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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.

 

love's Passionate Voices

Passion is the tides
Surge, ebb and flow
The roar of an approaching storm
Fires of hell burning
Bright

A lion’s hunger
When on the prowl
To the ocean’s depth
It is felt

Lust never fulfilled

Love is a comfort zone
An unconditional giving
Where no boundary lines are drawn
A knowing without a whisper
A reading of the signs

Love always fulfilled

Passion without love
Is empty
Love lacking passion
Leaves a void

Why can they not co exist
In one

what if i wanted to write poetry
and offered alms to the poet?

give me a few words or give me
poetic death,
stasis is not a state of mind
nor the gist of things
like stingers on a scorpion
shaken from swaggering boots
in the morning,
or a bumble bee,
neither too
too yellow or too black
to carry its full weight,

BRIDGES

I go now to repair a bridge.
It serves the road which runs the ridge.
Just a few boards need replacing
on the floor and in the bracing.

I'll do it while the branch is shallow,
now when the far side field is fallow.
My old truck will take me there.
I won't get stuck if I take care.

The land is rugged on this side,
on the other, flat and wide
where crops grow in deep dark soil
which makes this bridge worth all the toil.

Monroe Street Cemetery

the west side of the gatehouse crumbled
and fell,

(did anyone hear it?)

now eight or nine planks of board hold it in place
and the stately entrance
is closed and cordoned off,
I'm the new kid on the block and
while we were picking artifacts such as names
and dates,
toppled headstones and sunken graves
spoke to me asked me
who they were,
did I think these
progenitors of
wealth, these boat people of
Europe
live a good life?

THE FLAME

On the tripod
A candle burns
In symbolic marriage
Of wax and wick
The flame is the baby
A spark of the essence
Known to the ancient
So the vestals tended
To preserve the light
Constance was the glow

The flame, a hidden trinity
The child’s earthly sojourn
Of consciousness in nuptials
Of soul and spirit body
Dancing in the wind
Liquefied wax smoulders
Rising amber with blue base
Wrapped around the wick
Revealing, life enfolding
In the flare of spirit being

PROMIZT

you said you were coming back
after the day of odds at the track
and the slate green dodge

every time I hear the weather girl
when she says
"there's a promise of rain"

seventy per cent

a nice even count
I think about you

they say even a dog has its day
with this humidty it may rain cats

thirty per cent says it might not
might not rain
might just be a promiz

GRATEST SHOW ON EARTH

Watch the clowns as they all gambol
skipping, tripping, falling down
cartwheeling without preamble
it's the greatest show in town

The ringleader riding wild asses
elephant trainers strive for control
all seen by fools in rosy glasses
in the marble tent upon the knoll

Let's cheer at the circus show
we'll all stand to make more room
while the three rings down below
distract us from our country's doom

* response to the so called leaders in Congress

the moon and i

if you don't know the difference
between balmy and embalming then you're
probably not a poet
and you've joined the zombie parade
parroting words like definitions,
you're no pirate but you have a peg heart
and your hair is uncombed
your whiskers stiff with fish and eggs

i've loved you long enough, this i know

Rippers...

Styx

The clock strikes midnight, the witching hour
Not three a.m. my usual time of power
On the prowl, before Killer and H. Stranger
Too late the victim knows... she is in danger
Shouldn't stroll deserted grounds at night
My blade sings the tune of her plight
Flashing silver in the moonlight cast
Terror filled eyes, life speeding past
Too soon she dies, from the slice of her throat
No time for pride... or to gloat
Victim number one out of the way
Off in search of number two, to end my play

Killer

IN A HAZE COLORLESS PALE--second revision

In a Haze Colorless Pale

The sun late afternoon
crossed the darkened room
in a haze colorless pale
dust danced in slow motion
in streams of light though the air
suffocating movements of silence

the sun began to fade
and I felt the lonliness weigh heavy
in the dim of twilight

the noise was gone
and silence spoke its mourning
as day fled into dark
like a shrouded veil
and I began to sink
into madness

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