do it
We’ve had our little tiff
I’ve had myself a rest, and
Now I’m getting rather stiff
So get up to the bedroom
We’ll continue with this caper
But you can do the pasting, and
I will hang the paper

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place, and in the sky,
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead; short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Workshop: 

Music (by eddy styx)

Music

The beating of my heart
goose steps to thoughts
of last night
when the moon
was dark and new
my blood quickens
pulse throbbing
to the tune of
the lyrics I carved
on your pliant skin
starting below
your almost perfect breasts
my stiletto strokes
were accompanied
by your piercing screams
the composition
of your primal fear
and my lust
created the music
of the night

Hello: Tis Freedom

Are your holidaying out there,
In the loneliness of wilderness,
At peace with yourself
And
Comfortable with a lap top
If it be so, enjoy your hard earned freedom,
Which normal human beings get seldom
Then remember me,
Who am I?

The Little Stranger

Frail, delicate, beautifully tender
Steals into life a thornless flower.
Bereft, hopeless craves for a mother
Cursed, gets spleen, lifelong hunger

Heinous, uncaring nature to discover
Sprouting up into a paling colour
Precious dreams slowly melt into vapour
Bleak , sorely dying stalks wither

Soft fry, street old stager
lives and dies, utter stranger.

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