Best Pestered Poems
Tussled hair, bruised knees, toothless, lop-sided grin;
Ma is so thankful her dear little imp wasn't born a twin!
She likes things running smoothly, like a finely-tuned violin,
But her little boy marches to his own drum, much to her chagrin!
To begin the day he feeds his breakfast oatmeal to the dog.
Opening a drawer, Ma lets out a screech, finding a slimy frog!
He encourages a fight between Rusty the dog and Simba the cat,
And 'round and 'round they go, in raucous heated combat!
The preacher made his periodic call and settled in his seat.
A whoopee cushion made a lewd noise, startling him to his feet!
He mumbled a hasty good-by, and headed for the door,
As the little imp, choking with laughter, rolled upon the floor!
Ma made treats for her bridge club, saying they were not his fare,
But on bridge day, lo and behold, she found the cupboard bare!
He pestered his little sister unmercifully with never any slack!
"Mommy", she screamed, "he put a slimy worm down my back!"
Tho' he drives his long-suffering mother up the wall,
She wouldn't trade him for any other little boy at all.
After his prayers at bedtime and seeing his sweet, angelic smile,
Ma plops in her chair seeking repose from another daily trial!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
pestered, childhood, little sister,
Form:
Rhyme
One afternoon fatigued I fell asleep
and dreamed of wings,
since then i have been migrating.
In my gamble of life
I have wagered my happiness,
and lost my path.
As a bird bid farewell to the leaves,
falling to the Autumn breeze.
Stretching its own wings
to a new shelter beyond the seas.
will it fare well among the trees?
or the nest be pestered by snakes.
Days passing by as a fluttering butterfly.
The wind was blowing in the wrong direction.
Heavy wings in rain, can they carry me home.
Counting the feathers from my broken wings.
By the swing of the reaper's scythe, someday
I will resign to my sweet eternal sleep in peace.
-Ravi
Categories:
pestered, farewell, fate, fear, moving
Form:
Free verse
Inspired by Deep Purple's "Mistreated" 1974
Misused, so misused I have been by you.
I can’t believe by you I was so smitten,
but now I am a poor bedraggled kitten -
one that has been nagged
and then through mud been dragged.
Nagged and pestered,
so bitterness has festered
inside me, for with my love you toyed,
then you turned around and said
I made you annoyed.
Oh babe I was so true to you.
But now I don’t know what to do.
With love for you I had been stricken.
But misused by you, I’ve just been sickened.
So cruelly teased. How have I displeased you so?
I feel like someone left diseased; diseased inside my mind.
Why oh why is love so blind?
I just keep thinking back; whatever did I lack?
By love for you afflicted, I became so damn addicted.
Always being contradicted, I’ve been left conflicted.
And now I am restricted . . . restricted from
the love for you I wanted so to show.
Why did you ever make me go?.
Misused, I’m so misused . . . abused; confused.
And now I’m going mad -
insane inside my brain.
I think it makes you glad.
Yes, I’m going mad;
insane inside my brain.
You’re glad; you’re glad; you’re glad,
and I’ve been so abused.
Losing my mind.
All that I can think of is
why oh why is love so blind?
Categories:
pestered, lost love,
Form:
Lyric
Dear Mrs Chan,
Thank you for all the things
You’ve clearly explained and shown
And even more for all that
You left me to find out on my own.
Thank you, when I pestered for an answer,
For standing your ground and holding firm –
I know you want me to explore
Because that’s the only way I’ll really learn.
Thank you for exposing me
To the subtleties of the English language
Certain connotations, small differences in meaning,
Always looking for the precise word, the precise usage.
Thank you for encouraging me
To abandon the cowardly-conventional view
To look for something
I believe in, something new.
Thank you for all the sour, unapproving frowns
You shot, threw, thrusted and sent my way
They worked wonders
To keep my illogical misconceptions at bay.
Thank you for your aptly-set standards –
A challenging but never impossibly-high wall.
You make me love a good challenge
You make me want to give my all.
Thank you for lighting up the bulbs
In my stupid little mind
When I didn’t get it, you connected the neurons manually
And occasionally unwind.
