Best Pester Poems
Goodnight my dear boy and what's that you say?
You want me to chase the bad monsters away?
Well, I'll tell you a tale that may just be true
And if it's made up, it is done just for you...
I know you're afraid of the dark and the gloom
When you lie wide awake all alone in your room
'Scardy cats prowl and their tattle-tales pester
Goose bumps may prickle and worry-warts fester
Shadow-ghosts creep up and crawl to your cover
You roll on your side but then you discover
The thump in your pillowcase whispers too loud
So here's what I've done and I know you'll be proud...
I've met with the monster man under your bed
He thinks you will find he is not much to dread
He just needs a friend and to know that you care
So if you reach down he'll shake hands from his lair
I've found where that boogie man hides in the wall
He's cramped and alone and he waits for your call
He believes you're convinced he is ugly and mean
And hold him to blame when you have a bad dream
Your monster man's fierce and has razor-sharp teeth
But he understands things that may stir underneath
Your boogie man knows what you don't want to find
And what's around corners and hidden behind...
They'd like to come out and tell you a story
(Perhaps something scary but nothing too gory)
Sit up and talk with them late into night
Come morning they'll gladly slip back out of sight
But at night they'll grow strong to protect like they should
To face down your fear and show evil what's good
Stand watch while you sleep, they will stay by their mark
If you wake you might catch their eyes glow in the dark...
It's then as you grow you may find you walk bolder
With two fearsome friends striding close by your shoulders
They'll go anyplace as a general rule
(But maybe you'd better not bring them to school)
If witches and dragons can streak through the sky
Then monsters and boogie men surely must fly!
At the edge of your sleep (when you just start to doze)
Whisper the password and wiggle your toes...
And they'll sweep you away to soar like a dove
Over the rooftops to heavens above!
Up into orbit to your own private place
High on a mountaintop floating in space
Sit back and relax with a satisfied grin
Laughing and singing as you watch the earth spin
Hum along while your boogie man growls a brave tune
Count stars while your monster man howls at the moon
Categories:
pester, fantasy, love, son,
Form:
Rhyme
Sorrowful unto death
(Ecclesiastes 1:18 KJV)
He that increases true wisdom increases grief...
exposing that the knowledge of serpent did not instruct the dove,
and to know serpent knowledge is to know,
how the house of Love was divided, that sorrow is in learning,
how many there are deceived of themselves….
To be harmless as a dove is to be love,
to be of a serpentine jester is to pester,
to pester life as a jester of strife...
is to be twain in total vain.
Love is oneness of twain in a wedding garment…
The trinity of infinity is the beginning of thee,
opening the sacred heart gives one options to see,
the beauty you see inside is the essence of thee,
tis also the beauty in the nature of a tree…
the nature of life’s tree eternally…
To be is, to be, of the nature of life’s tree,
not to be, is to be, of thine own ciestrine…
Selah!
Categories:
pester, angst, nature, beauty, beauty,
Form:
Elegy
Time has come for getting tough
For I have now had quite enough
Day-after-day this kid comes 'round
To pester me like some old hound
Pelting me with day-old bread
And poking posies at my head
Calling me these cutesy names
And forcing me to kiddie games
Her silly parties, cakes and tea
Are not what they're quacked up to be
Hugging spells I've barely weathered
If not for her, I'm fully-feathered
And if you please, I've had my fill
Her painting lipstick on my bill
Now she's pulled the final straw
A rare offense of barnyard law
Spraying me with bottled water
(Soon, she'll find how far it got her)
Now it's MY turn for some fun
I'll get that chicky on the run!
Perhaps she'll learn, when run amuck -
That "NO" means nothing ... to a duck.
* FIRST PLACE in the "There Is A Brighter Side" Poetry Contest, Eve Roper, Sponsor. I have selected picture number one (#1) for my poem. *
Categories:
pester, animal, child, humor, light,
Form:
Rhyme
I'll let you go,
In the morning daylight;
I do have pain
Yet I don't want to regret.
Time is too greedy
Minute passes as a flip,
You will depart
When I wish to hold you.
I don't want to be apart,
Yet I don't pester you;
I'll leave you alone
For a little while.
