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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.

 

Entity Of The Night( re-edited)

Entity of the night
Make thy self be known
Are you from the underworld
Or of human
Flesh and bone

Phantom of the dark
What is it you seek
To prey upon a living soul
Or another’s life
To store in your keep

Weaving dreams of
Shadowed lies
Guiding the hands that write
Of love and tombs and
Flowers left to die

There's a calm before the storm
You are here to do me harm
Try as you might
It will all be in vain
Yet I know that I will
Weather the pain

SUICIDAL

There's no more shame
in this modern whirlwind
tomorrow forgets our stumbles
too readily, for those who choose
to ignore I'm standing.

Teetering on the edge of disaster
heart beats loud in my ear pounding
quick and even faster,

Gazing down from the brink
of the ever after, just a few hundred
feet and the agony will cease.

Turning about-face can no longer
look at the point of my demise,
from where the crushing limbs of
the sea will soon taste my bile.

Sir Reality...

She stands on the corner, outlined in the rain
Hikes her skirt at passing cars
and tries to hide her shame

Never thought she'd be a whore, sell her body to the night
Now, the need for a fix again
leaves no strength to fight

The yellow headlights of the cars, offer warmth, an easy mark
The motel room smells dirty
but at least it's dark

Feel the golden glow, the push of ecstasy
She looks into the dresser mirror
says; " It's not really me"

melancholy

there were the bones of us
damp impressions
left wild-eyed on still-warm bedsheets

we lay scattered throughout the
day
and rehearsed four-cornered vows in the
silence of immediacy

we didn't know what to say then
and we don't know now

but the sky is blue today and there
is magic when poems are air-brushed
by unseen hands, heard as falling rain
on cobblestone by some, felt like the
melancholy of dying stars
by others

Yo Yo Ma draws his bow,

Oh what a day

Oh what a day,
To live as we are living,
Oh what a day,
To be as we are here,

Oh what a day,
To see what we are seeing,
Oh what a day,
To shed a lonesome tear,

And oh what a day, this day, this day of beauty,
And oh what a day to have it as we do,

Yet nought of my fear, my fear at what I’m doing,
Has ever marred the sight, the sight, my love, that’s you,

And even though I know, my heart is surely aching,
Even though I have, but moments left to spare,

Two, Six syllable Lines

.
opinion speaks loudly
wisdom bites off its tongue

“I Love You”

I love you more than moonlight
Shining on a dark night
More than sunlight
Peeking through treetops

I love you more than rain
Falling on a hot day
More than shade
Blocking the heat wave

I love you more
Walking the strand
Smooching by the starlight
This humid summer night

The Warrior (prose) -small revision for clarity

I was born to a family of Arrowak Indians.
My grandfather was the village Chief and a warrior.
I remember,
when I was a young child of about seven years of age..
My grandfather LeLe taught me the ways of the earth,
for he did not know any other God, even though the puritans tried.
He could not recognize a God, he could not see or touch.
He would say to me,
"The earth gives us everything we need to survive, and we in turn
must give back to the earth. because in the end it is to where we return."

the Book

It is an amazing story
interlacing and interweaving
every chronicle of every history
into a volume of life
worked to the smallest detail

plots and twists and mini themes
with everyone its hero

What great mind could author this?

A saga over eons
a tome with billions of characters
interacting
each at the centre of its own universe
printing the pages at the forefront of creation
living the words
learning the thoughts

Deconstructing in an attempt to comprehend
a genre of mixed emotion

white swan

california offers
no excuses
vanilla scents and
tastes
as if experience
is a first time
i sample it with
no expectations
a surprising occurrence

the entertaining flavor
will have no lasting effect
the sweetest fruit
never do

yet life gains another moment
to savor when days
wait

how sad it becomes
a time line for death
while courage lingers
almost as a ballerina

on nervous toes

another swan dies
in a land of indecision

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