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.

 

Bottle Badness

snarl the tin lid
the fluid futility
burning down the throat
like the most sensual
burning fire
moat madness
on the choppy wake
You and your wary eyes
glitter
but you still love me
still hold my hands still
as you show me a letter
a book a ship in a bottle
to settle me
before I climb the walls
and sing to tyranny
or weep against a wall
for bitterness swept like
broken promises

cumulative shelter
we collect our thoughts
like watts
our needles dancing

Happiness

Happiness
Lays comatose
As she waits
To be saved

Bottle numbs the pain
For a couple
hours

mirror shows
reflections
Of a sad face

Words travel
a mind’s
Freeway
anguish seems
festive

Silence and doubt
Play card games
On the porch

Don’t look away
This torn man
Gave his all
To be
The crumpled page
In your journal

CRIPPLING LOVE

Your affection is not in doubt
I see it written all over your face
Of all the good people, you chose me
What can I say? But to thank you

In return I give the best I could
You led me into your troubled soul
The shaman sets to restore hope
And wiped away your silent tears

Since we met, nothing seems to work
People call you all sorts of names
And query everything you do and say
I see their points, but I gave a blind eye

following the sun
I am all bent out of shape
like patterns of light

refracting light shaped
into two more limbs bending
arcs into circles

drops of sky falling
into water, skipping stones
across the music.

Unholy Scream - Cliches Workshop Poem

An unholy scream punctures the silent landscape
pierces the gun metal grey,
against the cruel winter’s sky.

Darkest before the dawn
as agony abuses the air,
jerking in spasm.

Feathers wrenched from a muscular frame,
a pair of sleek Ravens wings , of vast dimension.
Armageddon’s warning.

Perversion and amorality his clarion call,
Innocence died.
On this ashen night.

Banished from heaven,
discarded upon the sodden earth.
Abandoned since birth.

Cliché (Clichés Workshop Poem)

I've changed
And I can't find my way
Back to the person I used to be

I have fallen out of love with you
What more can I say
I know it's a cliché
But it really isn't you
It's me

I'm lost
And I can't find the path
Back to the life I used to have

(chorus)
My head is confused and I no longer see you
You are just a blurred image lost in the hue
I've drifted away and severed our line
I no longer need you
I no longer want you as mine

MY SUGAR DADDY

I was on my way to school
My father’s friend drove by
Stopped his car, opened the door
And gave me a lift to the school gate
He smiled at me, I beamed back
Encouragingly, gave me a bundle
Money for my pocket and needs

This man is not that handsome to me
His big belly, baggy trousers
And a big bulge on the neck
Makes him resemble Orangutan
From some jungle in a far away land
And married to my mammy’s friend
Ask me, what makes me want it with him

Tentative Dreaming

burn it red like a sunset bled on paler skies

burn it orange like a metaphor, a flame in my pocket

no saving grace of snuff out,
this pyre will burn for ages.

burn it yellow like the eyes of a nocturnal predator

burn it blue like the broken hearts, the tears, the empty years

this ragged intake of oxygen
fuels the fire, higher, higher.

A Middle Class Eulogy

we the people
are not represented
by conservative or liberal
Democratic, tea-Party Republican or Libertarian agenda
it is not American as apple
pie to drive a wedge between
rich and poor, killing the middle class
by the ruling class,

fat wallets anonymous
contribute to campaign strategy
and borderline poverty

American TV is bought and sold
and then there's the devil to pay
as long as corporate greed is
aided and abetted by the dualistic party's
conservative mantra:

on the subject of roses

does it hurt to be
a thorn
on the rose?

I do not know such
things,

sometimes the
sting of words
rains tears in my eyes
and my lips start to bleed...

sun drenched veins on the leaf
surge through apple-buttered skies

words fall to the wayside,

roads we have yet to travel
to roses we have yet to touch.

Pages

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