Join the Neopoet online poetry workshop and community to improve as a writer, meet fellow poets, and showcase your work. Sign up, submit your poetry, and get started.

Home

Community News

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.

 

Occupied

So, here
We are
They say so. So, I guess so too.
I’ll go with that. We are here, apparently.
A plasma membrane, and a billion years,
Boom, this consciousness writing on a laptop, a poem.
Or, maybe
It’s something else --
A third thing
Reaching in – the will, free
Reaching down deep
Low in me
Tugging at my guts
Across the edge of the universe
Through an atomic black sea
Piercing the fabric of matter
Through my skin
Settling in my shabby, ratty existence

Boardwalk

His wooden legs soaked his feet into the sloshing
salty water. His body lifting up a board to walk
on. Sheets of purple lights drowned its slumber
with their glow.

A theatre of marine air mixed
with thalassic crabs and briny seafaring lobsters
sailed, filling are nostrils.

Strolling past we were met by a
turbulence of screaming pink lungs pirouetting
on a blur of neon lights on fair rides.

At the Bottom

It curls into my head
like cigarette smoke
above a whiskey glass,
Settle on ice;
you cannot stay
so cold forever.
You have to look down
from the ledge
to see how far
you’d fall,
to see how small
of a step it is
to think twice.

Bootstrap Escape (finally home)

no longer my home
the family I once knew
seat of betrayal
this place where I grew

shame and denial
covered up deeds
of lust and hatred
that killed tender seeds

fear of exposure
created cover-up lies
shattered the spirit
until innocence dies

I left them behind
no memories to save
regrets aplenty
for all that I gave

as much as an orphan
sets off on her own
spurred by abuses
unable to condone

Septembers denial!

Flying flippant, flailing
wild fouling.
My son tried out foot ball
a week or two.

I knew it went wrong
when he came home crying.
He gave up that summer
in some ways me too.

Next summer was hot
so he tried out for baseball.
He wanted to pitch,
but I had to work to do.

I saw a few games,
but again he was crying.
Trying to pitch
was a thing for a few.

Our family was beaten down
soon my boys chose new schools.
I tried to console
there was naught I could do

written September 19th, 2018, and following words still ring (more true) today – exactly six years later.

The then forty fifth prez
of United States of America
best get sent packing
to Lake woebegone
forced to coexist amidst University
of Pennsylvania Dutch
men in breeches
(May Apple lie)
swampy netherlands awash
with bipedal hominid

Dinner time

Metal spoons ping
The thud of a pot drops in the sink
I hear chopping and stirring
The oven door is closing
I know these sounds
My Mom is making dinner
And soon I’ll be called down from my room

I notice I’m hungry -
Right on time
As the smells move up, and up
Until I drop my pencil
And go see what she’s making
I hope it’s that Roast
I asked for
When she asked me what sounded good

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

INVADED BY ROCKETS

Exploding bottle rockets, sirens
detonating the darkest of blue blanket
starless night
a fusion of bursting brightness

of a Multichromatic flamboyant sky
and beaming jazzy clouds

Enrapturing kids holding white
hot glaring sticks making shapes,
wrapped up safe guarding mothers
gazing up filling their eyes with
pyrotechnic bursting missiles.

Dust Blue Daisies

I never did find
the great wide open
where the city skyline dissipates
into watercolour hues.
I stood out on the edge,
wooden arrows tried to
dictate my direction,
but the words were all wrong.

And the dust blue daisies
grew around me
when I lost my mind.
I let the world pass me by
so I could break
where no one could see.

Pages

(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.