Best Plodding Poems
You Are Not Invited
--Latching onto my soul without an invitation--
Elements around my shore expose more than air
--Playing with fire is not a game you will win--
----
Silently she swarms in like a leech,
Feeding and sucking from the wounds my pain left behind.
She came inside: "Uninvited!"
Here have a drink, and die!
Taste the water drips that sail across my lips
Plodding vigorously in the open air of her unwanted hostility
Forbidden as one, I noticed her aura a sickening light
Imprisonment that haunted smoke around her own imperfections
The hate and envy, she lives in resides airborne
The sound that she have summoned up hunger
Brought me near the edge of everything
Feel my pain, a touch of impurities
Tainted, infected, poisoned passion, her face disguised
Surrender toward serenity, the lighthearted woman I am inside
She will never take, my full eternal grace
It’s time to reveal that blazing fire I hide
Drown her from the false flown sorrows of gust
Hold her hideous head under water--- burn her false fire out
Never will I turn my back and watch her muster them broken lids
Lungful of lies poisons the wind that flows from her snake like voice
Maneuvering the skies, scheming that snatch in
Like a viper twisting its unmatched curves,
I strike, like a pyromaniac --A burning match
Allowing her to taste a part of the air I breathe
A waste in the breeze her insecurities
Trying to destroy what she can't be, what she can't see
At the end, blustery weather will remind her of the sea inside me,
YOU! The Angel, who crawls around like a shadow
Gorging its way into the heart with a charm of greed
Twisting reality hoping nobody sees its true sick identity
Slandering my name as the master of evil and manipulative
Marking my territory, warning others of a cold draft
Grasping the beauty that glows from my soul
There it stood on the ledge UNINVITED
The devil walked and took my shoes
:)
Frothy waves stretch to kiss toes
Hikers plodding sandy coasts
Leaving imprints on the shore
Who journeyed here, perhaps this morn
As the orange orb created dawn
Summoning sun worshipers
Footprints far too large to fill
Descended down the shell-strewn hill
Then hugged the waves low tide
The retirement community
Sends scouts here daily just to see
If the sands of time still wait
Alas, they do, imprints remain
Sacrificed to sea again
When evening tide returns
Their legacies erased each day
Another scout, another age
Will surely cast its prints anew
Parallel
Evening arrived scattering snowflakes,
I sought a solitary
Path
Through winter’s barren woods
Made magical this night
With glittering snow
Gracing every empty branch
Each twig
In the muffled silence of a downy dusk
And, thinking that I walked
Enfolded in the snowy twilight,
Only with myself,
I overlooked the footprints
Slowly walking
Side by side
With my own –
Unnoticed in the rhapsody
Of the winter’s stormy
Forest celebration
Until
The path uncurled around a curve
Revealing in the gathering dusk
Another traveler,
Familiar to my heart,
Plodding
Through the windblown drifts
Bent,
Stooping beneath a heavy burden
Slipping side to side
With every step
Until the baggage
Pulled
The bearer to the snowbound path –
A solitary figure
Captured in the jealous grip of gravity -
And so I left my reveries,
My path,
Crossing through the unmarked snow,
The snowy wall,
Between us
To lift the burden
Of my companion in the twilight
To follow in the footsteps –
In silence -
And
Knowing
I could not lead upon this path,
Nor walk within the chambers of another heart,
But only trace the tracks
Outlining the journey of my friend
In this brief moment of time and stars
Beneath a darkening sky
Till we would walk in parallel
Again.
They are walking! Walking, walking, walking!
Long stretches of walk - hundreds of miles of impossible uncertainty,
in blazing sun, in sweltering, muggy, heat - running away from an Inferno.
Home, sweet home! Villages with shady trees!
Destination!
Thirst, hunger, bleeding.
They trudge, fatigued babies hanging on their shoulders like sandbags,
starving infants clutching hands, tears dry on their cheeks.
Men and women - walk, walk, walk!
Leave cities where cruelty is the only language,
Villages with shady trees -
Home, sweet home, far away.
