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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.

 

Hidden Lies

Love once shattered my soul
painful dreams shadowed me
from all harm, scars settled
deep inside.

Time slips by
memories of who she was
scatter as the breeze bellows
through the trees.

Tender thoughts flee endlessly
intensity floods with every beat
mummers trigger misfire
frozen alibis melt the truth away.

Time slips by
ecstasy dissipates from
hidden lies.
Reflections of inner heart.

~as lovers do

we stayed miles north of ordinary
on the far side of awakening
and stole away Saturdays with
half-broke horses and ravens in winter white

the scent of us still lingers there
in wildflowers

I visit mountain sorrow with endlessly empty arms
melt beautiful from the silence of snow
let moonlight memories weep 'til dawn

waiting for you

to kiss the eyelids of my mourning sleep
so I can find you again
and fold you inside my poetry

Frosted Pale

Sarah, from next door
came by today
unannounced

whining in two languages now
expecting a rosetta stone
to translate her life into a fairy tale

neighbors, all around
a fact for pack people
how do I, a loner, oblige

a single rebuff
and instantaneous war
enemies du jour
extremist of the hurt feeling

so, I insist she sit
hoping a sullen mood
will restrain her from engaging in
chittering histrionics
trying to make a story
but....

mindwalk

i was a scientist once
sought an organizing system
and called it evolution
my approach is hard-wired
into my brain,
terrified of my own
conclusions

all things shall pass away,
my holy creed

i gave birth twice and my children
were small birds i hand fed with
love

there are sides to a box, equations
to solidify
and the mirror of recognition will always
draw the hand
writing on the wall

A PLEA TO FREE THE LAND

Building and structures sprang
Like plants on the fertile soil
In the land of the Great mighty
By-pass bridges provide shortcuts
To where we drill deep for oil
Sidesteps, our ancestors knew not
Yet there was peace and plenty to eat

Billboards, posters, jingles and songs
Declare the benefactor, a worthy go-getter
But behind the swanky smiles on faces
The hearts hid the fear of monstrous beasts
Prowling the land, kidnapping and killing
The atmosphere tense amidst fanfare
True sons of the soil scared to go home

An Alien from My Mother’s Womb

I live in a world unlike the norm
Running alongside the usual
The wild and crazy having fun
I’m subdued watching on

I wonder what folks think
Behind bright eyes
Am I the crazy one?
An alien from my mother’s womb

I find it thrilling to run with the horde
Though my course is contrary to the crowd
Like an alien from my mother’s womb
I hide away from the custom

THOUGHTS ON A ROCK

High on a Blue Ridge mountain side
with naught but skid trail for my guide
which must have been ,itself; quite old
as trees now stood there tall and bold

Matters not the time of year
but, in fact, winter was drawing near
with most leaves reclined upon the ground
where wind lent them a rustling sound

Then a stone of middling size
caught my gaze to my surprise
there among the leaves and duff
it, at first, looked bland and plain enough

can you hear me cry

can you hear me, Lord
when i cry
sometimes, i feel like
i could die
my cross is heavy
my path dark
the wounds i carry
leave their mark

can you hear me, Lord
when i cry
i am not hard yet
by and by
i wonder if you
hear me, Lord
sometimes i do
cry to you

my sins with Bukowski

you ramble with his poetry
book after book
but you are not a rose,
you are not a thorn
neither virgin, nor the whore
of his better days
under neon lights
and the sweat of inspiration

crying with Orbison and Lang
the touch that caressed
you deep
in the psyche of
your human jungle

you its prey,

and you build another empire
in the dust of your involution,
exhaling the animal instinct of a poem
you are its flame, but never quite
catch on fire

THREE FACES OF ADORATION

This land rooted in many aboriginal religions
Long before aliens came competing for devotees
Several aficionados hold onto their ways of life
At night, seek fortification from ancient deities
Then show up for supplication on sanctified days
Set aside by the invading majority, these fogies
Influenced our conducts, three faces of adoration

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