Best Provender Poems


Taking My Camel To Town

I’m taking my camel to town,
do you got a problem with that?
I’m gonna get him some fresh water
and clean provender
What cha say,
they don’t sell to his kind?!
He’s the finest mottled brown,
this side of the Sahara desert sand
This camel got the blackest spots
	        mixed in
Proof that the sun
	calls him his friend
While I’m in town,
I’m gonna buy my beautiful animal
a white straw hat
Do you have a problem with that?
Categories: provender, animal, color, discrimination, prejudice,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Goodness As a Vibration

GOODNESS AS  A VIBRATION

I love only what is good, and this aesthetic
Delights the blind man, for he can feel
Shimmer like a moth at his elbow, my pathetic
Sighs of creation in making what’s real, 

And he can distinguish the dark shrouds
Of faces where wicked deeds were splendour,
He can detect the feast of envy, and loud
Avenues of fame, their soul’s provender.

A child glistens with beauty like a rain-
Drop, dancing with the feet of time,
Innocence is bliss only when his pain
Of not seeing is absent, for he hurts like lime

Thrown in the faces of perceived sinners -
Who say horses backed on principle are not winners.
Categories: provender, appreciation, blessing,
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Muzzle Loader

Above my hearth rests a muzzle loader I know not how old.
Ah, could it speak, what adventurous tales to be told!
Oft I've caressed it and pondered time and again,
About where it was made and who its owners might have been!

Lewis and Clark may have used it in their daring odyssey,
To carry out Jefferson's dream and quest for Manifest Destiny!
Could it have been shouldered by Dan'l Boone, that hardy pioneer,
In his exploration of Kentucky to expand the western frontier?

Could it have reposed above the hearth of a humble cabin abode,
Ever ready to keep at bay whatever peril may have bode?
I'm sure it was used by a father with all his skill and ardor,
To provide provender for his family's ever scanty larder!

Perhaps it was fired by a Yank or Reb clashing upon the field of strife,
Brother against brother, bent on sending the other to eternal life!
Mayhaps a grizzled mountain man of the Rocky Mountain west,
Toted it in his quest for beaver fur of which he was obsessed!

Maybe it was aboard a Conestoga wagon pulled by plodding teams,
And carried by a man heading west to fulfill his family's dreams!
I suppose I could attach to it any fanciful tale I might choose,
But about its ancient and mysterious past I much prefer to muse!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories: provender, historymay, , western,
Form: Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Stalk of Corn

Oh you stalk of corn,
How withered you look now,
Stripped of honour and full of scorn
Oh you stalk!, now you bow,
 you have remained standing only
 as a provender for stalls and fodder

Once in full bloom, you were the
 cynosure of the farmer
Paying homage to you regularly
 giving you largesse
 of herbicides' and fertilizers' 

The delight of greenery, the envy of 
 weeds, the lusting of goats and sheep.
The stalk of corn of yore days.

Your peak outlast, your decline at last
Your grains harvested, gladdens the heart
 of many wearied;
In dough's of pies, in puddings and porridge's.
The pangs of hunger you salvaged for man
 and for beasts

Your seeds await your demise oh stalk 
 of corn,
To take your place in the vicious cycle 
 of life by the farmer

Oh corn stalk, you are bowed and
 withered waiting for the set time.
Corn stalk, I salute you, take a bow
 for now.
You have fulfilled purpose and destiny.

   (written on 20/09/2016)
Categories: provender, allusion, analogy, farm, growth,
Form: Prose Poetry

Dormant Seed

A solitary kernel for lack of succoring nurture aggrieved
From sun's warm caresses seasonally bereaved
With wind's chilling strides constantly plucked, heaved
Lying on fallowed ground whose cloak now desleaved
With frigid mantle over frostbitten spine weaved
Nutrient-rich pores of their cultivating provender relieved
As brittle husk to its fibrous moorings tightly cleaved
So coarse grains to earthen crevices, pockets sheathed
Dormant, but from bludgeoned shell will not secede
Nor Summer's bountiful harvest deed
A sparse, unfurnished bed temporarily bequeathed
Until providentially-rendered elements have new life breathed
Still yet, creator hath numbered all and due rations perceived
Until Spring's availing tides have Winter's corroded channels reprieved
And life's, generating tenants from their frozen prisons freed
Categories: provender, angst,
Form: Rhyme

Perdition Be Damned

Perdition Be Damned!

