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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.

 

we do not write about

we do not write about
what we do not know
the so-called visionaries
in a frantic world
savoring chances taken
mourning lost opportunities
advancing with unmatched passion
a mere reflection of our double-life

we do not write about
what we do not know
but of the esoteric
world inside our heads
of displaced bullets
or the bothersome sometimes
bull-headed black holes in our souls

Mortality And Sanity

Our minds are powerfull
taking us to places
cold ,dark and damp

Where tendrils of evil
reach out
to claim
a life

At times,this life
not worth saving

Spiders thread
holds fast
binding all to
sanity and mortality

Dangling on
the precipice of
life's lies

Only to find
We are not immortal

on the road to what stands in the way

i.

as the thread continues
to weave itself
into a long-ago Jersey summer:

sometimes wild geese
lose their balance and land
ungracefully

we were young then
and the days ached
with laughter

ii

once
Buddha
lingered near the river
under a Bodhi tree,
it was then I picked up my
satchel of sorrow

my shadow
walked away

and the ground swallowed my tears...

iii.

I want to wrap you in poems
take you away from the door
you keep bringing me to

Face It

a face
your face
not just a physical structure
hard set by boney beams
but a response to life

self customizing
moment to moment

you are a drama queen
a quick change artist
in wide screen

"now showing"

a nuanced teleplay of you
read and reviewed easily
by even the new illiterate chic

no private pages
no blindfolded lines
no redacting masks
that aren't revealing
in and of themselves

Bad Girls

Bad girls, bad girls
Whatcha gonna do, gonna do today

Steal a van from a friend
Break a car window
Bad girls, bad girls
Whatcha gonna do, gonna do today

Sell your phone for some dough
Gas up the van and go
Wreck in a blinding storm
Trying to get home
Bad girls, bad girls
Whatcha gonna do, gonna do today

Run away from the clatter
Leave the van in the canal
Hitch hike a ride with a traveler
Get home in time for a party
Bad girls, bad girls
Whatcha gonna do, gonna do today

Politics of the Future World

Politics of future world

What will be your guises when you return,
can you take my mind to dance upon beaches.
Could you be masquerading at the lectern,
chasing sleeping morals beyond our reaches.

These questions I ask with candid voice,
equating your answers to be in part lying.
Loosing all command of fraternal feeling,
clinging to your words litigation simplifying.

What price the prancing prince,
who dances on the bones of better men.
Causing the proudest now to wince,
families to dream and all hope abandon.

Wordsmith

I fell in love
With silence
That lingers
No straight jacket
Restricts
This pen

My mind
A kettle filled
with boiled words
I wait for society
to stop stereotyping

I have not morphed
Into a lab rat
Of society
that judges blindly

I grew into
a wordsmith
that eases
anxiety filled
guts

Through ink
honesty breathes

MADAM ELSIE IS DEAD

Her wish to go to church eternal
Granted finally by pulmonary accident
Attack on battered heart sent shocks
Sugar level assisted a flushing flow
That which numbed the brain into a coma
Seven days in counting, breathing stopped
Madam Elsie, our mother, is dead

Bedridden by incapacitating illness
With days of worthy services behind
She wanted an end to her unhappiness
To stop the pains of a suffering flesh
Of lonely unproductive moments
And of the strains she put on her brood
Madam Elsie died to free them all

delete

EXHALE

behind the lush dark of blind
night breaths
sweet and capricious

there is a whisper of clouds
and the harsh pinprick of stars
glittering

softness gathers in the folds of
dreams this intricate
gate holding a gardens worth
of suffecient satisfactions

and patterns sleeping
in the secret grass

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