Best Prod Poems
I wander in the nature’s green, trees in rows the birds preen
Like a gem glimmers the morning dew, with a precious diamond’s hue
And flowers bloom as I gaze anew, eggs hatch to welcome lives in queue
I can smell the wondrous earth, the distant flow of water in mirth
It’s a new dawn another day thereof, wherein I sense his breath of love.
As I prod on the old man smiles, he delivers milk by cycling miles
Passing the farmers sweet abode, the cry of new life reaches the road
A child wails by the neighbour’s door, with a sweet candy her eyes adore
Roaming the street is a hound grown, pups trailing behind unknown
A jocund street undreamed of, wherein I sense his breath of love.
My dearest rush out sighting me afar, without whom my life is a war
The tiny tots in their cradles lie, as we sing a lullaby
This is the world I am part of, wherein I sense his breath of love.
© (4 Feb '15)
* Honourable mention in the contest 'Enter a poem #1' by Poet Destroyer
An exuberant falcon she is, isn’t she?
Being the aviator of my flight of thoughts.
Cares less she to heed, whenever in adoration, I
Do call her for a chat - she is a mischievous trickster.
Every time she dawdles, I give her a gentle prod;
For then, she arrives in ripples of reasoning,
Gleaming in reflections of my own contemplations.
Hues of insights kindle my mind’s spectrum as
I follow her to the unexplored layers of landscape - a
Journey for the moment - as we drift across the
Kaleidoscope of nature, when through seamless
Loops of thoughts, I crochet and disperse my ink
Meandering over dreamy mangroves of my mind.
Now she’s disappeared, but where’s she gone?
Oh, she can vanish in a flash like a lightning! - a
Playful penguin - it’s hard to grab her attention; the
Quick-witted queen of my boundless imagi-Nation, who
Refills my thought pot and sows fresh seeds of fancy.
Sometimes with her capricious flaps, she glides away
To coax her to stay back more is beyond my ability.
Upon the labyrinth of life, we travel together.
Voices of many a mind, whispering and rumbling,
We hear as we ponder on the vast sea of life. My
Xanadu of inspiration, when she appears out of nowhere.
Yes, she feeds my brief reveries with pearls of perception - a
Zealous advocate, she is, of my passionate ink.
Myself, Armed Only With A Dying Flame
Dark travels in such a long life
early days of hungering strife
A child born to fight for it
tasting ton of salt in every spit
Lost on pathways that breathe my aches
Prod me restless as I sever the chase
Between day and night and promises I made
To myself, armed only with a dying flame
Days sinking past like a slow tide
no softness, that one could abide
As years sent life into a dark spin
easy came toughness, pain and sin
I have seen more than I ever could
Branches of bitterness carved deeply in wood
Wandering eyes dismissed them as facades of a man
Who fell victim to the ride as the years fell down
Is there saving grace if I stop at none
I may have foreseen it all but I doubted I’d come
To terms with myself and make me turn around
From the edge of this cliff and fade away void of sound
Then came love trying its very best
softness, weakness in every test
Blade drawn to parry each thrust
to live on never daring to trust
Swiftly gone like a bygone air
I may be nothing more than despair’s heir
Constricted by premises that haunt every corner
Shutting my eyes will mean absolute surrender
A weak moment, hell bore on down
life melted, each day a new frown
Love had been accepted with grace
she left without a path to trace
Sad night , the fight no great cause
clocks stopped, universe hit pause
Time yielded no forgiving reprieve
love lost, nothing , nothing to retrieve
I was again left to remain
I have but myself to blame
When the rain comes to ease the pain
I know I’ll be whispering your name
12-3-2014
Collaboration write, Robert Lindley and my very talented friend, Jake Ponce.
Here is hoping that you may enjoy this humble team effort .
Has been my great honor to write with my friend Jake!
Yesterday when I stood before him, he spoke my name
Today, I still stand, but the floorboards are cold
and he no longer knows the color of my eyes.
With each spoonful of the steaming grey I lift my arms,
Up, then down, again and again, a repeated motion – weeping,
My arms are trembling with the weight of the spoon
that holds in its cupped womb my raw, injured soul.
Father, I say, in a voice cold from straining not to break
I prod away the soup dribbling down his chin, gently.
The wrinkled hands are limp at his sides, lost.
What should be mad and free is caged within me; fluttering
feebly, thumping about in a circle of broken pieces
The look in his blank eyes has labeled me a stranger
But when they are closed my name is written on his face.
