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Neopoet Weekly 09/01/24 to 09/07/24

This Week’s Winner is Trail

 

Echoes

 

Once there was a man
Who wrote beautiful music
He wrote the music because he was sad
He was sad because he was all alone

But he was noticed for his music
He ended up being loved for it
And in being loved
He lost his sadness
And his music soon after

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

Autumn Arrival Image Prompt Contest

 

 

 

Read the finalists for the Autumn Arrival Image Prompt Contest and vote for your favorite poem. Voting will end September 19th, 2024. Best of luck to our finalists

 

Image Link

 

 

Autumn Rain

By Punkyfrewster

Drops pelt the
fallen leaves
bringing to mind
tears falling
over beauty
and lost love.

Rain bounces
off the
confetti on the
ground like
the damaged end
of a party.

 

 

Autumn's Cusp

By scribbler

Mid October a cool day
with a northern cooling breeze.
All hints of summer gone away.
The few green leaves are just a tease.

Tomorrow will bring the first frost
so this day finds me 'neath the trees
absorbing warmth before its lost
and limbering up titanium knees.

For I'm not what I once was.
Time has seen that I am not,
So I sit on a stump to take a pause
and breathe autumn's scent which I'd forgot.

Then turn my face up to the sky
as cool front winds begin to blow.
I watch the clouds as they race by.
They leave like friends I used to know.

My eyes water from sun's glare
so I drop my head down to my chest
letting my chin settle there
while I count the ways that I am blessed.

I'm blessed with our cabin in the trees
I'm blessed with seeing one more fall.
I'm blessed with grandchildren to tease.
I'm blessed with being here at all.

I watch a squirrel climb to its nest
for now the sun is getting low
so ere' it reaches ridge's crest
I arise then turn and go.

 

                                                                                               Vote Here

August 2024 Contest Winners

The Winner of the Peace Versus War is Lavender  with the following poem

To Those Who Walked, Peace Versus War

 

I hope you have a quiet day,
a kissing breeze,
sweet hours at ease
planting flowers, if you please,
and nothing there to rip it all away.
I hope you have that day.

I pray you have a gentle night,
under stars so deep
they soothe and keep
your soft breath flowing as you sleep
beneath the crescent moon and her earthlight.
I pray you have that night.

And may your memories be amended
to blissful skies and green earth, so splendid
that they embrace you when you close your eyes.
May this be the rich life you come to realize.

To those who walked through the blood of yesternight,
I hope for you this day. I pray for you this night.

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

The Winner of the 08/24 Too Good to be True  is Punkyfrewster with the following poem

Too Good to be True

 

In my mind, it was bliss
day in and day out
until the day it ended.

In the rearview mirror,
I saw signs:
far-off gazes to nowhere
as we ate dinner
and stalled conversations
about your day.

All the bliss aside,
our love was just
too good to be true.

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

The Winner of the 08/24 I Lost The Instructions is Candlewitch   with the following poem

 

I Lost The Instructions (to being a woman)

 

I Lost The Instructions
(to being a woman)

You beat "Her" out of me
leaving my soul tattered.
In the beginning you were kind
warm and jovial, it mattered.

Gradually you began to change
taking me away from all I knew,
from Minnesota to the east coast
an easy ride we drove straight through.

I discovered your evil temper
on our trip, it left me in fear,
knocking me down, kicking me
you bellowed, shouting, making it clear.

You were the boss, and me your slave
seeing the cruel glint in your eye
was an omen of what was soon to come
you would test me in ways to make me cry...

Each new day was a promise of terror
you invented head-games to play.
In fear, I trembled trying to hide
tried not to anticipate the rue of the day.

nights were bad too, I cowered under covers
You brutalized me sexually to hear me scream
threatening to blow my head off my shoulders
losing connection with my idea of a woman's dream!

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

The Winner of the 08/24 Broken Air Condition is Kristen H. with the following poem

Broken Air Condition

 

We never had much more than each other
in the summer of 2016

Adventures on Saturday nights
Two wheels
Two helmets
Two hearts

Lazy Sunday mornings
Two cups of coffee
Two cigarettes burned
Two hands together

There wasn’t much to it
Just you and I,
and our broken air conditioner

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

The Winner of the 08/24 Beach Day is  paleoray with the following poem

 

Shore Watch

 

Splashing, crashing sound the waves
On the surf and then retrieve;
As the foam spreads on the sand,
While the pipers dash and weave.

High above the seagulls glide,
Circling 'round a sea of teal;
Others swooping close to pier,
Looking for an easy meal.

In the distance dolphins dive,
With their synchronizing breaks;
Dorsal fins shine at each peak,
Then they submerge in their wakes.

Sand crabs scurry back and forth,
Seeking food along the shore;
After catching fish with claws,
Quick they vanish as they bore.

