Best Nod Poems
Preposterous and illogical things
proffered as fact. Unwilling to be fought,
politely we nod. In time the lie clings.
Why hold to reason when we can be taught?
It’s fashion to question the foundation.
Even the small things we once thought were sure,
now discarded without hesitation.
Our observations aren’t trusted as pure.
So, we take our pills or drink our best wine.
Eventually the angst rolls away.
Relieved what we’ve witnessed was not a sign,
we can embrace a more "enlightened" day.
Make way for the new, let all else be tossed!
Reason suspended, how much could it cost?
Please take off your shoes, you've entered into
The land of Nod Off And Forget
Where people try to get something done
But haven't done it yet
They forget why it is they're here
And nod off in between
They can't remember much of life
Because they sleep through the whole thing
They made for themselves a ruler
But nodded off during the vote
Forgetting who it was they chose
When it was they all awoke
So they wander around aimlessly
Not having figured it out quite yet
I'm not sure they ever will
In the land of Nod Off And Forget
She sees herself suddenly as a small girl
bare feet on the cold black and white tile
little toes curled
sees the white porcelain tub and
how pretty the light blue water was
so deep it almost came to her chin
as she climbed in
For hours she'd play with her dime store sailboat
loving it though it would hardly float
always taking on water
listing, never level
her wet skinny back hunched over
shoulder blades like primordial wings
every few minutes she'd have to shake the thing
Trying desperately not to break the spell
of pretend
and when
it was time to let the water out
she'd always stay to watch the water drain
weighing the emotional pain
both fascinated and horrified,
as the suction intensified,
by the force of the water
the unstoppable slaughter
waiting for the inevitable rotation
to begin
the dizzying spin
Slowly at first growing faster and faster
a miniature cyclonic water disaster
The dime store boat of course on its side
circling faster in the relentless tide
Then the drain would give a horrible belch
much satisfied with itself.
As she grew the tub got smaller
with shallower water
less and less room
for pretend to bloom.
Years later, dime store sailboat long forgotten,
life having been mostly rotten
working with the most cynical of cynics
ER nurses bitter that it's more like a clinic
runny noses and coughs that folks thought were urgent
working hard to save those who were truly emergent
Hearing from them the phrase: "circling the drain"
memories suddenly flooding the brain
almost able to feel herself as that young girl
watching the sailboat beginning to swirl
Feeling the blood drain, face going pale
she sees vividly the boat with its bright red sail
yellow hull and blue plastic deck
fine hairs rising on the back of her neck
She realizes now the fatigue of age
is from fighting the pull with defiant rage
The closer you get, the faster you spin
and soon the dark whirlpool draws you in
With a knowledge that seems to be purely primal
she now understands the downward spiral
And she knows that she will not put up a fight
she'd rather go silently in the dark of the night
And the dime store boat comes to rest on its side
so it's all come full circle at the end of the ride.
SADNESS
©Danielle White
How sweet are the messages of affirmation,
Enhancing our self-image when we are down
Often providing reason for contemplation,
But should not be worn like a golden crown.
To give someone else a simple feel-good nod
Elevates the spirits of both giver and receiver,
Now and then, everyone deserves that laud
Being noticed for being a creative achiever.
Affirmation gives a special boost to the poet
For most poets are their own harshest critics,
And if we do not give them the praise of merit
How can they know we appreciate their lyrics?
When we feel good about a poem, let’s share it
For we all hope our works will a notice inherit.
Written July 19, 2022
Do not go gentle into that good night
of darkness, blight, and disease;
rage, rage against the hour of midnight—please,
with all of your might
until I am at ease!
Do not go gentle into that good night
of solemn, irrevocable sleep;
rage, rage against the wooing of the permanent Deep!
Come to me and to the light—
or else I shall bitterly weep!
Do not go gentle into that good night
of the ebb of your power;
rage, rage against the withering of your beautiful flower!
Deny eternal rest its right
to come before that fateful hour!
Do not go gentle into that good night
that takes you before the day's done;
rage, rage against the gradual dying of your sun!
Before the end's almost within sight,
fight, fight, so life's still defiantly won!
A mother is your first line of defense
The general who always leads the charge
She'll look right through your pleas of innocence
Then dress your wounded spirit, in her arms
How wise she is, to know when to correct
At times will even hand down discipline
Demanding daily, that you learn respect
Then nightly, ask forgiveness for your sins
And when the dreaded day comes, she is gone
You're left to fight without her by your side
Her wisdom and her love still carry on
Her compass will remain, to be your guide
My loving mother was a gift from God
I pray He passes on, this grateful nod.
by Daniel Turner
in memory of my loving mother
Along ta derry ga de hance
‘til dawn we sit, amid, astance.
And once the full moon rises on’t
Da mid awhorl doth all we want.
But soon ta blacken brot a gri,
wit stil da crackon akabree--
And once t’gin ta ram da moot
Dow noland farce th’ wil ka soot!
A packa shoon curl tabard sheath
And when we drather forka beeth,
Is wan ‘taback the cabbarth shoe
Around about will strike the moon.
The will soon eddy wine dak crown,
To ramble on the turtle drown.
We pounce upon the blackened brot
‘twas crackon gole th’ trei be shot!
