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.

 

IMPROVED ROADS

Paved roads lead to interstates
which all wind up in a large city
where nothing good for me awaits
just crowded masses without pity

Yet when one goes the other way
road surfaces become unpaved
with just scant gravel over clay
where roadside growth is misbehaved

These are the roads which I prefer
where old trucks can leave a cloud of dust
while I seek fin, feather or fur
among a world I know and trust

the girl in the red dress

gulls shriek a grey hunger
across my field of silence
morning ripens into Monday
and the dance begins,

cars whizz into traffic jams, doors slam
the world coming in and going out,
dogs bark their allegiance, the morning's Hallelujah chorus
still singing their bird song as if nothing else
mattered,

copy

one day i will
stop searching crowds
i will lean backwards
to let fresh air
enter lungs
i'll inhale
colorless fate
that bleeds inside
expel you from veins
rich and thick with
the slightest graze
i won't beat down streets
causing night to pillowslip day
smothered with designs to
face your eyes with mine
strip your dignity
from the shady reasons
we
are not to be
and we will go off
into the blue
to see how things work out

SCARED OF STIGMA

When growing up, some friends boasted
They’ve become real men overnight
Had taints of mud in a wrestling match
They were bold to talk to any girl
My lack of gen dumbfounded them

You have not started, they chided me
Go back to the sand and play with toys
You still have a youngster's sense
I liked watching girls play, I was very shy
Afraid of hearing from them the word ‘no’

you know , today ,
i"m not exactely the same man
that i vas yesterday .
it"s different .
i mean i am i ,
but , with some 35 . 575 yesterdays
acumulated , colected in myself , in me ,
plus today ,
that tomorrow will be
an other yesterday ,
if meanwhile i shall not leave here
and co away for ever .

Piling up

Styrofoam china
stacked high above the rim;
last night's slaw
squeezing the air,

but I can't be bothered.

My hair is greasy
it'll shape any way but clean,
the shabby beard offers
an I'm drunk look,

I only shrug.

I need to feel something more than depraved
like the loose-bowel symptoms letting go relieves,

so I'm waiting

and that's where I live
over-used and de-mused;
just take me out.

the bed

our bed
is a two-person island,
we are castaways
from other sides

in its center, we are lovers
making love in the art of
making war, sideless we
blend ripe juices of conquest
surrendered and satiated
like lords of the dance
far away
from mortal combat in the untamed
jungle of our bliss, ascending and
descending

vagabonds on a caravan
searching for the holy grail
thirsty for grace

sometimes the best conversation
is made, sometimes we have
nothing to say

Out of Breath, Falling Into Your Eyes

There are words running alongside a river
winding itself around the bends of your curves,
a flow of feeling
pieces of sunrise radiating from your skin,
soft
(and it's charming how you guard something so perfect
with a shield of ice)
but it's easy to break through;
I realized this when I stopped looking at just the rearview
and fell into
those dark brown eyes,
felt myself surrender to gravity for a moment-
and boy, am I surprised -- caught hold of a rope,

Walking Backward, Tripping Over Snakes

My love for you: As pure as lungs need air to breathe,
but that was not meant to be; your absence suffocates me.
I turn to follow prints of feet, crossing deserts to find Plan B;
all that's found are skulls and bones, it makes no sense to walk backwardly.
There is no resurrection of a love-dead-gone affection
when oxygen no longer longs for lips or passing through another's fingertips,
and that's exactly what I need in order to have the strength to run.

Sweet Talk

so I don't talk so pretty
so what
it ain't jive
ain't even vulgar
not where I come from
grade school words
two syllable stuff
some ruff tuff grammer
from the hip mostly
or off the top of my head
out my mouth it comes
don't like it?
tell me
I don't bite
even my back talk hardly stings
so I don't talk so pretty
so fucking what!
you know damn well what I mean

Pages

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