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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 Old Wing Chair

In the corner,
Arms curved out to hold,
Wooden hands protruding,
Stretching and resting,
From its sea green damask clothes,
Its legs slightly bending,
Clawed to the rug below,
Awaiting, making room,
For two if one was small,
To be there snuggled in a lap,
When happy or when sad,
Now worn in spots,
With traces in its threads,
Of all the times it held them,
A father and a son,
Who now grown gazes down upon it,
And imagines he’s still little,
Standing looking up,

A Boy with a Hissing Heart

Stair-step stacks
of hardbacks, paperbacks
and journals silhouette
against cloudy gray light
seeping from outside.

Numerous mentors
say read poems,
journals, and novels
learn to form beautiful poetry.

He labors through
anthologies of sonnets,
sestinas and free verse.

Collins, Levine, Kooser,
Nash and Oliver call him to lessons.
He is not a schoolboy.
He has a hissing heart,
writing is entrancing,
pulling forth a storehouse
of secreted pains, passions, and fears.

Misunderstanding ( a co-write with Hooded Stranger)

We had a misunderstanding .
How can men and women
Feel the same and yet be so different
She said

We lacked the comprehension
To understand how women and men can
Blame each other when they're really both the same
He said

We walked into the room with fire-arms pointing
And took our places on the battle ground
You in your corner and I in mine
She said

We marched in the room with fingers on triggers
We stood our ground on the battle field
Not giving an inch on either side
He said

Toxic

Foul stench of self importance,
The air so thick , It coats the back of the throat
choking you on the rancid hatred and derision.

Gasping, fighting for breath amongst the putrid smell ,
of ego, ambition,
and dead hope.

Festering skank riding an odorous wave
of arrogant dross,
bilious heap of filth.

Open the sluices and flush
It all out.
Expunge the stain.

Profanity

Profanity

You scream out your blackened lungs at me
Spitting toxic saliva across the room
Your voice amplifies as utter rage takes a hold
You wait for a reaction, but my facade is stone cold

Why you so angry and out of control?
Have my actions finally taken their toll?
I stand firm against your abuse
Your outburst has no excuse

Your use of profanity
Tries to break my sanity
But I am stronger than you think
Your evil words will not bring me to the brink

Not yet

I try to be original, candid, funny and honest
Knowing if I can not trust, I can not be trusted
My biggest obstacle to connecting being myself
Knowing this is only half my battle I fight each day
Each careful line breathing meaningless impotence
Still unwilling to share what used to be second nature
I lost it amongst the Dragon’s, Elves and fairy folk
A feeling of insignificance buried in the tall grass’s
Disenchanted with the chains of old familiarity
What’s to be expected when I can not disconnect?

Crossroads

We walk down the dark roads,
The dark halls that lead
A path to where I hoped it will
Definitely lift my being:
Into the arms of your nourishment
And redeeming.

We climb the steepest hills,
The valleys that echo our voices
Where I yelled a thousand names, which
Only one name answers back
My calls of grief, woe
And misgiving.

Our Hill at Night

Under the stars of night
we sit, with wind blowing,
and the moon gleaming bright.
That was its way of showing
that everything here was just right.

The music comes out and out
just as you strum about.
It all flows as if it were water,
like love of mother and daughter...
Smooth, without any doubt.

Your name is Kayla, so light.
It floats off the tongue, just right.
You play the guitar all the time,
And I write lyrics with a rhyme,
So we sit and sing in the thyme.

"VALENTINE"

"VALENTINE"
Margaret Ann Waddicor
14th February 2011.

Valentine oh my Valentine,
you tear my heart out
tend it like a precious jewel,
yet you dare not say to me
you love me true,
what shades of fancy now detain
your boldness, youth,
your face is young and just begun to change,
into the knight.

Valentine Valediction

Valentine Valediction

We sigh and weep for Love that's true,
Well, some of us; I don't, do you?
Love is the nature of us all,
With Lover's pride before a fall.

In searching for True Love we find
A dislocation of our mind;
A deep psychosis of our brain,
Who cares! for here we go again.

We find a girl who fills our dreams,
Are unaware of all her schemes.
And as the dream turns to nightmare
We're left with half a house - but where?

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