Burning sun, sweating bodies, dry throat, growling tummies.
Slog beside railroads - follow tracks,
no trains, no buses, no trucks, no vehicles,
only two weary feet to carry them to their destination,
plodding with all their might until the body can not move a step further.
Lie on the tracks - it’s hard, it’s cold, it’s comforting!
Come rest, come sleep, come death -
Blood-stained tracks-
Destination never came.
The deep delved path winds in the wood,
chasing with ghost-breaths and leafy hoods,
arbor-brawn the winnowed path crooks along;
whispering with what future song?
To ill desire and inches from hope,
plodding the cool of Earth alone?
...and the road behind pretends to love,
waltzing with garland worlds,
old friends long time not heard ---
gray and forsaken on the projector wall,
how wan this dying rose!
and pallid the day which broods...
Old Lucifer playing his lute at every high road;
Life had once played a tune more fair;
and soft the notes in the morning air,
with wife and child ---
the world had watched without despair,
a man to be called a man,
with land and two strong hands
to till the new earth-wares;
But his monsters had come
and bid him to stare too long into the glitter of gold,
and the gusting crooks in the road...
alone, forsaken...
a mere shadow of a man;
Though they called him king,
(he cried alone)
I try to avoid the pending pain
It's impossible, like trying to stop rain
Issues surround me everywhere
Creating a harsh reality of fear
It's not about not having faith inside
It's just a trap with no-where to hide
A place where answers can't be found
A place with lack of nature around
Some changes never experienced before
At the same time standing on a falling floor
Health falters, striking poorly any given day
Plodding forward, multi-tasking is the only way
My courage is in what I can try to cure
My love will grow from anything left pure
Heidi Sands
6/3/23
POTD: 6/5/23
Chaste and more graceful
Than the white canvassed Dhow:
Reclines sweet Nefertiti
Upon a Blue Nile breeze.
Fabled entity more whiter
Than the purest white snow
That thickly blankets
And folds over the wide Pyrenees.
Dipped is thy beak
Into a harvesters August sunset;
A Bohun proper,
Gorged and chained with a crown;
Tipped Argent quills
Thus scrawl across royal warrants:
Plodding, punctilious creature -
Of high born renown!
Proudly thy trumpet Lancastrian ascension,
Emblazoned on a Heraldic shield;
Pomp and indignation
Paddling alongside contemptuous scorn;
Sinuous neck of Serpentine undulations
Tensioned as if a Longbow -
On whose plaited strings
The sturdy Yeomans Bodkins were drawn!
And did Columbines mask
Ever hold such indignant eyes
For whose feathered heart
The diligent cob did attend?
His sedulous efforts
To court within impassioned grunts
When intertwining throats
Do abouts and lovingly wend.
O, Cygnus olor!
En monde bosse - glittering Dunstable jewel;
Pen and immortal verse
Chart beside heavens gilded streams.
For under old mariners discarded stars
And above silvered byways:
Whoop the beat of dusted wings
Inside slumbering clouds wandering dreams.
Majestic cathedrals are erected for the worship of God,
Featuring towering spires and ostentatious facade.
Grand organs acclaim ancient hymns with clarion flourish.
Melodious choirs sing hosannas, languid souls to nourish!
Most congregants worship in less pretentious surrounds,
But the same generous blessings from above abounds.
It matters not the size of the building or its congregation.
The people are the church worshipping with joyous celebration!
Upon distant fields of frightful martial campaign,
And upon naval vessels plodding the roiling main,
Dedicated chaplains in simple settings minister to their fold,
Proclaiming just as effectively the cogent message of old!
Whether it be mosque, synagogue, cathedral or canvas tent,
And whatever the religion or creed may be the people's bent,
One thing they have in common and it will be clearly evident,
They all witness the presence of their God ever omnipotent!
