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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.

 

There Was a Time

There Was a Time

WINTER GALE ( edited)

Only the bravest, strongest birds
dare go aloft on such a day
a breeze which whispered now shouts its words
making trees bow deep and sway

The wind which once sighed through tall pines
now strips last leaves from old oak trees
breaking large limbs, snapping small vines
while bending cypress to their knees

It blows the woods' duff into drifts
while lifting harvest's chaff to skies
where all the clouds are rife with rifts
and dust peppers my squinting eyes

Kaleidoscope

The kaleidoscope of events
was the life that passed
well planned strategies of life
that were expected to occur,
have fallen short of dreams
that were held while still
a bright eyed youth

To have thought that achievements
would come by simply working hard
then to realize
dreams are but made of vapors
which seem to pass like clouds
all that's left behind is the reality
of standing in the light

Crimson of Fear

`

Invisible but not voiceless,
This fire within me burning;
Fueled by things long since done;
Uncertain it would continue
And most certainly would one day end.

Resounding vermillion trains,
Travelling across frontier lands;
That began by fits and starts.
But this is just the beginning,
And most certainly is not the end.

Smearing the silence with my thoughts:
Scarlet ink on blue paper;
Conversing along the lines;
Uncertain it would continue,
And most certainly would one day end.

craps shoot at thought café

craps shoot at thought café

in backroom
at the thought café
game of craps
was ongoing for as long
as I recall.

most of the regulars
were there with
their money folded
long ways between
middle and ring fingers.

action was a little
slow, and regulars
were looking for new
meat.

they looked my way,
and I shook my head, no
and said, “I don’t gamble.”

“why are you smoking that
damn pipe and drinking
cabernet?” they asked.

Through my Eyes

Through my eyes

You say you don’t feel beautiful
And you’re not the girl you were
You look into the mirror
It seem that things have changed

But baby,
you need to see what I see
And know you’re still the beauty
You’ve always been
Through my eyes

Don’t trust your eyes
For they only lie
I see how others look at you
And they want you as I do

So baby,
you need to see what I see
And know you’re still the beauty
You’ve always been
Through my eyes

REBORN

I suddenly came to be
me
an individual
some say unique among myriad
white brethren

Having no religion or direction
I drift in a seeming random route
only connecting with others
by short -lived accident
from which I rebound

The short duration of

my brief lifetime

spirals slowly

inevitably

down

Until at last my beauty crashes
as I join my fellows who fell before me
and mingle with others once unique
in an ephemeral blanket
of a southern snow fall

which melts

Thy Voice May!

Thy Voice May!

If these be

Thy kind words

Of earnest poetic ecstasy

Rise along with the Phoenix

And abide with me

Of that I’m certain

God shall return thy voice to thee.

You shall in time walk

Along with me

But by then

I would be standing isolated

At the threshold of eternity

From where no man

Can ever return

Know this ye.

For I continue to be

A naïve passer by

Retain your love for some one else

I am only a finger

To help erase strife

eyes

eyes

eyes hold you there
applause subsides
auditorium empties

another night
another show
whispers heard backstage

stage door creaks on
rusted hinges --
opening, allows players' exit

alleyway awake with footsteps
summer moths flutter naked light-bulbs
on aging brick walls -- casting eerie shadows

shuffle a dozen shoes
to street beyond
on the way for a coffee or drink

aura of performance just played fades --
just ahead of lightning and thunder
actors reach the street

From Where it all Comes

"Muse I"

He comes gently
I hear him in my dreams
gives me inspiration
tells me I can fly.
Softly fleeting whispers
I try to catch the quiet
hold it tightly in my hands
till morning
when on paper
I can write,
making inaudible
whispers come to life.

"Muse II"

Seemingly coming from nowhere
these words that I find
dark, forgotten somewhere
beneath clutter in my mind.

Pages

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