Best Prods Poems
Pulling with hands soft and smooth as glazed clay,
Her foot prods the pedal, turning the wheel.
She basks in the bliss of a beautiful mess.
She's learned art is born from that carefree mess.
Moulding with hands caked in layers of clay,
She makes artwork dance on that spinning wheel.
Her bones creak along with the aging wheel,
Silver hair spattered by flecks of sweet mess.
She glazes with hands rough and cracked as dried clay.
Beyond clay and wheel, life spins a fine mess.
*Form: Tritina
Categories:
prods, art, life,
Form:
Tritina
Soon the curious swelled to a mob.
as they gathered to gape at the glob.
Someone prods with a stick.
as another screams: " Quick!"
"We must run for our lives! It's the Blob!"
Categories:
prods, fantasy, funny, parody, science
Form:
Limerick
This happened to me twenty-two years ago. I thank God I am still alive.
I feel the ripple in my life's cycle,
impending risk that could rape my soul.
I look in the mirror, but no tears flow.
A virus cramps my shallow feelings,
an ominous glare that obscures.
The pungent smell of disinfectant
the impersonal looks of nursing aides,
the indifference of certain medics,
the fearful looks of other patients,
the smell of living death.
The surgeon comes,
examines,
prods,
feels
listens.
Like an auctioneer's hammer,
going, going, gone.
The verdict is announced,
a triple by-pass,
serious but operable.
"Don't worry, man!"
I look up at the wall
that surrounds my cell,
and see Him hung
on old worn wood.
Is it so difficult, Lord, to die?
Am I on my own in here?
Will I survive?
A tear trickles slowly down my cheek,
but now my inner self is lit.
I wake up from my stupor.
Life is a pattern,
mapped 'til our death,
but no man walks alone.
I smile,
I receive faith.
A glow illuminates my soul.
Tomorrow I may be dead,
but I am sure, Sweet Jesus,
I will survive, for meekly
I accept Your will.
Categories:
prods, hope, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
God’s presence in my life daily is my soul's utmost desire
Such assures me of His love that’s always on fire
Caring and comforting me as His compassions require
Every time I wake up, till even when at night, I retire.
Peace I pray to reign over my soul in God’s presence surely
As His forgiven child by faith in Christ truly
His calmness conquers my fearful heart sweetly
Every time harsh crises surround me tremendously.
In God’s presence is where my soul finds freedom indeed
Fellowshipping with Him, unmindful of time to exceed
While I trust Him earnestly to meet my need
Every time I seek Him so my spirit He can feed.
Joy wraps my soul in God’s presence toward eternity
Dispelling my thoughts of anguish and anxiety
His bliss envelops me with His warm security
Every time He fills me with His gladness’ certainty.
Divine guidance in God’s presence keeps my soul settled
He leads me to His authority where I’m safely handled
His wisdom directs me against being deceived and rattled
Every time I entrust my weary mind that’s embattled.
Holy pursuits hedge my soul around God’s presence*
Away from Him, my goals will have no value or sense
I need His standards to push me toward noble persistence
Every time worldliness pulls me down by its alluring insistence.
Victory awaits my soul in God’s presence thru His power
That prods me forward in my service as His called sower
To bear fruits yielded by my sacrifices blooming as a flower
Every time He rains blessings to me from His heavenly tower.
*1Chronicles 16:27 Glory and honour are in his (GOD's) presence; strength and gladness are in his place.
December 16, 2018
Edited on December 16, 2O22
1st place, "Our souls wish list" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 12/27/2022.
Categories:
prods, blessing, dedication, faith, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Inspirational beauty, comes to life every spring.
The baby birds in their nest, to their mothers still cling.
The hibernating bear, still asleep in his den.
Will soon wake up cranky, so we'll let him sleep in.
Many creatures of beauty, some big and some small.
They thrive in the forest, well into the fall.
The bunnies and squirrel, the lark and the wren.
They know to be quiet, by the sleeping bears den.
But here comes a rat, with a stick in his paw.
Knowing his intent, a raven shrieks in caw.
The rat pokes and prods, the air smells foul.
They wait to hear the sleeping bear's growl.
The rat continues, along on his schlep.
The bear now awakens, poked where he once slept.
Categories:
prods, animal, humor, spring,
Form:
Rhyme
I thank You, my God for Your presence in my life which is my utmost desire
Such assures me of Your love that’s always on fire
Caring and comforting me as Your compassion does require
Every time I wake up, till at night, I retire.
I thank You, my God, for reigning over me lovingly
As Your redeemed child by my faith in Christ genuinely
Your calmness conquers my fearful heart sweetly
Every time harsh crises surround me tremendously.