Body electric zapped
lower gastrointestinal tract
wracked with wretchedness
pitted, rocked, and tortured
severe muscle spasms cramp
deathly hallowed deliverance

beseech divine creator to exorcise relief
any panacea trumpeted vetoed
pestilential nausea diarrhea
wreaks relentless havoc
horrid ordeal twists insides
lack strength to live

breathing a laborious effort
bedrest temporarily alleviates
generally healthy ironclad junket
weatherbeaten rickety ship of state
restorative sought trouncing unwell
corporeal self against torture

assailing, castrating, 
and drubbing existence
avocations ordinarily promulgating 
resplendent joie de vivre
squelched, scotched, and sabotaged,
courtesy minuscule mailer daemons

emotions unlikely culprit,
though times gone by anxiety
tindered, pitched, and kindled
abominable irritable bowel syndrome
prescription medication tempered
badgering, crippling, and debilitating

panic attacks plagued this primate
manifesting feeble endeavor
to experience poignant satiation,
asper simple pleasures nonexotic
endeavors merely passively living
as one organic carbon based

human being finding fulfillment
meditating, reading, and writing,
now fleeced, deprived, and blitzed
suspicious disagreeable provender
perhaps lactose intolerance

after enjoying pizza birthday
fours days prior
celebrating chronological centenary,
sans one frail resident here,
Highland Manor Apartments
suddenly, I feel chill o' rigor mortis!
Categories: provender, atheist, death, father, funeral,
Form: Free verse


Our Daily Bread Community Food Pantry

The spouse betook monthly outing
today May 4th, 2022 
to 3938B Ridge Pike, 
Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426.

No more bare cupboards,
fridge, and deep freezer
since returning with more than
our share of daily bread,
plus other sundry provisions
referring to this mister, who
frightfully squawks like an old geezer,
ruler of roost,
plus the missus – ole hen pecker
nevertheless, neither of us 
ain't no spring chicken

being locked within crosshairs
constituting elderly stage, 
she doth dread
feeling like a charity case
swallows her pride, 
cuz ample carload for us,
alleviating this bum searching
for crumbs to tweezer,
thus  raw bits of powdermilk biscuits,
I need not scavenge, scrape, scrounge...
substantial commestibles

allows poet taster to breathe easy
inadequately satiates the missus,
(whose Godzilla appetite) defies
(cole) laws of nature to beef fed
predominantly healthy food,
that weighted our automobile like a led
zeppelin choking, intermittently
kickstarting, sputtering... along,
asper in (faux wheel) drive wheezer
putting utmost pressure
borne by taxing groovy tire tread.

Once mission (not so impossible,
but blessed relief) complete, I did aim
upon returning where we live
to acknowledge gratitude and claim
salvation for charitable deeds,
yours truly doth exclaim,
these volunteers, none I know by name,
nonetheless, a hearty poetic L'Chaim
afforded folks, who commandeer,
confidently coordinate quite efficient process

despite minor lament regarding
heavy toll stressing bulwark
quaking chassis, ripsnorting driveshaft,
shimmying entire automobile frame...,
hence no matter
our exhausted 2009 Hyundai Sonata
puttered along somewhat lame,
kudos to dedicated good samaritans,
worth their weight in gold to tame
hungrily growling, noisily rumbling tummies.

Healthy choices allow, enabled,
and provided us to secure provender
eases glum countenance of this clown
gratuity finds me bowing down
paying metrical obeisance
versus depleting meager monies
engendering botox frown
nipping in bud
forestalling need going 
to preferred market such as
Aldi, LIDL, Redner's, Target
or Trader Joe's grocery shopping 
to the nearest town.
Categories: provender, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme

Migrating For the Winter

Bereft of warmth and succoring provender
But girded with the fortitude providence doth tender
Internal compass the charted course doth render
Steeled to navigate rough skies with built-in aerometer
Dislodged flocks flying south for winter
A winged armada pushing through shearing blender
Swirling masts soar into celestial splendor
In gallant ranks parade o'er corroding timber
In tight formations to withstand every passing rigor
Skirting every obstacle human craft can engender
Gliding through the availing winds, an astute orbiter
Categories: provender, animals
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Lioness

Prowling 
Predator
Preying
Upon 
Possible 
Provender
For 
Pride.
Categories: provender, animal,
Form: Free verse

Daily Bread Community Food Pantry

No more bare cupboards,
fridge, and deep freezer
since returning with more than
our share of daily bread
referring to this mister, who

frightfully squawks like an old geezer,
plus the missus
also ain't no spring chicken,
being locked within crosshairs
elderly stage, she doth dread

ample carload for us,
alleviating this bum searching
for crumbs to tweezer,
thus powdermilk raw bits of biscuits,
I need not scavenge, scrape, scrounge...

substantial commestibles
allows poet taster to breathe easy
inadequately satiates the missus,
(whose Godzilla appetite) defies
(cole) laws of nature to beef fed
predominantly healthy food,

that weighted our automobile like a led
zeppelin choking, intermittently
kickstarting, sputtering... along,
asper in (faux wheel) wheezer
putting utmost pressure
borne by taxing groovy tire tread.