As Winter Flees Giving Spring A Begrudging Nod
As winter flees giving Spring a begrudging nod
So the farmer waits to turn over life giving sod
Mother Nature, bows to Heavenly hand of God
Summer too, waits to embrace racing feet unshod
Young lads dancing forth with live bait and fishing pole
With promise of joy and food from fav fishing hole.
As life in enchanting mysterious ways
Sallies ever onward into those flowing days
So shall winter return to blanket earth with cold
We should give thanks we came from God's Heavenly mold.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-29-2022
Rhyme
Note: 1
When the light has been gifted and the heart wakes to see its power. Joy enters and falls like a blessed Spring shower.
Note: 2
My first in a while. Ablessing was gifted me this day- and that gift birthed this new creation, God works miracles and sees every fallen sparrow.
In the land of Nod lived a man named Bob
Some people described him as a bit of a slob
His undies were soiled
People recoiled
At the sight of this fellow, a strange sort of a knob
© Jack Ellison 2015
Winkin Blinkin And Nod, Sans...
Wonderful World Of Dreamland Furloughed!
Hours elapsed since I did sleep off
and feed my belly from the trough.
What...the...creaking screech re: sound
ding, (an unexpected pro noun
sub bull mashup attributed
to partial government shutdown
point middle finger at dented prez clown.)
The night of my spectacularly
exhausting seventh birth,
I dreamt about an amazing fictitious place,
and taint nope pull lace on Earth
cozily warm like a wood burning hearth
where embers snap,
crackle, and pop with mirth
best show in shutterfly REM
hmm...memory wool worth
(at least for near future) stayin alive
whiskey indeed no comparison, dip pin dive
ving into subconscious realm, and drive
ving devotees mad, 'specially when bing
a barf hull lie ("FAKE"),
thus wide awake temper
aerily perhaps til five
(more minutes), when buzz zee as bee hive
honey combed noggin will cease to jive,
and crown jewel will suddenly seize
gnome hatter, hatter how hard I strive
to stay awake
for no particular rhyme, nor reason
won during, how far
this chap can push himself to break
king point, which presently me make
foolish poem just to slake
hun heed to slather palaver
which yukon leave or take,
since essentially nary a clue
handy dan dee blues zee drew
pea senseless blather
basically (AWOL) din flue
zee brooked stream of consciousness
writing whatever zaps glue
pee bobbing sponge with grayish hue
cranking out words as they snap,
crackle and pop to this Jew
dishy us scrivener knew
dulling in an attempt
to splash unexpurgated lue
nah see gobbledygook, yes
sigh hug gree quite loo
pee, yet this long
(in the dent chord tooth) fell hoo,
he experiences silly (NOT solid) state
ready to moo
myself to supine pose new
matter, an unusual burst
of energy recharged
ordinarily inactive cerebral queue,
hence maximization left no time to rue
rationality upended in
frenetic attempt to spew
until...capacity to type another letter
sputters, a dog send to you
and all otter readers within
the webbed whirled wide human zoo!
my meaning of life’s tacitly acknowledged ~ then mutely understood
By
David Kavanagh
Ran on a nod
No
Nod and ran
Or
Ran and nod
No
Darn
Ronda
In a faraway land
In a cottage of stone and sand
Live Mr and Mrs Nod
Follow the winding path
Deep into the woods
To a cottage sweet though odd
On the way woodland animals play
In colourful knitted clothes
A rabbit passes by
With a twinkle in his eye
And a big twitching nose
The cottage is small and cosy
Warm with the sweet smell of baked pie
A fire crackles and burns brightly
Where two sleeping dogs lie
The Nods are by the fire
In their rocking chairs
Smiling faces
Chubby red cheeks
Both with crisp white hair
Mr Nod is reading
As Mrs Nod knits
Hurriedly clicking her needles
Making colourful animal outfits
The kettle quietly whistles
Ready for continual cups of tea
Accompanied by relaxing chatter
In this moment …..
There is no place I’d rather be
The Nods are enchanting
They radiate peace and happiness
So calm and relaxing
No concerns, no stress
I visit The Nods every evening
My favourite part of the day
Depending on how I feel
Dictates how long I stay
Good night….Sleep tight!
the job
sucks
the mob
lusts
the friend
ends
the man
aches
the future
leaps
the girl
waits
for the god
to once again nod
NORTH OF NOD
I ran into Eve last night and she’s just doing fine.
She lives north of Nod now out by the Cain county line.
She said she didn’t miss paradise and that she would rather be
bound to her decisions than in Eden fearful of a tree.
She said the serpent had it right the forbidden fruit unleashed
the powers of her intellect that were outlawed to her reach.
And when she took a look around she saw an atmosphere
where enlightenment was sin and superstition was revered.
She said, “if the ground’s unfertile then the sin is not to go
and look for greener pastures where the seeds of wisdom grow.”
So she made her exit and is committed to a lease
in some pleasant patch of otherwise where she feels at peace.
She’s learning something new each day and says it’s really nice
to roam around the garden and taste the fruits of life.
Now you can argue endlessly what is wrong and right
and debate eternally the consequences of that bite.
But there’s no going back there and as far as I can tell
we’re the one who makes this place a paradise or hell.
She said, “if the ground’s unfertile then the sin is not to go
and look for greener pastures where the seeds of promise grow.”