Thank you for all that you’ve done
You make History lessons so much fun.
Thank you, Mrs Chan! You’re the BEST!
Categories:
pestered, thank youme, me,
Form:
Rhyme
The old country vet traversed Henry County over hill and dell.
He was a familiar sight in his buggy pulled by his horse, old Nelly Bell!
He served farmers and ranchers for nigh on two generations,
Deliverin' calves, foals and lambs and performin' tricky operations.
He left the comfort of his bed on many a cold and blustery night,
To help a cow deliver her calf by the mellow glow of a lantern light.
He'd been kicked by cantankerous mules and butted by grumpy goats;
Spat upon by numerous llamas and trampled by chargin' shoats;
Bitten by mean old junkyard dogs and clawed by feral cats;
Gored by irate bulls and pestered by stingin' gnats!
He witnessed the miracle of birth durin' his practice of many years,
And won the confidence of his clients and the esteem of his peers.
Though he had some book learnin' he mostly taught himself.
He never aspired to become rich and had little of the world's pelf.
He recognized that God created all creatures great and small,
And suffered the hazards of the job to treat and love them all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
Categories:
pestered, animal,
Form:
Rhyme
What Lurks Within
Were it once a bright and honest form
Un-pestered by the flies now round it swarm
The purity be gone, though be deceptions fault
Un-blamed and yet desires could not halt
Offered such a power which man can only dream
And wore the coat, perfectly, seam to seam
Doomed to haunt and carry out the deeds
Unearth the weak and in them plant the seeds
Ease out the good that lives in every heart
Cause conscience and the senses fall apart
And with each take, his strength to reinforce
To change the destiny of human course
In plain sight, amongst us to reside
Familiar, has no need of us to hide
Innocent his face to all appears
His presence is not felt, till mind he sears
The curious be tempted, least to take a peep
That instant found new blood has he to creep
He draws you there with his, and your own sin
I beg, I beg, never dare, to see, what lurks within
Categories:
pestered, dark,
Form:
Couplet
Incriminations bolster theories
pestered by daily
salutations, delusions
sanctimoniously intensified
by the written word
Your philosophy exculpates
delirium while triumphs
wisk away irremediable
suppositions that defy logic.
Hypocrisy appears delineated
with confused ramifications.
Cerebrum and Cerebellum
transpose inaccuracies into
soft, sweet music to the soul.
Artistic creation utilized
to succumb basic instincts
with craft: skills of
evasion and deception
manifest themselves in
your daily realm as you
deliver time's desires.
Categories:
pestered, allusion, imagery, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
All The World's A Stage
You'd better believe it
Each Act encircles
daily excursions circumstantially
transversing through eternity.
Conversations comprise
realms of performances
pestered with dalliances
circumventing stratospheres.
You surmise it's
not a dream,
but utopian reality
as you project your image
into telescopic
Karmic repercussions
drifting through sequential
blockades of hurdles
terminating serenity.
Peacefulness serenades auras
of dancing mistruths
utilized to perfection
under lights.
You take a final bow,
go to sleep.
Categories:
pestered, adventure, character, creation, motivation,
Form:
Free verse
You made a puerile and repugnant scene.
That was the night you broke a slot machine.
You did it in the casino right out in plain view.
There were scores of patrons around us to watch you.
You pestered me for money in a pertinacious way.
I kept saying to you, “No more money today.
You are having bad luck. This is not your night.”
Your ostensible behavior was enough to cause fright.
With your fist, you thoughtlessly broke the machine’s glass.
The men grabbed you immediately and hauled away your ass.
Furthermore, what happened next did not surprise me
The security guards treated you roughly.
In handcuffs across the floor, they took you away.
Upstairs in their office, you had to stay.
They had you in a dire predicament.
Casino security called the police department.
It was a wasted night with a comp I could not use.
For damages, I wound up paying your dues.
It seemed you realized what had occurred.
You were lucky not to be nailed with a criminal record.
Unfortunately, that did not stop your gambling.
Back to Atlantic City, you kept rambling.
