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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.

 

Glazing Over (rhyme shop)

When I awoke this morning
the glaze was conquering me,
strong dark and all consuming,
inflicting its criminal, nasty deed.

I tried to shake it off,
tried to milk my life for more,
but the ho-hum shit of every day
has allowed the misted shore.

Before long I succumb,
left to wonder why I've tried,
maybe I'm going through the motions
simply because I haven't died.

Trained to the haze
and openly its whore,
gray skies, clouded eyes,
bending to this world.

Man eating chicken

I once saw a man eating chicken
It was truly a hideous sight
It wasn’t quite what I expected
As I walked down the street late at night

I watched as the victim lay helpless
I stood in the lamplight alone
Rooted with fear by the sounds I could hear
While the flesh was ripped off of the bone

I took in the view there before me
Appalled by the thing’s I could see
As the huge hulking beast continued to feast
I feared the next victim was me

Muse

Wrapped up in tendencies
a poet undressed
refers to herself
as a malcontent,
her inclinations and aspirations
are ordinary as a bitch in heat,
still she finds an altered ego
and nails it to the floor

like a pink-nosed puppy.
she follows them around,
taking notes for later transcription
she makes a mockery of things
that circle about like vultures
of the non-discreet.

In the Solace of Prayer

a symphony of prayer
touches my mind
and in the peace
of whispered words
I soothe my heart

some are imprinted
without thought
as filigreed light
warms my soul,
they slip out
as an adoration
sung from the heart

in these moments
of reverence and love
where no pain can burn
or malice survive

I come as close to heaven
as I can bear to be

Rain of Songs

Rain Of songs..

What force is this that carries a
heart’s intentions into uncertain moments?
could a lover’s attention ever waver afore
a persons unkind comments?. I say in this
state the heart does not stutter but surges
forth scattering all such thoughts of speech
amid the clutter for on this journey there
is a rain of songs and the true heart can
be lifted by notes to heights,
where it belongs..

the first misogynist

There's an odd familiarity in
recognizing one's own shadow,
not that pundits, patriarchs
and protagonists select one photon
of evidence over the other. A woman
in a burka, no matter its colour, usually
doesn't consider herself exploited,
dominated or persecuted though she may
be hotter than hell.

Have you ever heard the night desert
in the silence of its dunes, the figs and
the pomegranates whispering like old friends?

Five Fingers – Charity of the Thumb

All fingers not equal
So are their functions
Like spaces we occupy
In the scheme of things
Surpluses spill at on end
Complete lack at the other
The hand that gives always
Not the same that receives
Blessed, the prayer goes
For the cheerful benefactor
In such humanity evolves
A law for the charitable
Not obligatory or forced
Without any gain in mind
For it to pass the tartlet test

Having it off

My name is Arabella
And I’m really such a girly
I like to wear nice dresses
And my hair is blonde and curly

With underwear by Reger
And Prada on my feet
Made up to perfection
I give all the men a treat

My perfect breasts the envy
Of the women that I see
They look me up and down
And how, they wish that they were me

I’m very nearly faultless
And quite soon with any luck
I’ll have the money saved
So I can have the nip and tuck

Mission Alley

On an overgrown path
along a road less travelled
hid the bearer of small eyes
peeking out into the light

huddled

a flicker of memory
casts a mantle over her eyes
the touch of a loving hand
her only dream or desire

terrified

she runs into the shadows
as fight or flight whispers
and paranoia kicks in
all in keeping her safe

trembling

I want to save them
all the children of the night
I want to show them love
and compassion and family

hope

Red-haired and long-legged (Slut Walk, 2011)

ccBuk pulls himself out of retirement,
I resurrect him for this poem
merely triumphantly
he lives here
occasionally;
there is a bluebird officiating
collecting
pages of recollections
offering truth in unmeasured doses,
pulling puppet strings
and nine wild horses

she was no school marm, or perhaps she is,
hiking her skirt up past her ankles,
suffragette ghosts
walking in the slut walk on Wall Street,
naked from the waist up, inside
your head

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