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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.

 

Bridging the gap

In the dying light of your voice,
the sky wings away
silhouettes my bones;
I suck at marrow
of small gods
flesh the north wind, so pure,
inside my mouth:
the sun picks at my eyes,
gently

You Be Happy!

You are happy
I am happy
And
if you are a part of
Neopoets and my family
You will be happy...

Come join me
in the oblivion of time
I reside at the edge of eternity,
Where there is pure happiness,
As my only company

I reside in the hearts of mankind
Who are as happy?
As you are and are
also so kind.

Everything in life is relative
Happiness too

What of a rose can you think?
If it had no thorns,

RHYKU

The screen's fading glow
is like memories dissipating
as I rise and finally go
to my warm bed awaiting

Rhyku- a new,I think, form similar to Haiku in which brevity in form is used but in which at Least 2 lines contain rhyme.Does not matter which 2. Limitation in number of lines is 3 minimum and 4 maximum and length of each line to not exceed 7 words. Give it a try and see if you like it lol...............stan

Raindrops

Raindrops fall.
I stretch my arm out,
feel them on my palm
now wet with rain,
the familiar coldness,
your thoughts
that run across my mind.
The raindrops turn warm
and I wipe my cheeks.

Haïku to work on

The spring sun
reincarnates the scent
of autumn

Way in the distance
a white seagull
passed a dark wood

or

dark silhouette against the sky
against the mountain
white bird

Shrubs on the hidden path
throw pollen
on the marriage

(SH! I saw it)
Dogs dropping
wrapped in a dead leaf
spring roll

dew falls down the leaf
all the world
is second hand

Unexpectedly
the fig leaves
fell off

Alone
even the paper flowers
give company

or

Bats Say It Better

Bats sing better harmonies, outside my window
Mouths slick with the pulp and juice of our orange tree,
they screech to each other in E minor,
D flat and A sharp, calling
‘the fruit is here!’

My mouth is always dry,
exhausted of trying to speak of things post-lingual:
these emotions, something other than elated, destitute or sad.
Doing it better,
the bats still manage to sing.

Granduer at Miniscule Debit

Ply me with grass fingers
you wave through the old growth
and the fresh barometric stubble
shinning with eyes pulled
deep from sounding action
coloured by storms and fires
lit by sunsets harsh and
tender attraction

Nickle and dime salutation
and your trick as you turn that
worn lucky peice through your
fingers and click it on your
grandmothers ring
walking in your gait across
cracked greyling sidewalks
that have seen steel rimmed
democrats and winged Detroit
steel

It's my job to whisper...

It’s my job to whisper…

They whisper on the wind in the
minds of the sane taking up their
station for profit or for gain.

Mesh covered windows are cracked
open during the night allowing only
the breeze inside or within sight.

Treachery they guard against in case
their secrets out the punishment for
informants they are never left to doubt.

We are just the senders and not to
know the reasons why we all get sharp
reminders and some they even die.

Inside the mouth of relativity

I.
brittle elegy's seedlings, the night swings
its petticoat leg,
while small birds
(still spinning dinosaur's songs)
flying like poetic wounds
inside deepenst evolution's mouth;
what kind of disease will feed your hunger now?

II.
I distill the colours of distant stars,
inside a grain of sand; plastic hands
carry the smoke of cruelty
(with its new feathers)
with money-smiles
and unholy holiness
maintaining the balance
of mediocrity and sad eyes;

To Portsmouth and beyond

As the eastern sun rises
we’re on our way.
The dawn is slowly breaking,
waking up a new day.

We’re headed for the south coast
leaving Swansea,
motoring down the M4,
bags packed for the journey.

On the rolling grassy hills
lambs jump play,
sheep still in their overcoats
until the month of May.

A far distant mountain range
intrudes the sky,
peaking over valley plains
where buzzards hunt and fly.

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