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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

Last night,
The crumpled bed sheet
Indicated the sojourn
you undertook
In the middle
Of a stark helpless,
lonely night,
as you braved
The surf alone
Oh what a bone!

This Time

this time
I won't do that again
so what do I do
I do it again!

the human psyche
is a bitch
full of shit
mostly

but then, though not often
brilliance times ten
from the same mentality
who repeatedly
puts his boots on the wrong foot

If you are not crazy by now
you haven' lived long enough
for some it takes a lifetime and a half
but, as you see
once again
there is something wrong with this logic

I won't do that again

yeah, right!

To be human

To be human

I do it because it is there
And I love to be home and hosed

I take wrong risks
And want to be settled and married.

I have met my soul mate, often,
And loved deeply

I spread my memes,
Not my genes,

I give, love, lose and win

I live.

and I meditate on mortality
having lived extremely,
passionately and fully,
if I died tomorrow
it would piss me off
but it wouldn't kill me.

POET'S HANDS

These are hardly poet's hands
far too scarred and gnarled with age
with skin as dry as desert sands
yet they still scribble on this page

hummingbird of las briesis

life goes by
as fast as hummingbirds
on tiny wings
too full of motion to see
she's not restless like me
she knows her place
finds her duty and
applies it

searching for nectar
stopping only
to realign herself

i watch from the balcony
her busy attitude reminds me
i cannot be tied
cannot be settled
always knowing there is more

and like the hummingbird
the next flower is adventure
next new scent
next new person i meet

LADY IN RED, LADY IN WHITE

This one is a "textural tone" poem, in the sense that it needs to be RECITED to better understand the intended rhythm and texture of the piece.
I'd be interested to hear any thoughts on howc successful you think this was.
P.S. The reference to "sectional fantasy want" is just an internal architectural joke...
Psyve
.
.

LADY IN RED, LADY IN WHITE
-------------------------------------------
© Cyrus Dali Vesuvala

VESTIGE

deep under the green
rivulet run
I cast away the masks
and feel the soul bleeding

there is much of histories
torn from diaries
aflame
embers rising
like snowflakes
climbing

the slow whirl

timeless the dark
where dreams
lay in wait

sharpening their claws
and licking their paws

PAYMENT DUE

OK Jess, here's my "angry " poem. Await your pastoral............stan

I go to make withdrawal now
from the place I used to bank
where everybody smiles at you
..........like sharks

The place that I made payment to
for over fifteen years you see
on a home I'd come to think was mine
and lived with my family

until I lost my job

as result of
BANK FAILURES

flowers for Antigone

at the root of motherhood
the dawn of civilization
how could I have mistaken
God for my father and cut the
throat of the Magdalene?

the burden of the sky is to bear no defense against
the weavers of treachery,
words are pulp fiction
and pronounced in syllables
with the accent on denials,

recruit the marching flowers with the sing-song of
the drum, its rhythm a temple in an oasis where
priests fornicate with their sinless prayers
and the wealthy masturbate with spoils of ill-begotten gain

whores and artists

you said you wrote
to become popular and i
scratched my head
knowing
that very thing
isn't achievable

with your ego intact
as hard as needles on a porcupine
i suspect your sting wounds

she reminds me of
how classicists took ordinary
and made ugly perfect
how you took her with words
turned her from who she was
to madonna with child
so vividly white
everyone forgot marble is cold

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