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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.

 

Angst Of A Poet!

Pangs of Wilderness!

I stray into the midst of a misty night,
Awaiting the storm of life
That ends like a tsunami,
Into the pangs of the wilderness

My fellow beings,
Alight from the dreamy day journey
Say fare the well to me,
As I take off
To the end of eternity

The wilderness now beckons’ me,
Come where the need is,
To stay now down there
As you fail thy self

SPACE GATE

Powered by the blackened sun
the UFO race long since began,
Secret base given numbers
accusations of unwarranted influnence.

A dark cloak of misspent power
exists, persists, evolves and resists,
This flight of fancy ignites my morbid
curiosity at terminal velocity.

A national security agency dwelling high
above the powers that be, first contact
not know plausible deniability extended
when the truth not know by the elected.

SILENCE

She sits quietly as
we wait at her door
pensive, languishing
without anticipation
of more

resignation
is related
without the resentment,
a gentle acknowledgement -
baptismal rain for the repentant

she alights on the mind
bringing quietude to the soul,
acceptance is her acquaintance -
who's only just
become known.

9 November, '10

Dark

Dark

I penetrate your eyes, searching
The dark corners of your mind
The ones you try too hard to disguise

I contemplate your face, staring
At the dark spaces deep within
The ones you try so hard to replace

Dancing in Hell, in the blackest dark
Gyrating to cause a flaming spark

Dancing with the Devil, in the darkest black
There's no light, to find your way back

I infiltrate your eyes, hunting
Those dark places in your head
The ones you try too hard to hide

FISHING BEAVER PONDS ( EDIT)

A mile walk through muggy July woods
standing dead timber draws nearer
as we reach the marshy shore
of our flooded destination

We wade wearing tennis shoes and jeans
into water whose coolness is welcome
and whose familiar depths are known

Incantations

One single voice cries in the night
Bless me Father for I have sinned
I’ve traded my soul
For one night of lust

Another answers
To whom do you pray
To save what is now mine

Amid the writhing creatures chants
The vile stench of the dead and dying
Permeates her nostrils
As gasps for air are heard
To what end have I come
All for the sake of wanting
Was it worth
This!

Incantations to the Dark One
Rise as I fall
Deeper and deeper

Daughter

Full of dreams
becoming real,
her life reveals itself
in tiny gleaming wonders
sparkling jewel-like
from our talks,

for when doubt rises
from painful awareness
of adulthood new-acquired
I am whom she seeks
to find the answers
that she thinks
she needs,

and when she talks
I listen,
astonished at this woman
my child has become,
grateful she still asks
questions she already
has answers for,
and proud she still asks me.

Religiosity of Religion

Religiosity of Religion

This is neither
A poem nor is it prose
But a combination
I suppose
Let’s see how it goes.

The oldest religion was
Lord’s Krishna’s
Where he had specified
That he was Time
The sun was God
So Time is God.

Also Lord Rama gave
A sample of equality and love
To ones family
Obeisance to the elderly
Justice in reality
Even to ones very own family

Of What Shall I Write?

.
shall I write of trees?
gorgeous, as foreground or backdrop
to visions of life
fueling imagination
and heartfire

or write of the sea?
drowning one in depth
of emotion and tears
hoping to add one more drop
to its enormity

or shall I write of the sky?
whew! the view!
endless endless endlessly
to leave you draining
into a puddle of
discombobulation

terminal velocity

Drenched in heavy morning rain
Like an arctic soaking to the vein;
I just sat there stunned and wordless,
by the results of endless tests.

Only do I seek the scoffer's sympathy;
my litanies dot the bottom of this timpani.
No restaurant on high street offers...
Whoa! I found where my sanity rests:

A very comforting hand takes mine,
The other hand by her child as well.
I draw dry ice sculptures in my mind,
While a hawk’s screech rings overhead.

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