Long shot prospect
named “Reject Hoss”
bedecked with sweat.
He fell to last
‘till he passed gas
so fast, he flew!
He ran with ease.
At Jockey’s prod,
he squeezed in front!
Forty to one,
odds he won was
pure fun for Hoss.
Inspired by Dr. Ram's Than- Bauk contest.
written 8/6/11
I know sometimes your way seems dark and dreary
I know sometimes your body may feel worn and weary.
And yet you press on, you keep spreading God’s word
You refuse to rest until his voice has been heard.
A leader, a guide, a shepherd steeped in love
Whose greatest desire is to live eternally above
You teach about Heaven, you illuminate the way,
You live as an example of God’s love each and every day.
You are a bridge to the Lord during troubles and trials
And you depend on Jesus to help shorten the miles.
You preach about Jesus who is the ultimate answer
Whether the problem is financial, emotional, or terminal cancer.
You are a good Shepherd who loves tending his sheep
Though some are scared, some worn, some battered, and some weak.
But each of them know that you are available twenty-four seven,
To comfort them, to cry with them, to reach out toward Heaven
When a sheep starts to wonder away from the flock,
You gently prod him and lead him right back to the rock.
You’ve sought The Lord's guidance and carried your cross,
You’ve done His will and prayed no soul would be lost.
And as your reward for the work that you've done,
When your sheep are well fed and the good race you’ve run
When this life is over and each battle has been won
The Good Lord will say, come on home, JOB WELL DONE!
Heroin lies the irony —
Segregated babies are weaned on
milk-of-the-poppy
doctrine of Equality
Emancipated notion on the nod:
A false sense of freedom
is taught in every syringe-scattered schoolyard
Children of the cold, concrete jungle cry hard ...
opiate tears of injected fentanyl medium
Misled by the wavy cattle prod
Ghetto by-products of iron oar legacy
get kicked to the curb
by hollow words of homeless empathy
Cotton head infants overdosed with coo joy,
at the mirage sound of liberty
Beast-of-burden swayed buy patriotic noise,
so lung addicted to hypocrisy
Bottled-up hallucinated hope
is just a serotonin chain reaction memory
Minds blown in the wind,
be the next gen dopefiends for democracy
I will not be your puppet in a minstrel show
Because I guarantee no Mammy, Jezebel, or Sambo lives here
You may try to control my thoughts and dreams
But I will not be your Venus Hottentot
As you stare in awe of my beauty through a glass cage
I will not be your freak show
or your gateway to a cultural experience
So please find your own
I will not be your token prize that you flaunt for credibility
Referencing my existence ever-so-often to quench your thirsty guilt
I will not allow you to parade my black skin as a badge of honor
I will not let you touch my kinky locs
I will not let you use my tears to wash away your sins
I will not ‘dance monkey dance’
I will not sing or perform for you
My body is not a vessel for your insecurities
Do not twist and turn my limbs into a web of amusement
I will not plaster a smile on my face while you poke and prod my soul
Because I do not belong to you
Distant space departing realms of conscious warmth
Voicing reason to an end within the persons hearth
A fire with pit to poke and prod dissolving spirit
Harmed retreated into a place where safe
The Avatar a being that searched far beyond limited view
Star that gazed a return to the night in day
Avatar that watches from the darkness kept at edges bay
Deep under a surface of skin flushed heat
A spirit that flees instead of the fight to escape
Soaring the magnitude of magnetic divines
An Avatar without wings that carelessly takes flight
Hovering not high not low always an even around
This lumen of light that is profoundly weighted
Shining use of a rise up from the depths of body down
The Avatar does speak to encourage the voice of sound
Direction of the pointer towards the feeling of no despair
A spiritual intertwining of the beings loving care
Body of vapored essence that is temporarily filled
By the choices lead through the heart that is felt
Releasing pressures built long lasted to with stand and resist
Temptation of the Avatars love that was heaven sent
'Avatar Entry' Contest Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Bind my hands
Shackle my feet
Rain lashes on my body
Prick, prod, impale and crucify
You can impound my freedom
You can bludgeon me bloody...
Still, I stand tall
Proud, unbowed,
My spirit is yet free
I am yet, the master of my soul!
(Inspired by W.E. Henley's Invictus)
~Contest: A Freed Verse
~Sponsor: Brian Strand.