Apparently, you have not learned your lesson to this day.
You thoughtlessly continue to throw your money away.
Categories:
pestered, loss, people, recovery from...,
Form:
Rhyme
Before the mirror his presence beamed.
In shock and horror, the mirror screamed
at his heartbeat
apart from me,
throbbing, ready to pop,
even talking, nonstop.
"Quiet, you fool," I whispered harshly,
yet the more he pestered me.
He spoke for me when we went out,
got all the attention with each shout.
A blush surrounded what I could not tame.
He held a bold stance, like a target for aim.
If only I could hide my face,
or take a wand and make an erase.
Even so, he'll go when he's ready,
and I'll have problems less petty.
Categories:
pestered, beauty, body, conflict, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
A vexatious question posed by kids of every generation,
One that sets parents to gnashing their teeth with irritation,
And tends to spread a pall over a well-planned vacation,
Is, "Are we there yet?" along the way to their destination!
From the rear seat, there's a paucity of civil conversation.
Mom's firm hand has resolved many a truculent confrontation!
Dad's patience has reached the point of violent detonation!
"Are we there yet?" the kids whine, to their parent's consternation!
The stalwart Pilgrims sailed the roiling seas with trepidation,
Risking their very lives to escape the bonds of privation.
The age-old query from kids must've driven them to exacerbation!
"Are we there yet?" pestered the kids to their parents aggravation!
It had to be a daunting venture to join the westward migration,
As Pa faced the rugged Rockies, the vastness of God's Creation!
Roaring rivers and Indians - he surely had that sinking sensation!
Did he suffer kids' "Are we there yet?" for the trek's duration?
Does this annoying phrase develop during gestation?
Is it primordial? Has it been around since Creation?
Has it something to do with genetics or even reincarnation?
Parents merit a special place in heaven for enduring such recitation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Categories:
pestered, funnyparents, parents,
Form:
Rhyme
Pestered
and
pursued
by
unknown
foes
A
topsy
turvy
land
where
snakes
could
have
horns
and
cows
can
have
fangs!
Nightmares
in
which
the
day's
stallions
make
mountains
out
of
molehills.
A
chance
to
witness
greek
mythology
like
creatures
for
real
since
dreamland's
a
place
for
the
unreal,
the
surreal.
There
are
hair-
raising
scary
dreams
Beset
with
horrified
yet
silent
screams.
For
us
to
wake
up
pinching
ourselves
and
sigh
with
relief
to
see
neither
tigers
or
elves.
All
in
all,
dreamland's
fascination
for
extraordinary
exaggeration
and
tall
tale
imagination
Where
myth
and
legend
come
to
life
An
amalgam
of
fiction
and
real
strife
Where
assorted
monsters
of
the
mind
reign
supreme
in
the
REM
sleep
of
our
kind
Yet
on
the
other
hand
the
sweet
sweet
dreams
where
fantasies
form
mirages
bordered
by
fanciful
seams
where
castles
in
the
air
float
gently
down
to
earth
only
to
shoot
back
up
nowhere
from
the
awakened
one's
berth.
Dreamland's
a
great
place
for
a
princess
and
fairytale
fair
for
daydreams
extend
into
midnight
and
linger
on
there.
Yet
a
quote
I
took
to
heart
and
here
would
love
to
share
'that
if
your
sweet
dreams
don't
come
true,
don't
you
fret
coz
atleast
your
nightmares
didn't
come
true
either!''
That
oughtta
console
all
and
sundry
Yeah
go
on
heave
relief's
phew
sigh!
(linked to the contest
page painting by
Deshpande)
Categories:
pestered, adventure, dream,
Form:
Rhyme
Along with the stench
From the Vietnam swamp
Lingers many other stains
Far beyond mud and muck
I’ve washed and scrubbed
‘Til my fingers bled raw
Trying to remove the souvenirs
From my uniform cloth.
Splats of blood, of a friend,
Buried without a face,
And the revenge on the shooter,
In the very same place.
