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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.

 

rot

if i were there
i would tell you

winter is facing up
to its past mistakes

no rain
turned to
damp meadows with
muddied hooves

if you were here
you would say

i've never lived
a discontented season
but you are not shakespeare
and i am not grieving

a death i did not feel

past mistakes find themselves
buried like tall oaks
we can chop them down
but the roots live

rotting where we cannot see them

Did you miss Me?

I returned home
on Palm Sunday
to find knockout roses
behind my brick mailbox
parading their first blossoms of spring.

I found candytuft
faded to green,
saving scattered sprinkles of white
for me to view one more day.

Fallen pink petals of dogwood trees
fluttered through a whimsical ballet
to entertain me on their ballroom floor
of Kentucky bluegrass.

Hasten

awake
morning chilled breath
the birds are talking
the ice is waiting

this sky the chalk silver
horse that stands
and the hundred silence
miles of endurance

asleep
dreamland marionette
tap heel light on strings
sit and tell
the gruelling past
packed in trunks of histories

there are
motions of faces
fixed in perceptions
like doorshadowed
visitors

and paces of hunger
scratch prayer messages
on earthen dust page

Milkweed

I've been wondering
if you still see me
in everything Australian

I remember how
you shopped for shrubs
to put in your back garden

and the day
you cornered that poor girl
at the office meeting
just to hear her accent

do our trees still grow
in the dry breath of
California air

or

have they died
fighting for life
between
the weeds of us

we hit skid row

 

 

[How Charles Bukowski might have handled the nursery rhyme ‘Hark, hark, the dogs do bark’]

 

 

we hit skid row

as the greasy rain

slicked

the sidewalks

 

we threw

our empty bottles

at the mutts

yelping

round

the dumpsters

 

then

 

we crashed out

in a doorway

waiting

for the city

to open

 

Johnny and me

pulled our

greatcoats

round us

feeling in

the torn pockets

 

love letter #68

cursing time zones
i regretted missing you,
the conversations

it's been a while now,
since echoes of long distance
voiced opinions to me

things never were bad,
were they

that we can't remember the good
or perhaps
they were never so good

it occurred to me,
you were upstream,
trying to find clear passage
between shit you, yourself made

there is not a point
to drown now-
after the fighting,
after the tremendous valor,
courage and obstinacy
you showed

red bar stools

he searched the yellow fingers
that clawed at the truths
beyond her turkey neck

tomorrow he will have forgotten,
remember nothing
beyond bleak eyes

suffocate on whiskey breath
and tainted dreams

A PARTING OF WAYS

I guess the good times always end

  even after all our time together

  I'd come to think of you as "friend"

  dependable in stormy weather

 

From when we met so long ago

  at a hunters' supply store

  beneath flickering flourescent glow

  we've hunted, fished and even more

 

You've been quiet comfort on my walks

  through the forest, now for years

  by never burdening me with balks

  or "wait until the weather clears"

 

There've been no complaints about my pace

love letter #3

we can do right or wrong
and yet we can't win it,
the argument, love
whatever is peppered
on that merciless breeze
the hanging is around my neck
and to break it
would be to swing
freely; but no one is free

i sleep in a manless bed
for no other reason
than space
and he sleeps with her
for no reason at all
unless he's frightened
or bitter, or too tired to fight

ORPHANELL, ON A RAINY DAY

ORPHANELL, ON A RAINY DAY
© Cyrus Dali Vesuvala
.
Orphanell, on a rainy day,
On an afternoon in June-
Though you wish your man would stay
That’s crying for the moon-
But, through your silent teacup storms,
Through lonely days like these,
Oh, Orphanell, I share your stormy seas...

Orphanell, you have a friend:
You have a saving grace-
Through afternoons without an end,
In such a lonely place-
Because, one rainy afternoon,
Beneath dark loaded skies,
Did you unload the sadness in your eyes.

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