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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.

 

another poet is born

I dreamed of
poems
and you
whispering
secrets of the night
eons
of stars stretched over
us like blankets
of ebon light

jealous of lovers
and lovers of poets
we ruled heaven
like gods awakening
into skin,

eyes of rain
filling

i tasted your salt
i tasted your blood,
i fastened myself to your roots
like a ball of earth,

triumphant with the spirit of the lily
and the rose

to rivers of stones
I give birth.

Blurred Absurd

looking up from her work
at me
to see

all

she can see
through me
from my eyes
how I scan
this scene surreal

as I stare back
from hers

at a self portrait

It happened once, during the darkest night
where even I could barely see,
staying that way until morning's light
when the shadows fade, setting us free.

And,the shadow players were also running free
on this particularly dark night,
taking advantage of us, as we could not see,
that these shadows were eating up all the light!

When daybreak returned with our sun's bright light
what my own eyes did finally see,
was that these darker shadows born from the night
were out and about, and a running free!

Monarch Butterfly

Wrap me
in wings of springs
butterfly.
cradle me in
loves simulations

Fly me
across meadows
of scented flowers
pollinating gathering
my hearts motivations

Feed me
with endless passion
preparing
the silk cocoon
of my
Transformation

Carry me
on winds of migration
across the
fields
of life's sensations

Re-born am I
with wings
to celebrate
the spring of my
loves exhilarations

A Ritual Endeavor

Your vapor brushes edges

my prism scatters time

presumptuous are circles
'round this sultry
sleight of hand.

Your song

a silent symphony
too raw to mend my tears
as it wedges through my essence;

floats half hung with muffled jeers.

Aphrodisiac of
redolence
mid ache of pointed pleasure

your release -

implicit servitude;
a wealth of weight and measure.

On the edge,
a new adventure -

adrenaline courses my veins

HUSBAND SNATCHER

She spent her youth in dazzling displays
Many a suitor to her court turned off
Found fault with those who dared
Some with bad body odour, she said
With smelling armpits and mouths
Now, she is a husband snatcher

Her excuses, many and spurious
They couldn’t afford her outlay
Thought herself high and pricey
Lest poverty follow her to matrimony
With hungry looking big-headed brood
So she looked out for a man of means

Palmist

trace your slender strong finger
down my palm
slipping words and musing
the wrist exposed
cradled in your work
your eyes glancing up
and the maple trees
hissing in the currents
flowing

if life were fair
and if it were so
easy

all the lines
and extensions
reaching

the attonements
of movement
grace and meaning

etched in their
emplacements
to be read
by talents

MID-LIFE CRISIS MAN

There you are in your new car
a convertible two seater
on the way to a nudie bar
an old bald headed cheater

At least, you would cheat if you could
but nobody takes the bait
did you really think they would
resign themselves to such a fate?

And now an errant puff of breeze
reveals a Donald Trump comb-over
a result which is bound to please
any girl who looks you over

~imprints

I know how love has
etched itself into creases of a single night

when we wrote poetry with trembles
and sighs
and sang together in harmony
of heaving hips

above us
the moon spun
stars crumbled
and color was born

as awakening pressed yellow
against thin skin of my eyes
I found myself alone
again

only the shape of you lingered
sculpted in empty wrinkles
between silk sheets

sadhana

we were down with it the other day
and i bit on a bit of cracked pepper
scrubbing linoleum tiles
doing my Hungarian sadhana
anger and heat mixing with
cold realities

no violins play where no one
dances

blue and red are primary colours
that sing with ruffled feathers
and spilled milk
we laugh
at ourselves
like children with dirty faces
and scraped knees, angels with nothing
up our sleeves

passion is a trembling shell
we put to our ears
and night rolls away the stars.

.

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