The stain, there on the arm,
Is from the night when I slept,
In a dug out, trench,
Where dead bodies were kept
There’s a cigarette burn
On the chest, over there
Self inflicted pain,
Meant to melt away care
Deeper into hell
Evert step that I took
Mayhem and murder
In all directions, it lurked
A letter arrived
They said I could go home.
So, my buddy and I
To the train station flown
1 week later, in Kentucky
We planted our feet
To be spat on by strangers
We passed on the street
The dirty laundry we wore
Was not held with respect,
We came home from one War
And, intercepted the next
Politicians on the news
Say, that was not a “war.”
Just a conflict, they say
So, what did our men die for?
I’ve woke up in panic,
Cold sweats, and crazed
I’ve wide opened fire
Through my home, without phase
If that don’t define war,
Then what’s this that I feel,
Are you trying to tell me,
What I saw wasn’t real?
Still yet today, I am pestered
By images, time to time
When I open that drawer
With dirty laundry inside.
04/19/2011
All rights reserved ©
Miranda Lambert
In dedication to my Pawpaw; Frank Dials, Vietnam Veteran
Served from 1964-1970.
He always has a hard time telling this story, but tells it bravely.
RESPECT THE VETS!!!!
Categories:
pestered, dedication, family, history, recovery
Form:
Rhyme
Vacances en France
Seven hundred miles we travelled,
Across both land and sea.
Because our friends had told us,
France was lovely as could be.
Two caravans we towed there,
To a villa called ‘la Ronce’,
They’d been there, so many times,
But us, well just this once.
We arrived a little weary,
They’d a puncture on the way.
A tyre blew off their caravan,
And ripped the side away.
We stopped and then a gendarme,
Called a man to change the wheel.
Like something from a storybook,
The scene was quite unreal.
We finally reached the campsite,
And drove in through the gate.
To begin our three week holiday,
We thought, now this is great.
They put us on two pitches,
That were near a mile apart.
And placed us both in sinking sand,
I threatened to depart.
They realised I meant it,
So they gave us two good sites.
Where we were pitched together,
And could gossip through the nights.
We spent our days by swimming,
On the glorious Français coast.
By evening we were drinking wine,
To cool our daily ‘roast’.
We took along our teenage kids,
With us they did not stay.
But spent their days, with friends in bars,
And made us parents pay.
The lifestyle there so different,
From the one we had at home,
A slower pace of living,
And not pestered by the phone.
We thought we were in heaven,
As we sweltered everyday.
While watching nudists on the beach,
Where we would swim and play.
But there was ‘one little drawback’,
Just a tiny one, you see.
The site had other visitors,
That drank much more than me.
These nasty little creatures,
Had a taste for human blood.
And feasted on our bodies,
Like nought but vampires should.
Swollen up from head to toe,
And even on our bum.
We looked like we’d been rolled in thorns,
Then toasted by the sun.
Amongst our cherished memories,
When we finally left our sites.
We took home thoughts of sunny days,
While scratching insect bites!
Ivor G Davies
Categories:
pestered, holiday,
Form:
Rhyme
My shew is no longer breathing
This I really do lament
My shrew is no longer kicking
I find myself in torment;
I wonder where its soul went;
Could it be Alaska or Benelux?
This death definitely sucks
For it was a creature, a tender creature
Whose system ceased functioning altogether;
Today, I can only see a bleak future;
For it no longer moves
For it no longer laugs
Such lack of noise and motion means
Tears in my eyes and apathy;
Life without you is colourless;
Such a tiny peaceful mammal
Who has never pestered anyone
I will really miss this animal
Since now I am truly alone
For my best friend is gone;
Its little heart stopped working
And mine since then is aching;
I could hold you in my hand
So much fun remains in my mind;
If only time we could rewind!
There's no therapy to get over this
No alcohol since I'm a teetotaler
No video games. I loathe them
I can't focus on chess now
I can't read poetry like this
My shrew is always in my mind
But nowhere in my life
Just a cold still body
It's dead. Dead.
Like my joy.
Gone.
But worry not, my little mammal
This won't last long...
I will see you soon, my lovely friend
Categories:
pestered, animal, bereavement, death, emotions,
Form:
Free verse