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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.

 

A pastoral rhyme attempt

I woke bleary
with bamboo towering over my head
I was too weary
to wonder if it would make the world dead.

I climbed out of the back of the van and spewed
last nights Bundie
then I viewed
the wonder of this world
even though in my horrid state
it was all swirled
around.
And lovely.

Traces Remain

Part of her is scarred
and she wraps that spot
with scarves, high collars
or extra mascara.

Remnant traces still
ring her shoulder.
Mawkish echoes careen
around her brain.

His self-inflicted torture
spilled over onto her
as his crazed lashes struck her
bone deep.
Musty smells
from those moments
linger
among her nostril mucus.

She carries on,
unable to complete
her forgiveness.

Shades of Noire

black mould like the rind
midnight
encircling the tub
its wanton encroachment
the gin bottle gleaming
mockery memories

leaning at the window
a fragment vision
the stars wavering
obliterated by tattered clouds

and I think how this
Dusk obsession
consumes me

you receed down hallways
your voice fainter
the chalice beauty
of your one liners
shinning

and the rain
destroys my poems
on sand berms
and dreams
like dust
in windstorms

The Haggis Hunt

THE HAGGIS HUNT by Ian Thomson

Close by a big fire, our host fried ham and eggs
“Is that your Ayrshire bacon?” “Naw, heatin’ ma legs!”
We ate then we left the pub for the car park
Where our guide, half-wit Hamish loomed out of the dark
With his good wife, Mad Morag - no beauty (in truth
Some called her Juanita - she’d only one tooth).

The Demise Of A Mind

Assault with intent
To kill this mind
Ransacked memories
Obliterated dreams
Till nothing is left
But a void

Lulled into
A transient state
Then lurking
Waiting to attack

Still the voices
That cry out for help
Till there is
No conscience thought

Meaningless scraps
Are left in the dust
To be swept away
Through the canyon
That was once
A mind

You, my Love

As I take my final steps
before I rest in peace
I reflect on our lives
and what you meant to me

Through my cloudy cataract
I clearly see you
holding my wrinkled hand
My handsome old man

Through my faulty ears
I can hear you say
“You still look as beautiful
with your lovely grey”

My trembling fingers
won’t let me write much more
But my toothless smile
wants you to know for sure

crocodile hunter, shaman's apprentice

i gather my sticks and stones
beat around the bush
facing East, then West
bow three times

scrape my knees on the doorstep of persuasion
the attic filled with cobwebbed intrusions of domesticity
but nothing seems out of place,
my basement leaks with water under the foundation
and the walls shout with time cracking through the lifted iris
you purr like a selfish house cat, smug and twitching his whiskers
with pensive appetite,

I Didn't Know

I didn't know I was waiting.
With no idea I was looking for anything
I quietly put my heart away
not missing it or its needs.
I closed the door happily.
Life continued pleasently for me.
Satisfied and content
I did not see these as lies.
The day I let you in I was
swept away.
On a wild tide of swirling
illogical emotions;
I was dragged from the saftey of shore.
Cast adrift in a turbulent storm
of pent up desires

110B

and they all ask me
how was the vacation
start by listening and end
by walking away disinterested
envy never hears much but
i survey the old room
take in the peeled paint
the new lights and old faces
brightness makes them ashen
dulled of life
full of vicissitudes
i finally am not like them
i am grateful i know this for
the last man who spoke to me
said

you are not like anyone i've met

Twangy Guitar

lonesome tough
low
gritty growls
laconic as a bad ass movie star
arrogant

slinky

women stare
all over him
he's got it down
cold
a one man rat pack
on the make
'til the call of the road
takes over his soul

something he often regrets
but the lonesome tough
don't do duets

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