Best Prodded Poems
A spike was driven deep in the earth
In a quest to find man's greed
Prodded and pricked the earth relents
As it slowly begins to bleed
The vein they found would suddenly burst
As it spewed its liquid gold
They tried to apply a tourniquet in vain
Only to make it explode
Its poison blood would cover the sea
And reach to the distant lands
But now it becomes a liquid death
Caused by man's own hands
The fish and birds would suffocate
From this sludge that covered the earth
The greed of man had come with a price
And death would count its worth
The tears of men could not wash away
The oil that the earth had cried
The greed of man now claims its victims
As the plants and the animals died
Categories:
prodded, sadearth,
Form:
Rhyme
Mister Joe, poet, jangles loose change in his pocket,
Jogging memories and garnering thoughts as he walks.
For Mr. Joe's brain washes, tumbles and dries,
his gems of thoughts in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up, extracted, pegged, and hung up to dry,
To taunt and flap jangles for him, his readers and strangers near by.
Mister Joe's charm icons are processed, mulled over, distilled and wrung out for meaning within.
His jangles find meaning in bumps on smooth paper, read as Braille.
His jangles arise from stones skipped over calm smooth waters,
yielding meaning in the creases and ripples created.
His jangles rattle his sleep awake each night, with sky rockets of images and flashes bursting.
His jangles are a empowering, rewarding, revealing, enlightening,
and sometimes troubling and haunting, but can't be undone.
His jangles are his rhyme and reason, his friend and confidant, his mater and aether
His jangles are really what he's all about as a poet,
as a miner and peddler of ideas, and as a prophet and revealer.
Mister Joe's charms jangles the minds of his readers
His words cast nets to trawl up memories and concepts,
lured within the reader's mind with word play and twists.
Seas of dreams and memories are netted, prodded and poked
To yield twinkles, sparkles, hums, grunts, and nods of appreciation and delight.
His jangles finding meaning and echoes with links and associations, never before conceived nor considered.
Mister Joe's catch of memories once jangled, are returned to reader with care
Embellished and enthralled by meaning, relevance, word play and twists.
The reader now has new jangles to add to charm bracelet on wrist, or to jingle with loose change in pocket.
Mister Joe, the poet, and his reader, now walk and dance with jangles, jingling echoes within.
Categories:
prodded, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
There's no set list of motivational things I can name
because my inspirational impetus is never the same.
Often, I'm encouraged to pick up my pen and write
by celestial bodies glimmering upon me in the night.
What moves me to choose canvas and brush to paint
can be induced by flower, a child, there's no restraint
when it comes to what triggers my mind as inspirations.
It can be reading works of a Master Poet's compilations.
There are no bounds that hold back my impulses to act.
I'm easily prone to create from song lyrics. That's a fact.
I'm prodded to cook after coming across a good recipe,
maybe tweaking it with a bit of this or that to satisfy me.
I'm an artist at heart, finding inspiration in everything...
sunrise, butterflies, my senses honed by birds that sing.
I'm stirred by many touchstones that spur my imagination.
Remaining open-minded is a great source of stimulation.
I've been inspired by compliments and even disrespect.
They serve as catalysts, like an inspirational architect
that lead me to find new provocation; a spark to ignite
the fire of creativity within me to rise up and take flight.
Categories:
prodded, inspiration,
Form:
Rhyme
It was our third-grade field trip to the Dinosaur Exhibit
We would be touring all the lands that dinosaurs inhibit
I remember the teacher saying “keep your hands inside your pockets”
Then she paired me with the meanest kid, his name was Tommy Rockets
“I dare you to take an egg,” Tommy whispered giving me a stare
The nest was full of eggs, if I took the smallest who would care?
The next day at school every child was questioned.
The museum curator was out to teach us a lesson
The egg had grown overnight and was hidden in my coat.
They made mom take me to the doctor so he could check my throat.
They poked me and they prodded, ran machines against my feet.
They questioned why I would choose that specific egg to eat.
The news showed my picture on every single station.
One reporter called me Dino Boy. I was an amateur sensation
When the egg finally hatched I had to hide the birth.
The animal that was born was extinct from this earth.
A Flaming Pterodactyl in all his blazing glory.
No one believed me, but who could make up such a story?
At first, he was easy and stayed in my closet through the day.
At night he’d fly around but never go astray.
Then I started getting blamed for things when I wasn’t even there.
