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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.

 

The Bread Line

When she shared her news,
it was too late, and for a short time,
later, he'd be angry.

She began to deteriorate the
very next day, for nineteen months
she suffered; but her concerns were
always for him, not the pain no reliever
would ease. Cancer is such an ugly way
to go, but she was brave and beautiful,
even in death.

Eight years later, standing in line,
he had lost everything, but still has to smile ...
it was he who had been loved by her!

Setting Moon

`

A winsome voice rose
into the unlit sky
its fingers harped
unwakened dreams

A bare vignette lurched
into the shadows
its claws scraped
unshoed expeditions

An arm is raised high
blurry stars in witness
its blood testifies
unquieted aspirations

A voice rose to the Night.
and formed a melody
its waiting days expired
unsought gem wanes.

`

TALE OF TWO HUNTERS

In my stand before the break of day
as starry sky turns to dawn gray
awaiting a nice whitetail buck
to fill my freezer with some luck
should he choose to come my way

Here in this copse of mature pines
beside a thicket of briers and vines
for company a pair of gray squirrels
with tails held in question mark curls
I scan surroundings for antler tines

Small

though
you are
no longer
the infant
impatient
hungry

still I wait,
listen for
a cry to
creep through

these
small hours
I find you
noiseless
to the wants
of a mother

what
would I give
the whole
of you

can
I define
a universe
a tangent gift

it is there in
a heart beat
a breath
a sigh

or

forgiveness
before my
own demise

GLIMPSE

ribbon riding
polish shinning
wavering this summer heat
in undulations hot as
a cutting torch

the cloth rippling on us
held fast by bright buttons
we gleamed lasting
smiles as pole by pole
we past and ate up the
miles

leaning on elbows bruised
from hasty landings
the landscape wide
and wild swayed by
and the large open sky
gave each a thirst for
the soul

A Vagueness blue...opaque

A Vagueness blue…opaque

Who else could have written that song you liked
last Tuesday as we sat in the café dim?
I thought as much was true of you
and turned my hand to scribe a penned
prize, indistinctive but solid and gracious.

So now we understand the fuss and fighting
in a lifetime of stares from our peopling learning
steps we climb over or through for recognition,
given over like a horse drawn mill to some to
others an Olympic gold medal for making
one hundred and ten meter of trash.

Face Off

From out amongst the shadows
she emerged quite wearily,
as humble, and as sweet a person
that you'd rarely chance to see;

her charm worn as an overcoat
tailor made to be the perfect size,
when I asked if she would care to stay
relief spilled into both her eyes.

When she talked to me she had a way
of easing my troubled soul,
other times, spent feeling awkward
even though, 'twas not her goal.

Di Vanita (Revision)

I wrote once of leaves,
And their death as they do fall,
To plummet from such tumbling heights,
On nothing but the winds’ wistful call;

I wrote how they would glide,
From branch, to breeze, to ground,
And I dreamt of such vicious things,
That await their rustling sound;

I saw how they would wait,
With a sickly sort of glee,
Readying their tools to bite and drag,
When they knew it could not flee;

THE SCORCH OF THE TRUE VIPER

My sweet tongued viper of truth
double edged is your sword
laying waste to those who lie
to manipulate loves rewards

True blue of your eyes
searing those who dare cheat
calling their intention love
scorching their betrayal with heat

The fire of your passion
they covet
only finding themselves burnt
to cinder and ashes

The sweet odor of your loveliness
is the alluring scent they believe
is your lady like weakness
but it's their hearts that are cleaved

A young woman who loved me spoke Welsh to me

A young woman who loved me spoke Welsh to me;
perhaps she was lying in her own language, but her kisses felt like truth.
She held me as though I was the brightest pebble from the river,
hard in her hand, close to her breast; she did not let me go,
I fell by my own mass, by my own gravity, not back into the river
but onto the dry, yellow ground where all I owned was
the little half-pit I made in the dust, and that wasn't really mine.
No more Welsh, no river-ripple, just deep-dull, lost, closing,
heartbeatless, truthless, sleep.

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