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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.

 

The leader

Strong words from a broken man.
believe my words and follow these callused hands.
Stand behind me and I will shield you from evil.
This is our ending to create, like a blank canvas on an easel.

SMELLING SASSAFRAS (another attempt at poetic prose)

Straight from work the other evening,
I went to decompress
in a patch of summer woods
along a dim game trail I knew.

Upon exiting my old truck,
rapidly down the path I struck
so fast the world passed in a blur
as feet moved at an urban pace.
Way too fast
to see
anything.

But going up hill I soon slowed
as old legs quickly faded.
This slowed down the passing land.
Revealing how the late sun played
upon the duff through swaying limbs
which whispered "juusssst beee....."

SOLUSHUN

feel your tundra eyes as I bury my world
of thoughts against the undulation of
falling dusk
like crushed pumice the clouds dance
their slow menace the glowing ache
of nightfall sighing in the green copper
of the terminal wire

sipping gently your drink with its
bright jewels of perspiration
ice glitters and strawberries
are lipstick red

Iredescent

deviously iridescent
painfully unblemished.
I deplorably repent
all that I’ve relished
dazed in confusion,
lost in disguise
cleansed in ablution, yet,
dead from inside.
awaiting circulation
of all I’ve tried to hide
the image in the mirror
blurry and distraught
overhauled with feelings
that I have long fought
I see, I pray, I wonder
if this is really me
or a mendacious fraud
as I fight to overcome
all that you applaud

Self-employed Overtime

In a sea of mediocrity
there are exceptions on this earth,

where integrity, and personal values
show a legacy that has worth.

A struggling, single mother
continually does her best,

completing what's in front of her
like taking some weird test.

Wearing hats a plenty
She attempts to complete tasks,

from her pedestrian existence
before her boss has time to ask.

Being a minority
helped land her at this job,

neither does she sing for joy
nor have private time to sob.

THE FEAR IN MY HEAD

Silence,
As loud as the roaring sea
Echo’s in my head
Seeing the darkness
With no discernible features

Fear,
Creeping quietly
And filling all the empty space
Nerve ends tinkling
Wonder when will I be dead

Thoughts,
Master or slave
Of a mind filled with dread
A knocking at the door,
Is it death?

Sounds,
Creating pictures
Of things which are not
Really there.
Covers pulled tight for safety

The Undead Dream Of Magnificent Things

If you kill the dead
they'll follow you home
no matter how large the moon
or small the fingertip.

Crop circles don't mean any thing
to the insect, regardless how intricate
the sign, I exist in God's delusion
and write poems about human petulance
in defiance of all the evidence that no one exists
but my choiceless thoughts,
I am dying into a Grand Canyon of words, what shade of India ink
shall I use to draw outside my lines
when I am breathless with awe and hopeless in the void?

OZEGE IS DEAD

Things are bad at home
Our mother
Nwa-Ozege Okoro died
Raphael Okpe please
Try your best to return.
Our mother
Nwa-Ozege Okoro is dead.

I am thinking of my life
To eat is hard for me
Matthias Okpe refused me food
Francis Okpe moved to the farm
Ifeoma, his wife helped sometime
To eat is hard for me.
Our mother
Nwa-Ozege Okoro is dead

You My Dears

You My Dears

You are poetic dear
I have to scientifically endear,
I do hope you all do hear

Albeit

I’d like to from you all individually hear...
The burst,
The tear,
The clouds,
the crowds
The thunder
the clap,
All are
and
shall be enlightened by poetry
Which undoubtedly you do bear
And
I dare say
I can ever at all compare...

ART'S FAILINGS

I would sketch you with a stylus
your graceful curving lines
running through a new mowed field
bordered by blooming multiflora vines

Or maybe I should sculpt your form
in some type of classic pose
carved in clay or wood or stone
with the merest hint of clothes

Perhaps a water color painting
in impressionistic style
all pastel with blended edges
to best capture that fleeting smile

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