I thank You, my God since in Your control is where I find freedom indeed
Communing with You, unmindful of time to exceed
While I trust You earnestly to meet my every need
Every time I seek You so my soul You can feed.
I thank You, my God as You grant me Your grace toward eternity
Dispelling my thoughts of anguish and anxiety
Your bliss envelops me with Your warm security
Every time You fill me with Your gladness’ certainty.
I thank You, my God for Your divine guidance that keeps me settled
You lead me toward right authorities where I’m safely handled
Your wisdom directs me against being deceived and rattled
Every time I submit to You my weary mind that’s embattled.
I thank You, my God that You make worthy my existence
Away from You, my goals have no value with motive that's just a pretense
I need Your standards to push me toward noble persistence
Every time worldliness pulls me down by its alluring insistence.
I thank You, my God, for victory that awaits me thru Your power
That prods me forward in my service as Your called sower
To bear fruits yielded by my sacrifices blooming as a flower
Every time You rain blessings to me from Your heavenly tower.
*Romans 7:25 I thank God through Jesus Christ our Lord.
June 28, 2018
3rd place, "My Muse, Mortal" Poetry Contest
Hosted by Gregory R. Barden; judged on 8/21/2018.
Categories:
prods, blessing, christian, faith, god,
Form:
Ode
The poem that I write today
Has always been a thought away.
But do I think of trees, or birds,
As I slyly meter out my words?
Or do I think of spring, or fall,
Of summertime, the sea and all?
Perhaps it is a moon-rinsed night
That prods me so to sit and write--
Or it could be a drop of rain,
If not some nagging doubt, or pain.
What drives my pen to wander so,
To touch the sky; the earth below?
Of all the thoughts, both old and new--
I ponder most the thought of you.
And so the poet takes his pen...
Writes words of love, and falls again!
--Mel
Categories:
prods, lost love, love,
Form:
Couplet
If I have the time I’ll clean the kitchen
then tidy round the rest of the house,
I’m due to see the vet with my pet mouse ...
Ted’s lost his fur and he can’t stop itch’in!
My little pet mouse Ted I just adore
I’ve had him since I was a small child,
alas his itchy skin is driving him wild -
he’s shedding fur all over the floor!
I carry Ted in his cage when I visit the vet
and Ted plays happily on his small wheel,
Vet’s hand enters the cage - he emits a squeal
when he gets bitten by my traumatised pet!
I mop up his blood, then hold Ted in my hand
as the vet examines his scaly red skin,
He pokes and prods much to Ted’s chagrin -
if he can be cured it would be so grand!
Vet gives Ted a shot and applies some cream
then presents me with an enormous bill,
the medication works well, Ted’s no longer ill
and his fur’s grown back just like a dream!
If You Have the Time for an Enclosed Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
12/23/19
Categories:
prods, health, pets,
Form:
Enclosed Rhyme
My spirit is a fighter
determined, never-say-die
The devil tries to deter me
scoffs: Why even bother to try?
I see a mountain above me
towering over the clouds
A wee voice anxiously warns me
Only way to return -- in a shroud
But my spirit is a born climber
nothing if not courageous
Daring danger to defeat him
he maps out a climb for the ages...
I espy swirling waters below me
in which a young lad flails away
Can I swim? Does it matter? --
I've been selected to save the day
My spirit prods me to jump in
grab the boy and struggle to shore
Alive and happy, if exhausted
prepared for the coming encore...
Yes, my spirit is a fighter
determined, never-say-die
taking on every new challenge
looking it square in the eye
____________________________
Entry in 'The Human Spirit' contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
~ September 13, 2022 ~
Categories:
prods, character, courage, humanity, inspirational,
Form:
Rhyme
a small child
crouches
quiet
eyes taken
curious sight
brow creases
in question
it a new thing
these pink shapes
on earthy brown
face
fingers
backs of hands
throat
breasts
half covered
the same
familiar
patterned dress
she child
soft traces
them
on toes
tops of feet
calves
where flame's flowers
seared skin
pink thin
knees
knelt down
in plea
in prayer
kept brown
strange
new tattoos
alien
yet not unearthly
she
small
prods
lashless lids
pats
proud cheekbones
insistent
bows her head
dark hair
falls forward
silk waterfalls
stir shadows'
flit
over
sleeping face
eyes open
wide
fear drains
colour
then
warm
deep brown
they glow
for her
knowingly
Posted: 12-12-2018.
NOTE: No to Xenophobia.
Categories:
prods, child, community, humanity,
Form:
Alliteration
Have life been trying to give you a hint, which you ignore or just plain resent? Maybe you feel there's something you should do only you don't have a clue. So you try to let it fall through but to yourself are you being true?