Like vegetables gone from gardens leaving soil bare.
Kitty cats so high in trees the firemen couldn’t reach them.
Children so riled up teachers couldn’t teach them.
We moved from one town to another and another.
Each time it was the same. People felt pity for my mother
The next morning I woke up to a chewing sound
crunch, crunch, and crunch.
That’s when I noticed he ate my homework for his lunch.
My Flaming Pterodactyl again was causing havoc.
With a trail of Cheetos, I led him to our attic.
I made sure he was comfy then I headed off to school.
No one there believed me until they found him swimming in the pool.
Now he’s our school mascot in all his flaming glory.
A Pterodactyl that … sorry he ate the rest of this story!!
February 1st, 2021
Written for the contest: and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework
Sponsor: John Lawless
Categories:
prodded, 3rd grade, 4th grade,
Form:
Narrative
(True story...!!)
~
T'was the night after New Years, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings and tree stored away with a sigh,
Finished the eggnog, and the last piece of pie.
Me in my nightie, while Pa fed the cat
We had just let the dog out, and said, "Goodnight, dear, that's a wrap!"
Then we both settled down for a long winter's nap
When the phone by the bedside, cracked the silence with a clatter!
And I awoke in a daze to see what was the matter!
Neighbor Dan on the phone.....he needed some help!
I laughed when he told me, in spite of myself!
A cow's in his pool, so chubby and plump!!
He needed some help to haul out it's big rump!
Rushing over,...to my wondering eyes should appear
There's Old Bessie in water, her eyes full of fear!
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof,
Old Bessie was frightened, she had made a big goof!
Friends ran to the rescue, and went straight to work...
Taking care that poor Bessie wouldn't get hurt.
They put heads together and laid out a plan,
Getting ropes 'round Old Bessie as fast as they can.
Tied the ropes to Dan's truck, then gave him a whistle
And up came Old Bessie like the down of a thistle!
She shook from the cold like a bowlful of jelly,
So they patted and prodded, till she rolled on her belly.
Then off ran the cow, with relief and so merry,
Her cheeks a bit frozen, her nose like a cherry!
We were offered hot chocolate to warm up again,
Four o'clock in the morning, and it was time to turn in!
Our neighbor called out, as we got out of sight,
"Have a good year and thank you!! And to all a good night!"
_________
Categories:
prodded, funny, new year, new
Form:
Rhyme
As I walked, one morning, alone, by the sea,
Thinking of nothing but myself and me,
I noticed, above the roar of the ocean,
A splashing, and thrashing, and foaming commotion.
My heart pounded madly, and adrenaline surged,
When a great, scaly beast, from the water emerged.
The creature stood glistening wet in the sun.
I didn't know whether to stand there, or run.
It turned its great head and looked all around.
Its red eyes like beacons, ten feet from the ground.
As it stepped slowly forward, the damp beach sand crunched,
And I wondered if I would be breakfast, or lunch.
Although the sea monster was at least ten-feet tall,
The look in its eyes was not threatening at all.
The creature seemed friendly, and curious too--
Wondering and waiting to see what I 'd do.
At last I remembered what feet were made for,
So I slowly turned, and walked back down the shore.
Now, strange as it seems, the thing followed me home.
It lay down on the porch, and I ran to the phone.
I called up some scientists, and they rolled on the floor,
When I said I'd discovered a live dinosaur.
But, to prove that they know how to play by the book,
They said, "Bring it on in, and we'll take a look."
Well, they probed, and they prodded, and they analyzed.
They studied its throat, its ears, and its eyes.
Then the great men of science, at last, made their call:
"Why, this isn't a dinosaur at all!
Marine iguana is the correct definition--
With a somewhat serious thyroid condition."
Categories:
prodded, children, funny, imagination,
Form:
It was the feathered purple of a blossoming iris,
kissing the laden air
with trembling lips.
I was awakened by its fragrance,
the newness of its ancient story,
told yet again by a moistening earth
in silvery birdsong.
Sometimes,
I have missed the turning from gelid and motionless
to the softening sway that unerringly follows.
I have been embittered—
brittle and bare as a crooked branch,
scraping a vacuous sky—
but not this time.
This time, the tenderest breeze,
prodded by the fingers of a spreading sun,
finds me waiting—
eyes closed, smile turned eagerly upwards
to greet the renewal
of creation.
