Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

Collector (dedicated to Ann of Norway)

No longer do ghosts haunt the graveyard stones
Their wraith-like bodies now sleep as their souls pass over
So who haunts these cities of the dead?
I am known by the dead, as The Collector

I wander the land where headstones lay
I walk slowly between them
Brushing my fingers ever so lightly across their granite tops
When I receive a sign, I stop

A Coin For My Pocket.

A coin for my pocket sir
for something to eat?
with no mum and dad
we beg on the street.
Not eaten for two days
my little sister and me.
A coin for my pocket sir
for a warm cup of tea?

A coin for my pocket miss
to get shoes for our feet?
We haven’t got a penny
or anywhere to sleep.
Our feet are really sore
without shoes they bleed.
A coin for my pocket miss
for something we need?

Callous Playtime

She hangs a little taut.
Day old dead,
Now her belly bloats.

Her tongue is limp and wet,
Her hair, alive in wisps of air;

A small mockery of her
Still rocking body.

Swing her to and fro,
And watch her lifeless
Limbs dangle like a doll.

Watch her swing, to and fro,
And have a drink of bread and blood.

When she's all drained,
We'll take her down,
And find us another toy.

Plump little cherubs eating ripe cherry tomatoes

Tom says "I am not just a slice of pizza, I am the whole pie."
And this is the way words are eaten
when everything is new under the sun.
And this is the way the earth manifests
beauty
unless there is
an imperfect reflection in the eye of the beholder
holding love hostage for another day.
And this is the way we set ourselves free to face a new dawn
that opens the gates of heaven and lifts the corners of a smile.

Lost again

I was travelling to Thursford, one day in the car
And I’d followed directions I’d got in the bar
We were on Caister road, was it left was it right
It was late, we were lost we were losing the light
We spotted a policeman and asked of him “pray,
Thursford my friend, can you tell me the way”
Well, he started to chuckle, he grinned then he laughed
Said “ you’ve listened to John, you’ve been pretty daft
It’s a good forty mile, you’ve had a bum steer
It’ll take you an hour, cos it’s nowhere near here”

Converting Blogs

One Too Many

I have composed countless poems
As you all know
Since I have no fixed mind ,
nor fixture of mind,
I am an unique entity...

No two poems of mine are alike,
as i believe in variety
Loved Style,
All my while .

I stand in no row or queue
of recognition ,
as I know twill never come,
when I am alive .

But then it will be too late
Posthumously
which they will.

Apocalypse - End of Days

Procreation a recreation of antiquity
micro populations confined by geographic boundaries,
spider webbing across the naked planet.

Verdant green sprouting, carpeting the stratum
Vegan life plan, wildlife annihilated ,
Adam’s Ale, liquid restrained.

Volcanic shudders, earth quakes threaten
Seismic clash, fissures appear
Imperceptible crash

Azure skies flood with ebony
Eruptions , oozing terror
Snuffing out life

End of Days
End of this world

To the World

One wants romance, another needs to fight,
those two want religion, and me;
I just want to fly
overhead and drop the bomb on you
packed in hemorrhaged wordings
revealing all our nasty little habits.

Breath of Memory

As tense as nearing end becomes,
life still sometimes breathes
a drift of dreams
upon my wondering soul,
my innocence long overcome
through focused lens of living,

yet rife with memories
still as sweet
as a girl's first doubtful kiss,
her touch in warming firelight,
drinking of her body with my own,
her heated breath upon my skin
still haunting
decades after death,

Holiday Message...

Resurrected again, from the nameless pit of Hell
A Killer reborn, new tales to tell
He's not gone away, just been lying low,
There's a feast coming, feel the Holiday glow!

Thanksgiving and Christmas, are almost here
There's recipes to polish, to bring Holiday cheer
His culinary skills need sharpening now,
and he's serving long-pig, not turkey or cow

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.