Now there's something with the world you should share but how can you share when you're completely unaware? Still it pokes, it prods, when it manifest it will have the world awed. Although it act a bit crude because what it do is allude, can even make you brood but once correctly viewed, you'll have all gratitude.
It may come later in your years, you may even have a career, so why should you change for something that's so unclear? However. When you figure it out you'll know what your life is really about and that's without a doubt.
Unfortunately it's in the back of your mind where you try to keep it confined, not knowing it was assigned and between Heaven and Earth you're creating a rift by trying to suppress a God Given Gift.
And the more you try to put that intuition down the more it rebounds and will keep you going around and around.
While some will be content, some will lament and the others who will not relent but represent their God given talent. Nonetheless, will you go for success or will you suppress and wonder forty years in the wilderness.
Just be real, it can make you feel you're in a bind, can make you feel life's unkind but don't let it leave you behind cause if you seek you shall find.
Just remember, the more you try to put it down, the more it rebounds and will keep you going around and around.
Don't let it create a rift or set you adrift. Discover your God Given Gift.
Categories:
prods, adventure, appreciation, beauty, character,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Bedsprings crochet bones together.
His back is sutured to gripes
stitched to gummy joints.
In the toilet, avoiding the mirror,
humming softly,
shunning conversation with himself -
the ceiling drips a sump of memories.
The park --- Frances revolves confused.
"I don't understand."
A phrase with self-winding words.
A slight miscalculation,
a turning away at the precise moment
she turned towards him;
an error of timing really.
Frances whirs on "I don't understand."
Later he understood she overdosed.
He imagines this lethal power
over her life to be his.
Time whittles cavities with calcifications.
Softly the spine of a storybook breaks -
where one stitch patches a sorrow
a spur prods and rips.
When he listens to the hollows
between the long vertebrae of his life,
he hears a theory crumbling away
under slowly grinding cogs.
Categories:
prods, poetry,
Form:
Blank verse
.
Softly
Spring’s wisp
strolls tenderly
Sullen
slowly moving
singing songs of
Spring’s bright
Spring’s warmth
Spring’s buds stringing along mine
sight
Sadly
Spring’s snow
Slowly prods
Spring’s wisp
Surreptitiously
Spring’s wisp aches for
Spring’s
strip
Categories:
prods, snow, song, spring,
Form:
Alliteration
Crofts of humble
mute to grumble
What prods a heart to seek succor?
Fall to tumble
mind a’jumble
spayed fingers join to clasp in prayer.
Flipped to sober
fearless warrior
What tools to fight off plights of fear?
High to lower
wise the warrior
Gains strength and force in quiet’s calm.
Thank you Karen O'Leary...I'll send you
a picture of 'Flip', when I can get back into
Illustrator.:) You're a gentle and kind lady,
and very inspirational!!
Categories:
prods, introspection,
Form:
Verse
-
Tom sat fer-nent the table within a smoker's chair
A table pot of pra-tes and bacon quivers there
The cook an apron dirty wipes the grease and clears her throat
She cooks her husband dinner the children's and the goat's
He smokes his pipe asunder and prods and pokes its shoot
Burnt black his index finger tobacco by the root
Dear wife is it not ready for the pit I have to trot
the horse will soon be ready the timber and the shot
Dear man move to the table the butter there just melt
The pra-tes are King Edwards and tighten up your belt
Tis hot and floury flavour the bacon salty rich
Some milk would be a cooling or you will have a stitch
Dear child come home from school now those shoes a wearing bare
You scholar and a brother of fiddle and of flare
Before you have your pra-tes put turf upon the light
Where's dear dear sister Nancy be home before the night
And Annie did you eat yet asked he a million times
Not yet the lady calls out but yet she never dines
The kettle purring steadily in black and iron cast
A crook a blackened lever and tea for all at last
Hurry up now dear dear Annie the night shift I must go
Some bread some bacon sandwich the night for money sow
The sound of carts a coming and following the man
Oats and horse a chopping the collars and the ham
Goodbye now Cook and ready now depart and bid fair due
My jacket wet and dripping, tonight and on the crew
Carts a pulling coal blast the horses strain and tear
A fire man's instruction and all are quite aware
Black sandwich square the dusty air take soda made with fruit
I hope one day I'll get away and always wear a suit
The night is done and Annie come to greet me on the mat
Without you dear I'd not be here my life my joy my cap
(1940s- West of Ireland)
Ian foley- for the :Middle Of The Road Contest
Categories:
prods, family, night, home, home,
Form:
Rhyme