Categories:
prodded, spring,
Form:
Free verse
Here am I enthralled by sunset delight
while beholding celestial beauty blend with horizon's majestic sight
in letting go of this day's triumph as well as challenges' blight
to welcome tomorrow, filled with hopefulness' might.
Sunset colors cheer me when rattled with successive rush-hour dues
Presenting choices of varied priorities’ hues…
I praise the Lord for His interfering beauty-clues
For me to "let go" in vanquishing failure-frustration blues.
Sunset reality witnesses times that I grumble, murmur, complain...
Yearning to yell, "I wish I had the balls midst this strain
"To tell them how I really felt with stressed heart and vexed brain..."
How fortunate I am for the Prince of peace soothes my pain.
Oh, sunset sensation helps me in such condescending, yet humbling moment
As it grips my soul toward radiant fellowship-engagement...
With prayer’s marvels along communion-wonderment
"Letting God" willingly brings joyous amazement!
Through sunset rays of bright heavenly perspective
I’m prodded to be sincerely attentive
So as not to miss my Master’s vital directive
Midst efforts as His steward, to stay active.
So then with sunset glow, I welcome any intervening incident
To teach me to become more prudent
Knowing that those I hold tight with grip so ardent
May break me, leaving a deep hurt-dent.
Basking in sunset iridescence, I thank God, nothing slips from His hand
And He never needs a magic wand
He holds me within His love so grand
He protects my hair’s slightest strand.
Inspired by sunset revelations, I succumb to spiritual bouncing
Learning that I must soar for divine pressing;
Thus, there will never be any loss in letting go, but a blessing
Since I can learn great lessons toward faith*-bracing!
*Galatians 3:26 For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.
August 1, 2018
Edited on September 13, 2023
2nd place, "Sunsets" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg; judged on 9/25/2023
Categories:
prodded, appreciation, devotion, faith, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Endless pulse of ocean's dance
carries flotsam to the sand.
Every day another chance,
prodded by an unseen hand.
Such a love I've never known—
waves crest on his brilliant mind—
after many nights alone,
sure there was no love to find.
The gentle wisdom in his voice,
urging wind-tossed heart to mend.
Remember, love is not a choice,
it finds its harbor in the end.
Such a kindness in his eyes—
passion sets my world afire,
and once more, to my surprise,
his whispers with my hopes conspire.
The sea has washed this love ashore,
and I, the beachcomber, unaware.
A glinting pebble, lost before—
just walking, I have found it there.
Categories:
prodded, love, ocean,
Form:
Rhyme
Bill prodded his sebaceous cyst
‘Twas massive the size of his fist
It spurted green pus
His wife made a fuss
“Get treatment NOW, I must insist”
Blue lighted to the A & E
Huge spurting cyst medics could see
Bill’s livid butt boil
Made doctor’s recoil
Needs lancing now, they all agree
They bundle Bill onto a table
“Don’t sedate him” said his wife Mable
I will succinctly put
He’s a pain in the butt
I’m leaving him when I am able
The medics gave Bill’s boil a prick
Green gunky pus splurts, it’s so thick
Poor Mable was heaving
She said, “Bill I’m leaving
Because you’re an ignorant dick”
“You wouldn’t seek treatment for years
Your constant moans left me in tears
I’ll file for divorce
I’m leaving of course
I’m going to live in Algiers”!
Bills visage turned ever so pale
His final breath he did exhale
The cad passed away
There’s no more to say
I’ve finished the end of this tale!
Categories:
prodded, body, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
If displaced, found nowhere, but in water
of the retention pond,
no longer in V-formation, nowhere
in the bluest sky,
however, beneath and at the behest
of angels, ruled by God,
it is my greenest eyes that you swim in,
as I exit the highway.
This exit didn’t exist when Mom was alive,
nor the quick stop, QT,
that I pass by, so close to my dad’s house.
On a cul-de-sac, road’s end,
I pull into his short, straight driveway, push
open the door, unlocked.
I quick-tell my story of the seized geese,
it was only mine to tell,
of how I saw their takeoff as if they were planes
leaving the lonely spot,
their brief stay with only my mind and heart
to excite; somewhere lifting
into the gray, blue day prodded on by
a host of angels.
Dad doesn’t recall the retention pond; is
it nowhere
but in my imagination; oh no,
it is so real, beyond nowhere, somewhere
where his eyes can’t see,
for Dad drives straight to the liquor store,
prepared to see olives
in his martini; but he’s happy to see geese fly
out my retentive mouth.
