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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 End Of Our Story

This thing we share
Has brought me to insanity
If this here is love
I think we invented a mental disorder

At times I fall for the fairy tales we used to tell
Now I think about the hours I wasted on dreaming
And it makes me want to break all my mirrors
See, everybody knew I loved you with my heart and soul
If you couldn’t see that then I can recommend an optometrist

The Old Vicar

An old man sits on a churchyard bench
with his memories of times long ago.
When he was the Vicar of the church
and the people he’d come to know.

He recalls when he married a couple
on an almost perfect summer’s day.
And how with joy in their young faces
they knelt there before him to pray.

He remembers when he christened twins
who cried the whole ceremony through.
Their mother tried to keep them quiet
but there was nothing she could do.

Malediction

My dad was a man of many words,
Unfortunately most of them consisted of profanity.
But it didn’t stop him clipping an ear,
or the side of your head, if as children we produced vulgarity.

He would weave sentences so intricate and clever,
constructed entirely of, Fuck, shit and wanker,
that left a person astounded,
that made neighbours scatter.

If a clergy man passed by, the air was azure with blasphemy
and thick with malediction.
he made it quite an art,
And took great delight in his addiction.

To Sleep by Georgian Bay

The open casements by my bed,
speak the sound of the Georgian shore,
when the moonless black night,
blinds in dark my open eyes.

I can only listen
to the rhythmic lapping water’s edge
on the nearby stones and sand,
saying,
Swoosh to sleep now,
Swoosh to sleep now,

In the whispered shush,
like the small curled waves
seeping back from shape,
I softly curl away,
into my seeping dreams,

The Crow

`

the old crow
that blotted out the sun
perched upon a fencepost
and made faces
I have only ever seen
with nose pressed
against the pane
as I spied
ochred leaves
straddle the spine
of a willing breeze
to where tomorrow
could not yet be

`

The truth is boring ... is it not

The truth is boring… is it not

What fires, the mind of man incurs,
scheming such an unworthy writ.
Can evil so temper the imagination,
be given over to an uncaring wit.

Crying from high, sounds saintly,
actions are strewn as devilish cur.
Inside can burn an insipid hatred,
control is as always solid, with Sir.

I carry not the burden of genius,
this I forgo for a sense of being.
Feel their blades plunge the back,
turn, look, see cowards fleeing.

CIVIL CRAP

The poor new newspaper said
Oh yah
now I can paint the rain
And people will believe me

The richest one said
Oh no
And I can invent people who would support your news
So what do you think?

The poor newspaper said
Cool
Let us play with nuts and dumb heads
The richest news said oh no
Don’t say that
But say
Let us wash some empty minds
and drive the intelligent ones to madness
but
think of how much money we can make
pitting the madness against the void

A NIMROD'S BIRTH ( formerly 1st untitled)

I won't have time to post this Monday. Perhaps I'll be forgiven for posting it today

My memory takes me way back when
I was maybe six or eight
a Memphis city kid back then
I know that I could hardly wait

Tomorrow this tow-headed son
goes hunting rabbits with his dad
I just know it's going to be fun
having heard tales since a wee lad

How can I hope to go to sleep
on this cold night in bed so warm......
Wake Up! Time to out of bed creep!
rabbits await and nearly swarm!

TORSION

bend me with this
crimson crush
you twist me in your heady lush
I churn desired
and admonished
darkness cherish
onyx
and lash

bite the torrent
words that flow
and worship
pain that exstacy
extracts below

made me kneel
make me heal

FACETS

That guy who just flipped you the bird
showing his road rage, the turd
Sundays he's on the deacon's bench
a good man to know when in a pinch

The gray haired man in suit and tie
a banker, hard glint in his eye
each evening hits a different bar
and picks up hookers in his car

See the laborer with crooked teeth
scratch his surface and look beneath
in evenings he carves wood by hand
his figures in museums stand

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