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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.

 

Hr.H marmalade high

Hr. H. marmalade high

We’ve had our own war it seems
closing down shops, one was called
Fortnum and Masons, where the rich
spend, and we can but only
spend time, well we can’t go
around always’ like the Ostrich.

Some were arrested, others hurt
a policeman’s pride at not being
able to protect Lizzie’s marmalade shop.
Think it’s closed today, tired from
all the cleaning, heard them say “untidy
that lot did you see the hairstyles?

Think of the song, your own music…

Icarian Malady

`

When I found the time to be
I found that time had passed me by

When my dreams had set me free
Life set its bounds upon the sky

Should my spirit soar above,
the sun above my wings did pluck

Should my soul find love,
you'd find my cards had no such luck.

Though we predict the end,
we jump into the cloudy veil

We quest for dreams, traverse each bend;
the seeker's heart in us prevail.

`

Love Land

Love Land

There is a place among the clouds where music plays, sweet and low.
It is a place where love and lovers continue to go.
Where loves never grow old or cease.
It is a place where there reins serenity, and peace.

Honeysuckle hangs from every latticed walk.
Roses fill the air with fragrance thick.
Where lovers go hand in hand as they talk.
Where jasmine, scents the starlit nights.

Flicking Dust

.
little worlds
spinning
gyrating
dancing?
in the sun

to what music
do they dance?

swaying
and swirling
across the beams
ever so lightly

there must be music!
tiny indescernable bands
or mariachis, maybe?

unimpressed with my presence
or disruptive sigh
they waltz on and on and on
unperturbed

I watch
I wish I could hear their song

for the birds (vignette)

seven small finches
~

breath on windows
spelled numbers cubed

tiny parts, tiny days
the song is tired he said

~
some days it can melt you
~

the way
light falls on
the inside of your arms
as you brush your hair
creates an ache for
parts of you
i do not know

i must be inspired
you stay

~
morning's purple
~

its torn, bloodied lip
motionless

and dawn ridicules us
clouds balance out color
before storms

a bar with broken hearts

he predicted it,
the way seismologists can
with tremors of the earth.
he predicted she would leave
and wouldn't excuse it
or write him words to weep with,
she would simply disappear
the same way she arrived

he will drink her away,
find some small corner,
sit and face remorse
in a smudged, dirty glass
and he won't stop
until the feeling dies

or he does

you can go now

and all the words
are falling
through the floor
water is seeping
into every crack
walls bulge
with wide-eyed
ideals
no matter what
you won't be back
it's ok though
i can handle that

as a matter
of fact
it wasn't you
who broke
through
for every pane
for every ache
it's all still intact

did i ever mention
the way you
affected every
little thing i did,
i do-

"A Feeling of Dread"

This empty feeling comes and it goes,
its swift and its subtle as a vine of ivy that grows.

My emotions lay bare, naked and free,
with no attempts to hide them,
their transparent like me.

An open book for anyone to read,
my thoughts splayed wide open,
for the sadistic to feed.

My story no different from ones of the past,
sometimes its tragic and sometimes I laugh.

No different from anyone, when you cut me I bleed,
afraid of my feelings, I'm afraid of my need.

H A R S H L E A N

hot lick of sun
rests in the freckled brace
and sharp bone
beneath moon wished flesh
swims

the green depths swallow
the discourse
jaunty pain
like the blade tip
Your fingers peirce
your words delve
wounds

shadows swirl like black
birds hungry on the carcass
death is smiling
through the sticks
tangled like love

trace words
upon my shoulder
this cascade
uncertianty binds
us

and the sky is filled
with little clouds
racing the wind

NED'S WAR

I used to know a man named Ned
from hunting years on his homestead
two hundred acres and a bit
he had inherited all of it

What fields there were were strewn with stones
as white and thick as old bleached bones
his father farmed it years ago
a hard place to make crops grow

So Ned set all the fields in pines
planting right up next to kudzu vines
which grew thick along the old field road
a dusting ground for bird and toad

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