Categories:
prodded, bird, dad,
Form:
Free verse
ANGEL
*
* *
* O *
* O *
* O O *
the red, green, silver and gold shimmering,
shaking, prodded, oohed and ahhed,
bulbs color the child’s eyes
#
#
12/13/2019
Categories:
prodded, christmas,
Form:
Kimo
Hello Friends... I suffer from Severe Bi-Polar Disorder and this submission was inspired by
actual events that occured during one of my especially critical manic episodes. Be sure and
read Part 2 to complete the poem and leave your comments on the Part 2 submission. Thank
you for allowing me to share my pain for pain shared is pain diminished
Me, Myself, and I...
“There are things that concern us,”
Consensed my “Selves” in earnest
““We” fear that “I” have succumbed to delusion”
“And after careful deliberation
It is with much hesitation
That we choose to delineate upon this confusion”
“Fact is your intuition
Is riddled with superstition
And your judgment leaves much to be desired”
“So you leave us no recourse
Don’t push us to use force”
It is then that the “I” was summarily fired
I exclaimed “By whose authority?” Response, “Rule of majority”
“The “Myself” and the “Me,” (forthwith the “We”), are experts in our field”
“And with much technique and time
And some forays into the sublime
The nature of your malady will be revealed”
“So to keep yourself from having a fit
Step back and just calm down a bit”
“We,” they said, “certainly have this under control”
“We swear this won’t hurt at all”
Then I felt my inhibitions fall
Still I said a prayer to God that He keep my soul
You know, fact is I do feel off axis
As evidenced by such parapraxis
As this prose that I, (or is it “Us”), seek to pen
And with my mind feeling numb
I finally chose to succumb
And allow the “Me” and the “Myself” to begin
And then came questions in a flurry
Answer, answer and please do hurry
Not one moment of respite did they give
They pushed and they prodded
With every “T” crossed and “I” dotted
My mind felt like it had gone through a sieve
And all this psycho-analysis
Is causing my mind paralysis
The questions, can you stop with the questions please
“Yes, oh yes indeed
I do believe we have what we need
To make an attempt to identify your unknown neuroses”
Categories:
prodded, angst, confusion, death, depression,
Form:
Narrative
Attila the Hun was a kindly old soul
He raped and plundered the land
With the aid of his murderous henchmen all
A truly psychotic man
The kind of man you'd like as a friend
If you love to ransack and pillage
Hitler was another of these murderous souls
Marauding each town and village
Need more of the likes of Benito Mussolini
Such honourable leaders all
But I harken back to Attila the Hun
His exploits leave me enthralled
May seem like I've tumbled over the edge
But I blame it on dear Eileen Ghali
She poked and prodded me into submission
Could no longer dilly and dally
© Jack Ellison 2013
Dedicated to my dear good friend Eileen Ghali!
Categories:
prodded, humorous, tribute, me,
Form:
Quatrain
Each day foul critters infest our house
Though not by slipping in like a mouse
We just press a button
Or buy a subscription
To get news wrote or spoke by a louse
These creatures of the two legged kind
Try hard each day to persuade our mind
With sly information
That helps the causation
Of the falling apart of mankind
They tout the need for unearned welfare
Claim hard earned profits are so unfair
And granting amnesty
Is a good policy
Plus growing our debt is fine they swear
For those who work hard earning their way
Give what they can and put some away
Are sick of the slackers
Prodded by the backers
Whose aim is using half truths to sway
It’s hard to ignore those talking heads
But it’s not right to tear them to shreds
Yet there’s a solution
And with execution
We can spread liberty in their stead
We’ll put Obama pic’s and golf caps
Along with a taped speech that he yapped
In a human sized crate
Coz it’s time to create
A main stream media Have-A-Heart trap
Like it or not, these traps are humane
But anyways, we’ll have much to gain
So, once we have caught
All those who have brought
Disinformation causing brain drain
We’ll squeeze all of them in through a pipe
Along with politicians who hype
Irrationality
And immorality
Into a sphere of the livable type
In there they can tax to the extreme
And promote their harmful fairness schemes
But when they’re out of dough
They will lip read our NO!
Since their bubble is a sound proof dream!
Categories:
prodded, angst, humorous, political,
Form:
Limerick