Perhaps in lieu of building mighty edifices prone to decay,
Bridges of understanding could be built to keep prejudices at bay,
Drawing diverse peoples together for a common good,
Fostering charity, fellowship and world-wide brotherhood!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The Lying Tongue
sang a song
The Flattering Tongue
played along
The Know It All Tongue
intended the composition
The Meddling Tongue
held it's position
The Harsh Tongue
kept quiet for once
The Tactless Tongue
reluctantly obliged
The Rude Tongue
got annoyed
The Loquatious Tongue
was soon overjoyed
The Discouraging Tongue
hummed on
The Self-Depreciating Tongue
became withdrawn
The Argumentative Tongue
thought it all wrong
The Boasting Tongue
thought it right on
The Hasty Tongue
felt it was contrite
The Discouraging Tongue
and all this singing
The Indiscreet Tongue's
awkward whistling
The Complaining Tongue's
plodding drone
The Cursing Tongue
let out a no-no moan
The Judgemental Tongue
liked that a lot
The Self-Absorbed Tongue
rolled it's eyes
The Retaliating Tongue
held out a hat
The Intimadating Tongue
offered a prize
The Cynical Tongue
just laughed
The Accusing Tongue
choreographed
The Gossiping Tongue
signed autographs
The Doughting Tongue
crooned the refrain
The Accusing tongue
blasted the blame
The Hasty Tongue
fanned the flames
So the Belittling Tongue
dismissed the party
The Devisive Tongue
composed the ending
And the Silent Tongue
looked on.
* All tongues borrowed from
Surrounded by seven cherubs of cheer,
Just recently passing my 100th year,
I’ve been standing here on this perch,
In Little Falls, MN’s Our Lady of Lourdes church.
Most of the day I’m alone simply pining away,
Surrounded by stained glass scenes of yesterday.
Watching glorious beams of color jump left to right,
As east to west the Sun travels ever so bright.
Mostly alone with a visitor or two,
One of my favorites is when you are in view.
You study my features with such wonder and awe,
I can see deep within, you are on your last straw.
Walking in with face down slowly plodding as one,
Genuflecting with pain in respect of my Son.
Shuffling into the pew, your body sulking and sits.
Looking up at me, into my eyes, your stare hits.
I wish I could reach out and hold you in my arms,
Wrapped in my blue cloak, protecting you from harms,
Rocking your fears away, with a simple motherly sway,
Breathing into you new life, taking away all your strife.
Times like these you need, comfort and touch,
I thank God above for others providing so much.
It is now that I listen for, the eery creak of the door.
For a heavenly sent friend, to cradle you until the end.
You keep appearing in my dreams like Freddy, trying to dissolve them
You feignedly pose as kryptonite to my Superman
If we were in a movie, you would be the villain and, of course, I would be the hero
Yes!
You're like a minuscule Mr. McGhee to my Incredible Hulk
You faintly appear as a STOP sign when my light
shines a vibrant green
GO!
Yes, I am going like that midnight train to Georgia with no fright
Steadfastly plodding my course of destiny toward that glorious morning light
I see you, Michael, just lurking behind trees
You want me shaking in my boots and pleading down on my knees
But I'm a victor so begging and pleading are not part of me
Onward I will travel toward my beautiful destiny
A diamond in the rough, once-dull surface is now shining brightly
Keep the reel rolling as the plot thickens
Oh yes! I'm writing my masterpiece line by line; just call me Mr. Dickens
As my character effortlessly aggrandizes
There you are still lurking and wishing for my demise
But like the mighty 'Phoenix' out of ashes, I rise!
No surprise! For it is true, I rise. Yes, I RISE!
Virginia's abound with hills that roll off her shoulders
Wet rocks glisten on the edge of the lazy water
Translucent fish arching through the cold channels
Silver barbed hooks rusting in tree trunks
Dangling over the water, and breathing life into the earth
Wet like your skin, see-through blue eyes
Making waves as the children pirouette off the stone cliffs
Disappearing into the emerald green and slate shadows
Meeting the cool rush of the river when they get down there
Or that old carp that Lizzy caught last summer but she let go
Swim bladders shining like mirrors, reflecting oily promises
Running after the great blue, pistons heaving in the hills
Soot on daddy's solemn brow, over his gentle eyes
They all come running, soaking and plodding home
Eager hands grasping for the pie in the window
While the last beat of the summer wind kicks around
Makes the quilt with many colors take flight on the line
One more day under the belt, and another notch in the bed post
Sleep like kings, little Southern Royalty
That old time hang dog moon will see you through
I'm sitting here
Admiring the view
Thankful for it's beauty
It's comfort
It's familiarity.