Soon the sun sets in the west,
As the moon brings mirrored light;
Ocean tides smooth out the sand,
While the waves gleam through the night.

 

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

The Winner of the Neopoet Weekly 08/25/24 to 08/31/24 is Twizzle48 with the following poem

 

WINTER COMETH

 

Do you hear winter, I hear it coming
That distant growl, there in the wind
Stronger now, than an autumn breeze
With the merest hint of an early freeze
And with no sweet taste like tamarind
But a biting cold that can be numbing

For some, it is a season for celebration
But its hidden scowl suggests otherwise
Hearing threats under its frozen breath
Of ice and snow, laying so still in death
Pretty snowflakes offering cute disguise
As so much of Nature is in hibernation

At least this is true in Northern climes
Just bleak with not much give and take
And still, some try to understand why
As the end of the calendar year is nigh
But there is hope following in its wake
Anticipating the Spring’s warmer times

To leave an additional comment on the contest page click here

 

 

 

 

 

Neopoet Weekly 08/18/24 to 08/24/24 Winner!

This Week’s Winner is  Sen99

 

Venus Tree

Standing here for decades
On one wooden leg
A native English species,
An old grey oak.
Its naked bark bleached,
Ashen white like alabaster.

A nameless uncarved block
Unyielding and proud,
Exposed to the elements.
Wind and weather beaten
An organic body of life
Its beauty gaunt and raw.

Striking to an admirer’s eye,
Picture perfect from a distance
A resilient stone sculpture,
Its arms cut down to stumps.

Like some replica of a classical statue
From some ancient age,
Nature’s beauty,
A timeless art.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

Glass of yesteryears

Harrowingly
holding up
a glistening
golden glazed
glass of yesteryears
above a
withering wishful
world of
blackened blood worn tears.
Looking down
the leisurely
limping line
whilst wondering
what I would
leave behind. Footsteps
seeping
into the solemn
ground worned
with age never to
be found .

Dead Poets

Poets are damned to live and die
beneath this sacrilegious sky.
They pen their petty piece of rhyme
They’re slaves, so they must steal the time

to pour themselves upon the page.
(They couldn't work without a wage!)
They hate to focus on themselves.
Their lives lie shattered on sad shelves.

They seek some kindly eye to see
(a heart in love with poetry!)
A kindred kind with selfsame soul
who’ll criticise, and yet console.

Flame

it was a beautiful flame
and it had to burn
the paper with our names
it had to wash away

each side of the coin shall always remain

Lonely Man

I had a vision of a lonely Man
Who on his shoulders weight was laid
With every sadness that sorrow can
That in his eyes was Spirit made

To capture time and tame the rage.
His pouting mouth formed early age
But in his blood he sought the fight
And always knew a sense of right.

I read his words and heard the shout,
“Not yet will I turn about!”
I looked long for him, his never die
And found him in the wind’s dark sigh.

Prometheus and Pandora

The creator of mortals, but only of men it is said...
Instigator through portals, of many flames blue to red.
Punished by Zeus, his liver a feast for the birds,
Left alone and not heard, but actions are louder than words.

The epitome of honour, eternal pain to help men
Out of the fire came knowledge, progress, and then ..
Pandora opened a jar, out flew much evil and sin
From then women were shamed, the men would win.

THE BEACH

Tattooing Biscuit coloured
Backs with haphazardly soul
sunken prints, feet bars getting
kissed by rolling rushing turquoise
waves with white foamy caps.

Its froth briny toungue pushing
out jellyfish and crab cones
Weightless driftwood surfing
aimlessly, sheets of golden

light rebounded off the sluggish
warm highway sea.

THE BULLY

THE BULLY

Being a bully is a state of mind
Not always physical you’ll find
Nor even aggressive behaviour
I wonder, who needs a saviour
And who’s the real victim here
Bullies are bullied it may appear

Yet is this all psychological fluff
Those affected have had enough
Not long before one might snap
And react with more than a slap
To pursue a permanent solution
Finally ending all the persecution

Muted

When I'm in a depressive phase
the whole world gets duller
like everything is muted and grey

music no longer sends chills up my spine

I can't concentrate on anything
long enough to satisfy my senses

I can't read or watch TV
or even write...

I just lie in bed
existing
waiting
for the voices to quiet enough
that I can sleep

Meeting Destiny

Logs crossed to meet
their fiery destiny.
twigs added
to aid the match.
Failing, the logs
are bathed in fluid
to make their future
come in the form of light
and the scent of smoke.
People ring the bonfire
with marshmallows
on metallic sticks to be wed
with chocolate and
graham crackers.

Poetically Crude

For the cloak of spontaneity,
Is often born of impropriety,
Lest...
A heart withers to form a wisecrack in character.

True to the core.

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