~"I Stand Here" contest
Sponsor: craig cornish
Tell me your troubles
Tell me your cares
Tell me your want, your dreams, tell me everything if you dare
Talk To Me
Talk to me about life
Talk to me about death
Talk to me about you and me
Talk to me until your last breath
Talk To Me
Scream my name
Scream your pains
Scream your hurt, your love, your aches and what remains
Talk To Me
Tell me you love me
Tell me you hate me
Tell me you want, care, and need me to be
Talk To Me
I'll take your troubles
I'll take your cares
I'll take your wants, your desires, I'll keep what you share
Talk To Me
What do you want to talk about
What do you need from me
What do you want, desire, love, what do you believe
Talk To Me
I'll talk to you about life
I'll talk to you about death
I'll talk to you about you and me
I'll talk to you until my last breath
Talk To Me
I guess it's hard to trust me
I guess you can't dare
I guess it was too hard, too rough, too much for you to share
Then Don't Talk To Me
Don't talk to me if you don't want to
Don't talk to me if it's too much
Don't talk to me if it hurts, if it pains, if it's just a crutch
But Please Talk To Me
Please talk to me about you
Please talk to me about life
Please talk to me about the haunts that keep you up at night
Talk To Me
Talk to me I beg you
Don't go quiet on me now
Talk to me please, I'll teach you how
Talk To Me
I know you're in pain
I know your struggles are real
I know you try, you hurt, you pretend to feel
Talk To Me
No more will I beg
No more will I plead
No more will I push, prod, mess with your head
But Talk To Me
I'll take every word to heart
I'll take every tear you shed
I'll take everything you say and take it with me instead
Talk To Me
Thanks for telling me
Thanks for letting me in
Thanks for talking to me, crying to me, trusting me to be your friend
Talk To Me
I came to your hospice,
I came here to die
I came for my family
a final goodbye
I broke that one promise,
I most wanted to keep
Alone on my mountain,
no mourners to weep
The doctors and nurses,
they prod and they poke
Their intentions most noble,
my spirit on dope
In the night, strangers faces
call out my name
And act like they know me
new pawn in the game
If I had that one wish
still left unfulfilled
I would walk to the rim
of the Canyon so still
At dawn I would jump
with both arms open wide
Saying: Thank you Dear Lord
—for a wonderful ride
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)
The sun illuminates where former smile,
a crimson sunset into the crypsis
fades. Optical illusion - boat upside-
down, sails sullied, the upheaval of grit.
My sight ebbs and flows, a buoy beholds
the odd. I grasp the folds of skittered skirt,
hang on tight, my fishing shock strength reeling.
My black and blue breath, a sturgeon gasping.
Funny how the ocean tides seem so calm…
The wicked wretch is two-faced, a liar.
I’d bask in her embryonic fluid —
she can roll you like a reptile, scar you
for life. Still like a siren, she calls me,
my hair drying from her sin, her music
beckons, shimmering waves prod, “C’mon in.”
I dare to turn my back on my island.
But a child’s palm nestles into my world,
my heart sinks in vertigo — I let go.
I begin to turn over hapless beach,
finding cockleshells with wet hands and feet.
The morning comes slowly,
first with a faint glow growing
in the sky above the fence,
then lifting to prod the feet
of clouds as if to wake them
and raise their rain heavy weight
up off the horizon.
My body fills the contours
of an old chair, positioned to catch
the first rays coming through
the window to see off the long night.
There are times when I feel
that the darkness will never end,
a thick black pall falling
across all thought,
but it goes and I begin
to take in the day. Some trick
of memory assembles me again,
puts me in a familiar place where
I know where the cups
and the coffee beans are kept
and somewhere
in my mind a gallery opens
with wall after wall
of familiar faces
and pictures of the past,
time stamped and strung out
way back to where all becomes
an impenetrable blur, nothing more
than a dreamless sleep out of which
I emerged as me
from the mystery of ‘before’.
The night holds such gray, when beating wave and tortured sky compete
"Still round the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate."
Hammered from the surf or pounded from the shapes of the giants causeway
life will emerge while all eternity waits, the bright of sunlight to relate.
Abate the misery of colorless life, lost love and that which was so sweet
fill the empty rooms within the manse upon the tor, so now, incomplete
with the sound of childrens laughter and the rampant run of little feet.
Let loose the lock from gate which binds my love to death so indiscreet.
The looming form of barren rib and prow so sharps denies the rift of heaven
Its skeletal remains do not harken to the light nor St. Peter's prod
for my love, my life, my heart was lost amongst the waves thus broken
and will walk no more with me upon the sand or haunted sod.