I've been here before
So I can close my eyes
and picture it still
And I know it all.
Deep breath in
Contented smile
Snapshot made
The scene is owned
Then the eyes open
As realisation strikes
- I own nothing
- I know nothing
I don't know
how each hill was formed
the names of the farmers who built the stiles to every field
or the names of those who now own those blankets of land
I cannot begin
to count every blade of grass
to measure the mist
to know the age and history of every tree
The past of the very bench I'm sat on
is a mystery to me
The winding roads have their own heritage
And I can't say who first walked it's length
Or where that plodding bus was built
Or where it's been since it's birth
The cars stuck behind are heading on their own unique journeys
I can't vouch as to where to or where from
Far less state the words and thoughts of those cocooned inside
Or declare the depth of any of the puddles they pass
I can't tell you the wattage of the bulb
Shining through that distant window
Still less how warm the sun will feel in an hour
Or the direction the wind came from, even ten seconds ago
The provenance and future of those clouds
Cannot be told by them
Let alone by me.
Eyes close once more
I know nothing but
the fact that this view
In this moment
Does belong to me
And that maybe, somehow
I'm all the wiser for knowing less
Lament
Brooding days,
Vanquished in the unconnected gloom,
Shower frost,
Standing watch at dawn to pierce the morning
With an artic tempest,
Swirling ‘cross a land lost in forgetfulness:
Sighing
Beneath borderless views of snow unbroken,
Where nothing dare disturbs
The unchanging vision
But a single line of footprints
When skies of grey and bleaker daylight
Lean so close to earth
They lay their heaviness upon a homeless wood sprite
Wandering in the raw breath of twilight dawning,
Caught by phantom gusts
Spiraling down,
Shivering as the brumaled wind
Runs its fingers
Through the marrow of the soul
Where slumber languishes,
Icebound
As plodding steps
Frantically searching groves of tangled silver linden,
Pursued
And haunted
By the relentless midnight sun;
Errant fugitive,
Followed by the wispy remnants of a golden morning,
Trembling
As barren aspen branches
Beneath bright errant bursts of fiery lights -
Racing
Across
The northern sky -
Taunting
Tortured
Eyes
Seeing only to remember;
Grasping
For a single crocus
Plunged into yearning
Until the boreal shadows
Touch
The depth of darkness
Bidding nordic sprite to sit,
To rest,
Curled up against a frozen birch of black and white,
Taking final flight on tattered winds
Heralding the touch of sunlight.
Godspeed my friend
What breathes into the brain
and sustains from some secret place a sullied heart?
The pains of faces of others for the wicked barb
and (un) done deed to garnish a little 'peace' ---
but to gloat in cruel cosmos ---
and sharpen thy sardonic horns,
trust in the world and its soft whispers of death....
Little darkling upon thee ---
who walks on crushed beds of glass,
the sharp shards gather in baneful bits
....to each corner of thy heart and mind;
Thy soul is devoid of death and breathes infinite dreams,
and rears from the razor-sharp, biting shards ---
not a glass darkly,
but the glints of glazed stars;
Dig a little deeper, through the sullied shadows dark,
how slow, fat little imps swiftly depart,
swifter thy beams of light than slow plodding dark,
faceless night;
not moon, star or light ---
deep...deep... so stark and shadowless,
beyond all memory and thought
Not an image to paint for only formless black...
(on thy pallet to have) ---
only light in life;
can bring you back what you can have,
the stars and moons, and dreams you make....
How can you be lost,
(when you are the light?)
***Written in 2015/For moments down in faith***