My heart is too frightened
To feel the pain of separation,
I'll not tell you to stay,
I respect your dreams.
Eyes stares at beautiful times
I controlled my rolling tears,
I wish to fill you in my eyes
Stay with me for just a moment.
Just a moment of your time
Can fill our days of separation,
I just need to fill you in my dreams,
Spare me Just a moment.
25/07/2020
Categories:
pester, emotions, feelings, grief, sweet
Form:
Verse
I think about you all the time
I can't get your face
out of my mind
I've memorized your gestures, expressions
Think about you constantly
Always concerned about your well-being
wondering if you're happy.
It can be any day or night
anytime, anywhere
Thoughts of you pester my reality
Helps me relish our times together
when I see you in the flesh,
hear your voice, gaze in your eyes
It feels so natural
to be by your side, in your company
sleeping, eating, talking
Anything we do has a special significance,
an elevated sense
that our times bring delight, are unique.
We belong together.
Categories:
pester, emotions, happiness, love,
Form:
Free verse
Pressure. Oh I wish I'm not struggling to free away from under.
They continue to push down with words of threats, only bringing me down.
They think it's easy, when in fact, they only suggest the easy way out. . . they're very concern, afraid that I fail on my own; Failure.
The only way I'm going to be able to pick myself up is to fall. . . down to
my own mistakes, aches, for my own sake, this is what I need to endure, this is what I have to take.
Like them, I am also afraid, but I've come to believe in myself. Have they come to believe in me?
I ignore their blasting of rhetorical. A blank mask I put on, only to space them out, I stare at nothing while they resume to pester me with their knowledge about what I should do. In reality, they know nothing.
They compare me to others. They assume nonchalantly. They don't know me.
I feel trapped. Contained in a bubble of oppression: hindering my ability to sprout and nourish On My Own.
Perhaps, they still think I'm the little boy they once adored. They've forgotten that time aged me to this tall, slim, song bird who never stops dreaming.
Now, I'm pursuing to achieve inner peace. For that is what gives me strength, courage, and determination--whilst in the midst of the noise and trouble, I keep my composure. . . and still be calm, in my heart.
Categories:
pester, simple, slam, social, voice,
Form:
Free verse
You want to know what annoyeth me? Let me count the ways!
I could weave a veritable tapestry of all my aggravations, mostly in
light and deep crimson hues which signify the violence in my Heart.
Easily I could write a novel that reads like a laundry list of everything that
vex me to no fathomable End.
Pretentiousness, which is the ultimate Sin of Sins, maddens me more
than mere meager words can describe or accurately articulate. An example, perhaps?
Someone who claims to be a better poet than Shakespeare! Such heinous poetic heresy and blatant blasphemy! ONE WORD: HA!
Let's see...what else? Oh, how I loath- despise! an unannounced and
unexpected visitor, a "knock, knock" that sends shivers, like shards of glass,
down my disturbed spine. Yes, I know all about Jesus. No, I don't want to come to your church but I'll smile, be polite and friendly as I decline the invitation, then send you off on your merry way to pester someone else with your nonsense and throw your "literature" in the trash. I wish I lived in an impregnable fortress surrounded by a moat and guarded by ten-thousand Pinkerton Guards. They never sleep.
Driving, what a bedeviling task! Anyone remember the old video game "Spy Hunter" where your vehicle was equipped with bombs and lasers and such? How I wish my car had a machine gun or rocket-launcher turret to get everyone out of my way! Going too slow? KABOOM! Didn't use your turn signal? Ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat-t-a-t-t...-a...-t. So long, buster!
Bad hair-do's are ALMOST as sinful and unforgivable as pretentiousness. I cannot abide a bad hair-do. It's a good thing I'm not a socio/psychopathic autocrat or I would have anyone with an offensive coif shot on sight. When I was in school and big, poofy Aqua-Net shellac soaked , giant crunchy big bangs were all the rage, I took great delight in smashing those immense, granite-like monstrous and monumental mega-pompadours. Some of those do's were hard as bricks, like they were surrounded and protected by some kind of hair force-field. I demolished many a poof in my youth!
