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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.

 

VOID

What progress within the static constant
I could shut one eye for ever and nothing
would change but appearance, becoming a
one eyed blinker temporarily blind
for an infrequent instant.

Impatient through the grinding hopeless
numbness that battles my sensibilities
seeking distraction within view of the
impasse that encircles this fracture.

Splitting vertically beneath my feet
sees me stumbling backwards to the
safety of the ragged edge.

The Voice You Will Remember

“Look at me”, they shout,
“look at me,
look how wonderful I am
compared to you!”
But they are nothing,
less than insect defecation
stuck to grimy windows
sweltering in useless heat.

“I am here”, they shriek,
“I am here,
look how much I matter,
so much more than you!”
But they are insignificant,
as tiny as the lives they lead,
pathetic amongst the throngs
they so desperately
try to rise above.

On A Homeless Man's Death

A homeless man lay dying
On a bleak and wintry day
People purposely avoided him
As if he was in their way

God’s angels watched in wonder
Surely, someone would care
To help this fellow human
But, they only acted unaware

He had helped a threatened woman
He fought to save her life
And the man that tried to harm her
Attacked the homeless man with his knife

People kept on walking
As tears fell down his face
The life poured from inside him
As he prayed for dying grace

LATE WINTER'S NIGHT With Shirley Harrison's help

In a dark and varied landscape
on a night of sickle moon
all seems stark and severe

As were the artist's medium
a charcoal sketch
on gray paper, bare

Even the sky is smudged
by stratus thumbs
smearing random stars
from west to east
leading to further decreased
ambient light

Skeletal trees upward reach
and with naked arms beseech
a return of leaves and warmth
having become cold
inured to their own nudity

Sweetness

I eat plastic noodles
to remember, the imaginary scent of December
sipping at chilli soup in my bed rags
your artificial smell
loving up my bed hair.

I fell into her bed right there
your feelings for me spindled around me
like a little moat of clouds
of hot, fresh steam
that balanced eagerly
in pure thin air.

Love is death

Let the pain roll off my back
Into the sand my blood drops
My dreams go with the wind
My laughter sounds in hell

The knife you shoved into my back
Cuts into my heart
Until everything spills from inside me
Down I go
Spiral out of control
ceaseing to be

Watch as blood gushes from my mouth
As my heart bleeds through my skin
I fall to the ground
Look up at you and say
Your love was just my death in
a pretty disguise

HINTS OF WINTER'S END

Maple buds are now brick red
scattered through a copse of trees
with warmth mixing into a cold breeze
spring time must be just ahead
winter's song is nearly done

A robin and one lone blue jay
hopping about bare limbs and ground
both hoping food will soon be found
on this bright and windy day
beneath a yellow mid-day sun

Beech trees now their dead leaves expel
crimson blooms upon a red bud tree
that's bent and muted just like me
dogwood buds starting to swell
the return to life has now begun

The Darkest Winter

The darkest winter, ever
never felt so damned alone,
these growing pains are crippling
hope it's worth it when I'm grown;

this winter brought more gravity
at least, that's how I feel,
this burden of first-hand knowledge
leaves an icy chill, that's real!

Folks say that they understand
it's a lesson we must all learn,
fate merely granted ambiance
when it finally was my turn.

I Was...

Ghosts of who we were
Strength made from our yesterdays
Where our memories are blurred

Left to our own devices
We fabricate gracefully
Making truth work harder still

Living longest I can kneel
At the altar then
And no one can deny me

"rule of the mob" Demokratia

`

your name
still
another thousand
memories fill.

your voice
lifts
clear above chimneys
forever shrill.

your form
cryptic silhouette
of faceless clocks' idyllic
secrets spill.

your gait
saunters
deftness on pointe --
pleuritic thrill.

`

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