Once mission (not so impossible,
but blessed relief) complete, I did aim
upon returning where we live
to acknowledge gratitude and claim
salvation for charitable deeds,

yours truly doth exclaim,
these volunteers, none I know by name,
nonetheless, a hearty poetic L'Chaim
afforded folks, who commandeer,
confidently coordinate quite efficient process

despite minor lament regarding
heavy toll stressing bulwark
quaking chassis, ripsnorting driveshaft,
shimmying entire automobile frame...,
hence no matter

our exhausted 2009 Hyundai Sonata
puttered along somewhat lame,
kudos to dedicated good samaritans,
worth their weight in gold to tame
hungrily growling, noisily rumbling tummies.

healthy choices allow, enabled,
and provided us to secure provender
eases glum countenance of this clown
gratuity finds me bowing down
paying metrical obeisance

versus depleting meager monies
engendering botox frown
nipping in bud
forestalling need going 
grocery shopping 
to the nearest town.
Categories: provender, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Free verse

Repast For June 13th 2020

Repast for June 13th, 2020...
(and countless provender
scores of years gone by)...
to partake larding refrigerator cupboards
think respectable food vendor.

Courtesy Montgomery County
(Pennsylvania) Assistance Office in general
and Electronic Benefit Transfer
(EBT) card in particular.

Yes, I (a mere tenderloin) reckonize
a long overdue thank you
wouldrequiremorethanone breath whew
but a clear and
distinct preference necessitates
easy to read and understand view

versus merely typing gobbledygook,
which would invite
yours truly typing Urdu
(which language I know
absolutely nothing about... true)

but lack of familiarity
never stopped me stew
wing anonymous readers
with ire, now I rue
men hate, yepper after

forcing anonymous readers
to wade, née (nearly drown)
into thicket of quo
titty yen verbiage, invariable
coming across as po
i.e. half assed poet,

whose self impressive smugness
amounted to diddly squat,
thee immediate answer
obviously, an emphatic,
Italic, unchic... "NO"
quite surprised if

"PLEASE SIR, I WANT MO!"
your unequivocal response,
which counter reply "LO
AND BEHOLD" would
casually follow suit ya know,

cuz all kidding aside,
yours truly (me), an average Joe
King garden variety,
and generic bot ready
for thee to interview

me, ultimately, preferably,
and ideally hue
not linkedin to
those awful *****sapiens
though... as a baby going goo
goo gaga, they seem

exclusive as Fontainebleau
(Area: 66.43 mi²)
regarding comprehending et tu
probably agree, that babies
create an abundance of do do
unapproachable as motley crew

who stoically man/woman
aforementioned French town
southeast of Paris where
sun shines every day, 
and sky always blue.
Categories: provender, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme

At Three O'Clock In the Morning

AT THREE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING 

trucks toil the city’s streets, 
a minuet of practiced precision, 
to the pulsating rhythm, 
to the incessant beat. 

they parade and pause, 
they roll-on. stop. 
roll-on. stop. roll-on. stop. 

they parade their wares. 
sons. sons of sons. sons of sons of sons. 
daughters, a grand-daughter too. 

purveyors on the prowl before another dawn, 
treading black ribbons, 
streets, whose crisscrossed form 
divides and marks the territory. 
butchers and bakers, fishmongers, 
greengrocers, candle-makers all. 

they unload loaves and lettuce. 
candles and sweet cane. 
sustenance. need. want. frill and frolic. 
unload profit and provender 
for mongers all, large and small. 

crusted long loaves steaming to the touch, 
the yeasty aroma a nostrum to nostrils and lungs. 

the city’s demands. the city demands.    
 
a small, brown-yellow knot-limbed man, 
checks cardboard crates, bushels and pecks. 
he sets to replenishing large, open, 
shallow wood slatboxes 
cramping every sidewalk 
with colors yellow-red-orange-purple-green. 
each rising from a steady square base 
     into pyramids of 
orange-pear-grape-banana-apple-tomato. 
native and exotic, in season or not. 

guarding all this in plastic greencups: 
captain chrysanthemum.   

inside are muffins of cornmeal and oat, 
berries black and blue. cranberry. 
bran with and without raisins. 
muffins crowncrusted, each cellocaped 
waiting for a rushing hand.

eat my love, eat. i’m here my love. 
forgive me as you sleep. 
sleep. it’s three o’clock in the morning.


                      ###
Categories: provender, age, metaphor,
Form: Free verse

Turn Off the Room

I met a man on the road today
otherworldly, gamin, fey.
A gimlet look in his jaundiced eye,
he held my gaze and I questioned why
he wandered here, 
a mendicant man of pleasant demeanour, 
when, from his coat, he produced an ocarina
and proceeded to play a tune so jolly
yet full of pathos and melancholy
that my soul was transported to another place,
another dimension in time and space,
where I danced and dined and wined and made merry
with Fauns and Satyrs and the Juniper berry.
Great Pan himself held court over all,
and many and varied were held in his thrall,
as nymphs and faeries pranced and disported
my view of the world was skewed and distorted.
As mushrooms and toadstools were proffered and ate
a table of provender was assembled and set.
My pupils dilated and my eyes grew ever wider
and I promised myself to stay off scrumpy cider.
© John Jones  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: provender, drink, fantasy, fun,
Form: Free verse
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

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