This diatribe is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. I could on and on and on and on and on and on...but I'll trail off here...
*What Annoys You Contest Entry*
JustThatArchaicPoet
Categories:
pester, anger, angst, how i
Form:
Narrative
There was a fussy old toad, yes; some might call him, a curmudgeon, at soul.
When his ladylove died, he took it in stride, and sought someone else to pester.
Eventually, he came to our lake, and jumped on the Troll Bridge, quite blazon.
Trouble in his eyes, he met the trolls, eye for eye, and with strength, blustered.
“I’m King of the Hill”, he spat out, ignoring the clubs and frowns… all about.
Grandpa Troll looked at the toad, and got ready to do battle, quickly…at that.
I chimed in, “They’re renters my dear. You’ll have to fight me, it’s clear. So dropout.”
“And I’m too worn out, for a silly old toad, who jumps like a gnat, now, scat.”
“I’ll have this bridge”, he said, “I’ll fight you anywhere, so be very, greatly, prepared.”
“I’m worn-out”, I said, “But battle we will. I’ll win! So look where you tread, instead.”
I said,“You challenged me first, so I’ll pick the test, you’ll play Grandpa Troll at Chess”.
Amazement filled the toads eyes, but to my surprise, he took the bait. Rather smart.
Now Grandpa Troll is a whittler. “I’ll commission your own home bridge, if he loses.”
“At the end of the lake, you’ll have a home place. If you lose, you’ll learn to whittle!”
The old toad looked me over, and with a frown, then ask, “What good is whittling?”
“You could make a chess board like no other, Toads verses Trolls, in war forever!”
He agreed that was quite a stake! And knew he couldn’t lose, the old reprobate!
Still he haggled, to strike a better bargain, and he Hee Hawed around for more.
Now, Grandpa Troll had never lost a game. Still we upped the ante, just the same.
“If you lose, I’ll build you a home bridge… if you teach the youngun’s, chess, instead.”
Now, he was sold! So off they did go, playing chess and whittling, by the seasons.
You know, I’m trying to be a writer, but the interruptions seem to always get harder!
So as you can see… With situations and things such as these …
I’ll just have to keep trying harder, and harder…
Categories:
pester, adventure, funny, imagination, uplifting,
Form:
Light Verse
It is
filled with happiness,
an unusual light
as transparencies
illuminate the
drastic actions
that must
be taken
to live in
the throes
of faithfulness
as you take
steps to pester
the solid walls
of inconsistency
that form
everyday glances
into the realm
of truth
that is constructed
with the dreams
of persistence
Categories:
pester, emotions, happiness, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
There are lots of ‘normal’ people that you love to meet and greet,
then there’s the ones when they get near, you try to cross the street.
You know their endless rantings will drive you ‘round the bend,
why is it that these type of folk treat everyone as friends
Now I am one of these ***** folk who pester everyone,
but friends oh no, I know the ones who’d rather I be gone.
Why is it then that I insist, to stop you all to talk
and make full sure I’ve had my say before I let you walk.
Is it because I think I know some things that you do not
or because I really feel that you like me a lot.
Maybe my thirst for knowledge is what I have to gain
or hope that you will sympathise with all my earthly pain.
You never know, maybe I think my preaching will get through
to help you lead far better lives in everything you do.
But by your faces I can tell I haven’t got there yet,
I know what you all think or me that I’m a sad old get.
So tell me why I speak to all I meet now every day
and people scatter everywhere when I am on my way.
The answers plain, now don’t you know, it isn’t just a fad,
the reasons clear for all to see…. I’m simply‘Raving Mad!’
Ivor G Davies
Categories:
pester, community, judgement, sad, self,
Form:
Rhyme
I sulk in solace by the ember’s glow
of warming hearths that temper to the bone
then wait in earnest ‘til the thaw of snow
and all the piercing winter winds have blown.
I wait the breeze that lifts each feathered wing
of vernal robins beckoning the day,
and when their songs rejoice the birth of spring,
‘tis time to store my winter quilts away.
Though such a nuisance swarms within the wake
of winter’s gloom ascending into light,
and if a taste of me they must partake,
‘tis worth the gnawing pester of their bite.
