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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.

 

“My Heart”

My heart breaks, for your adoration
My heart yearns, for your admiration
These arms are too short, to reach your heart

I think about you all the time
I imagine we are as one, making love to Roy C’s “I’ll always love you”
And dancing to Isaac Hayes “Stand Accused”

One day, I look to see your face appear in my presence
I sense, I will melt leaving a stain on the floor
Just like the wicked witch of the west

Loser

Loser

I try to a be a good daughter
a caring sister , be the best I can be.
It’s not enough,

Try to be me and let people be who they need to be.

Make an attempt not hurt any one
to consider everyone, but
I manage to cause pain,
my soul is drained.

Try to be me and let people be who they need to be.

I have so much love to share
but my vulnerabilities,
mean my heart is ripped out,
I’m going under.

Hear the cry,
I can never win.

A Very Brief Encounter

through the brilliant synchronicity
of all dynamic facets
she creates a vision
graceful
and lithe

a richly colored voice caresses
deep warm
breathy phrases
dancing through small giggles
and a sensual smile

then
without segue
robust laughter
disarming even the most rigid of cynics

a bit imperious
(in the best sense only)
yet, earthy as an heartland cornfield

she is a masterpiece

STORM BITS

Summer days, moisture's haze,thrunder brays,lightning's laze

          sun goes,thunderhead grows,windows close, wildlife knows

                   hard wind,trees bend, warnings send,picnic's end

                                 puoring rain,loud refrain,hail's pain

                                           river's gain. house shakes

                                                           bough breaks

                                                               drowns snakes

Reels

This constant urge to run
It's beginning a blank slate
Instilled in the mind
As a child

Sitting in a darkened room
Staring into space
The old movie
Plays again
And again

A disquieting alarm rises
From somewhere deep within
A place where I thought
It was long buried

Now shaking off the
Dust of time
The silenced whispers
Are once again heard

Ever tearing at the veil
Needing to be recognized as
Valid thought

creature, as we are

i belong to a race of people
yet to be discovered
unseen by the multitudes
i travel the inner highway
to the sanctuary of your soul
seldom reach my destination,
there's no where that's not here,
and here is a perspective that is always present

i long to touch you, open the secret that is you
to the rain that falls far from the wasteland
of your inner flame
your heart in the sky,
afire
with the leaves of Paradise.

Apostrophe

Is it possible?
that possession entered
into what we both
have freely given

Now we both
feel the constrains
of love set in the
apostrophe

Did we over punctuate
without really understanding
what the ramifications
of wanting would be.

Where did we agree?
to this conjunction
words were never spoken
or read a syllabus of love
.
The joy of two dear friends
with benefits is lost
now we count every syllable
and react to every metaphor

Rain in the Night ~ Homero Aridjis

Rain in the Night

It rains in the night
on the old roofs and the wet streets

on the black hills
and on the temples in the dead cities

In the dark I hear the ancestral music of the rain
its ancient footfall its dissolving voice

More rapid than the dreams of men
the rain makes roads through the air

makes trails through the dust
longer than the footstep of men.

Tomorrow we will die
die twice over

Once as individuals
a second time as a species

When All Say REviewed

When All Say
Poetry is too simplistic
Then write,
that which is not.

When you compose
What is too fuckin complicated
Then again straightaway
Confiscate it.

Never mind
What others have to say
They are all going to critique it
In their own imitable way

Accept it if you will
Or else smile,
LOL…
But let the critique,
Not your conscience kill.

Poetry is all about emotions,
In which one is submerged
And
From corrosive thoughts
Errors surface in turn.

Uninvited Guests

She could hear
The doors open
To the car that
Never brings
Good news

Footprints sounded like drums
As clear skies found clouds
She prayed so hard
Hoping it was some mistake

As the bell rang
Her heart quit beating
As she welcomed
Her uninvited guests

The leaves were falling
As the world carried on
For her, this moment
Was discussed before deployment
Every army wife had this talk
Now it was a reality
Not some scenario

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