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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.

 

October Blues

The sky is October blue

that vibrant wild-ache kind of blue
that moves crumbled leaves beneath cold air

the kind where sun struggles to steam earth
and I feel my heart breathe like spring's birth
with the kind of breath that makes leaves shake;
makes the last glow of sun tremble before it sets

where the pavement's wet
and the streetlight flickers
with its fake orange light

and I wonder why I continue--

continue to fight

Fortitude

I journey indiscriminately.

Might I explode,

[implode]

find gravity
in a dash of

cognition;

wrap within my gradient wind
that pithy countenance against glass

that waits

pressed for recognition
behind clouded panes?

Dare I set an avenue
paved for my own feet

veiled or bare?

A Lifetime of Love

How quickly the time has passed
since the day you became my wife.
After all this time it feels as though
we’ve been together all of my life.
They have been mostly good years
the difficulties have been few.
And the best thing I have ever done
is to fall in love with you.

Midnight Courage

`

I love the wee and trippy hours of an
after-midnight when that glass slipper
lays glistering aloof, in soft moonlight
while weary dreamers poise inked quills
to carve their thoughts onto pale parchment
from a woozy head -- too early in the day
to be about one's inescapable routines
too late of a night to do all else but swoon.

This is the cherished witching-hour in a life
where most everything is held, transfixed
in the baffling clarity of glad cerebration--
intoxicated Muses dance in celebration.

Frailty

Darkness sometimes shudders
on the broken edges of my loneliness,
beaten back by you, by us,
from the empty shoreline of the island
that I used to be, never farther than
the next time I am gone from you.

an orchard of sticks

once he told me
'love does not exist'

with all the attention
to his own needs,
those he touched
were left fruitless

he was blind
to others

and

blind faith
bore no peace

I knew
his reality
existed only
in his mind

and mine

became a life
worth living

the water horse

and when the rain falls
I ask myself,
'would god shed tears over
humanity when humanity has
forgotten why we were taught hope'

if every planet up there
became as bleak as earth
would he scream or shout
the way humans do

i imagine his anger
over the willingness to die
before our time is over
because someone said
today's youth are restless, useless
and too insular to care
too concerned with
wanting to fix all of the blackness
without ever setting foot
into the light

What does it take..

If I write a poem
with the beat out of time
will you tell me
or decline

then what will I learn
don't save me the pain
please
give it to me
straight and plain

when my ego is bruised
should I just give up
if so,
I sure as hell have
loose screws

Is poetry,
imagination, metaphors,
and cliches
that say one thing
and mean something else

is it in my brain
or in the strain
of your brain
to understand or refrain
from what you've read

The Corrupted Evolution

I don't believe in a soul,
If I had one,
it's been carted away from legacy.

Be amidst one child devil,
of propensity undiscovered,
a gutless trilobite.

Swimming ostensibly,
existing recognisably,
hidden.

Begrudgingly filing a request for reward,
rewardingly,
soulless may create my non existence.

In bloodless comfort,
existence does not gratify a soul,
why live it.

Then is death.

That death brings life.

To a soulless trilobite.

Suckers

Making a stand for individuality.
Two fingers formed into the international sign
for up yours and ‘V’ for victory.

A war against the ignoble scum suckers
of this universe. Undeviating,
in the search for originality.

Fighting for the right to be what or who you are,
In the face of a disapproving world,
outside their concept of reality.

In the final analyses, the conclusion must be,
Acceptance is all most seek.
But hold your ground, let go of ambiguity.

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