When buzzing hordes awake to spring’s retreat
to fend their sting, dare not forget the DEET.
2-11-23
Categories:
pester, angst, funny, spring,
Form:
Sonnet
For Natalia Kills
Are the majority
of things in
life controversies?
It seems like
there is always
another side
of the story
You have to
maneuver delicately
amidst the minefields
of trepidations that
pester your
daily routine
Even simple decisions
can cause angst
Who to go out with?
Where to go? When?
Others are involved
making it hard
to appease everyone
Such is life
Categories:
pester, angst, music, passion,
Form:
Free verse
Summer hath come, May blocked the sun, son, yet I know you read this Jedi
poetry.
Airwaves reek of radiation, reverberation stagnant holds no key.
Here we, hear yee, Kings of Alchemy
everyday, every way, mopping floors like janitors, scientists of style, fluidity.
Yet, have you ever seen "Good Will Hunting?" "How do ya' like 'dem apples!?!"
Faces fraught with pale, we do not understand or yet fully comprehend what it
is being accomplished here.
Still, week after week, we build this small community of ambition through
attrition. We pour out our souls...FOR WHAT? Bickering in this pan, flash
flooding through months supposedly in a drought. But, FOR WHAT"S IT ALL
ABOUT. (or Aboot, for my Canadian brother's and sisters)
I give thanks for your interaction, but will not accept judgment of the few. In
fact, purists, I will address you too, by flying high my middle finger, resisting
the itch to even edit this "worthless excuse for a poem". But I know better
than to pester you much more than that. For I too, need readers, and you're
dropping like flies in protest. Still I say: "You're pissed off, it sure beats
getting pissed on!" Perhaps the world really fades to black when everyone
stops talking of you.
There is not much I believe in firmly as the Universe/Multiverse is a million
white canvases. But I, and I do mean butt-eye believe we are waking up. My
duty involves elimination of the snooze button. If wishes were coffee, I'd stir
the world hot, and see that cups overflow with pure energy. The black veil
over our many nations needs lifted, and it's gonna take full concentration,
positive motivation, and quite possibly myriads meditating.
Amen brothers and sisters!
***
If this piece doesn't resonate, I recommend one week off from television and
or video games to improve clarity. Light becomes clear when dimming what's
dumbing you down.
Categories:
pester, america, england, seasons, social,
Form:
Epic
-I have a dilapidate imagination,
-My mental improprieties describe my intense self-incrimination.
-The accused are my thoughts and mind.
-The truly faulted is my behavior, unrefined.
-I am undefined.
-Because my self-interpretations are blind.
-There is no way to explain nor describe who, what, or when I may or may not be.
-For all anyone knows, I'm the branches of a sweet pudding pine tree.
-And so you're aware of it,
-I feel I must declare it,
-That I simply cannot bare it,
-When I hear the letter p, I must stare at it.
-And get the urge just to say,
-"Punctual porcupines peruse, penalize, and pester preposterously perfunctory parrots,"
-However, saying it aloud, I wouldn't dare it.
-But I kind of just did, contradicting, deserving of merits.
-Now leap into my thinking box,
-I swear, not another paradox.
-In here, there are no working clocks.
-No need for a watch.
-No need for anything of any kind,
-I am a prisoner of my own mind.
-Occasionally going to conjugal visits with myself.
-Me, her, and I really need help.
-Twisted mental health,
-Manically creating my own intellectual wealth.
-Check out my nerdy ninja stealth
-Sounds like "Laughter, yip-yap, squeak, and yelp,"
-Now, I can waste much more time.
-I seem plentiful in rhyme.
-However, you asked for a self portrait, so that topic I will try to pursue.
-But I don't really know what or who to introduce, do you?
Categories:
pester, anxiety, art, emotions, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
I must give you a very stern warning:
Don’t ever call me at three o’clock in the morning.
You certainly have some unencumbered effrontery.
Why at such an inconvenient time do you want to pester me?
Normal people find the time to sleep at that hour.
How would you like to take a sulfuric acid shower?
I know where you live, and I will come over to your house.
An ingrate like you is the personification of a louse.
Categories:
pester, abuse, sick,
Form:
Rhyme