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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.

 

Humor in Writing Workshop 2- Vampire

There was a vamp who did bite
All the ladies took fright
His speed was such
He didn’t move too much
But fell on a spike from a height

I've never been oppressed by a rose

I have never been oppressed by a rose
nor feared its thorn...

In your garden my Beloved,
I am but a thought
returning,
a waft of pleasure in your embrace

if you
should fall for the third time,
let the violet crushed
speak no riddles
to a wayward sun,

place an armful of black-eyed susans
in abstraction,
circle its motion
but do not lament the lemon tree,
my Love--
fill the pond with summer lilies,
deep and yellow

I Missed Them All Today

I missed my wife today
while she had to be away.
Realised how lonely I’d be
if she wasn’t here with me.

Without her love and smile
life wouldn’t be worthwhile
I missed my wife today.

I missed my children today
seeing them happily at play.
Sunny days and ice creams
bedtime stories before dreams.

They’ve grown and moved on
now my little ones are gone.
I missed my children today.

The Skin We're In

skin,
the feel of it,
entering the lost domain
of sensation
skin,
the peeling away
of all that would stand in its way
to be empty of plots and twists
skin,
the magic of touch
and being touched
to enter a ritual
unto itself as old as
creation as new as desire
basking like an otter
under the sun,
skin,
how it soothes the caged
heart, fires the breath
and rocks the ages,
breaks up monotony
and serves the pleasure
of kings and queens,

Sorceress Co-write with Cat

Sorceress, daughter of darkness,
pagan enchantress goddess of doom.
creatures of the midnight take flight
through the Necropolis.

Abandoning Pagan roots
for darker Satanic stirrings
she blends into her cauldron
Hemlock, spiders and bats blood

she draws a circle
with sacred rod in her hand
drawing symbols and sigils
of magical design

Untitled Musings

If the day
contemplated a year
then,
I have lived lifetimes
in an hour.

if a moment
could have moulded me,
it was this one

when our atoms danced
at first contact,
the static rubbed
at uncomfortable,
I felt the sting that said
‘stand sharp’

I watched the blue
of your eyes
cloud with a storm,
your fingers twitched

as I unfolded my wings,
burnt, torn and scarred,
you raised your hands
and with the balm of your palms

CLASH OF ID

Our land, pitched
Between two extremes
Manifest multiplicities of woes
From abject poverty and squalor
A far divide from the few rich
To politics and religion
Forbid I mention names
Lest wanton violence
Destruction of lives
Threaten our existence
Eroded middle class
Clash of identities
Suffer terrible losses
In class and culture
A nation tossed about
Like water in a canoe

Humor in writing workshop- first attempt - Booze Hound

There is an old lush named Booze Hound
When attempting to walk hits the ground
Then pukes and he burps
He goes through the works
causing havoc all the way round 

All Alone...

Upon a barren shore he sits
Longing to be free
From there he sees little bits
Transparent to you and me

A lonely howl of frustration
Is all he has to give
Why, in all of "tarnation"
Won't they let him live?

Time and space mean everything
Never get close enough
Not as close as spaghetti-string
Goshdog, It sure is rough!

There is a land, a paradise of love
He smells it, and howls long notes
If there are Goshdogs up above
He'd have her silken little coat

First Love

 

First Love

 

Just a dream, just a dream

That’ll never, never be

A love lasting more than thirty years

To a man that’s taken

 

A man true and faithful

To a love from his youth

A girl who happens not to be me?

As we lost touch some time ago

 

Some wait a lifetime

Not ever thinking of second chances, but

First love sometimes returns to some

With memories etched in hearts of both

 

The proverbial rocking chair

Sundry portraits of experiences

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