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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.

 

Last Night (Shark Pool Submission)

The chili has been simmering
for two hours now,
the rice cold and no phone call, again.
I’ve fed the cat, dog and
helped our budding baby girl with her homework,
made sure she washed behind her ears,
she’s in the bed, but still no call, just the silence of winter’s
end and its cold running though in jarring shivers,
she’s really pushing this trust thing … but she
does deserve any me-time she can get, just wish
she’d call and confirm it, not leave me here waiting
for … knock knock knock,

Horizon

Horizon

I look to the
vanishing point of my
eclectic life,
self-reflection
stirs memories
of both virtuous quality
and abysmal events.

If I were a coward
I would purge the
horrific occurrences,
one by one, for they
often lead to reopening
past, unrelenting stings.
If I were a weakling
I would flee from these things.

The Final Horizon

The Final Horizon

Moving towards the horizon,

I can hear the soft sounds,

Of tolling of a bell,

Ah is it for me,

They are ringing?

That no one knows,

Nor can anyone tell.

I move closer,

In my sojourn to the sea,

Towards that calm ocean of eternity,

I hear it’s now calling for me,

As I reach nearer the shore,

I leave behind all my memories,

Treasures and belongings for sure

My earthly and worldly possessions,

My future biological consumptions,

the secret world of hearts

come with me to my secret world
inside the world of creation
where pansies laugh with the apples
of your cheeks and forget-me-nots
dwell

slowly, softly enter my dream
let the sun of sorrow hide where shadow worlds
meet your horizon and the window of your
reflection thaws the ice that was;
bring to me an overflowing bouquet:
your sighs
and the moments your breath was stolen--
the human child awakening, saturated with
night, the light of gold flowering in your hair,
pale blue as the
summer sky,

The perfect place for me to start
To splash, to kick, to learn
Oh I'm so glad, much fun we had
The journey has just begun

Dipping in the pool was stimulating
Although unsure of getting wet
However, an exhilarating experience
One, I won’t easily forget.

Those helpful hints, without reserve,
Our stanzas improved flow,
Though Eddie wants no special praise
Stand up and take a bow !!

Worked as a group
Each helping the other,
one cohesive mind.
Equality ruled.

In Despair

Down there
deep formed darkness
breathes intricate
with pain of
suffering existance

long distilled by fractal nightmares
under piss-stained bridges rising
over yawns of chasm buildings
once alive

now chained by grime
to decades poverty
and unmeasured nights hungered
by avarice misery unleashed
as hollow commerce

an age so long ago
the ice-caps linger
shuddered from their time
in empty realities
bright with anguish

Real

Real

The ecstasy
is what I think
will last inside
of me
but it is a moment
moving like
quick silver on hands
of short lived
time

Wasting it
is my Guilt
each moments pleasure
belongs to it only
to try and hold it
is like surviving
on a glass of air
and a wind pie

That hunger
is awaiting the next
moment
I live for each one
drawing on every pleasure
it provides
asking for nothing
just being
a part of its unmeasured
evolution

Fedoras

funny, how fedoras look
out of place today
incongruous
anachronistic
on the wrong face

Epiphany

There came a lurch within my chest
when you put my car in gear
and eased us out from our driveway,
not because I feared your lack
of skill behind the wheel,

but because I looked at you
as you stopped us on the edge
of busy street and watched you
look, turn and accelerate
with the confidence that only comes
from being comfortable inside
one's skin,

Once More into the Breach

It’s Tuesday and I gotta mount that colt.
The groundwork’s not gone well~ he tends to bolt.
But I been paid and gotta get it done.
We need no more than walk…don’t wanna run.
He’s cinched up slow as always. That’s our way.
The greenhorns think he only wants to play.
They point with greenhorn fingers while they laugh
when flips his damn, fool head like some giraffe.
But somehow we get bridled ere it’s noon.
I think he’s only gazin’ at the moon
and settin’ up to take a careful aim.

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