Probed Poems | Examples

UFO chased us into the sixties

in 1966 the UFOs were so plentiful they chased us town to town
Back when our mothers vacuumed in pearls and an evening gown.
We were terrified we would be lifted up and probed unmercifully.
I think I feared UFOs and alien surgeries until about 1973.

An Editor Grills a Cub Reporter

“You got the goldfish interview, as asked?”
“I did, sir, but he lacked the wherewithal
to answer me coherently, I fear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? The fishing section
is looking pretty thin. You showed up masked?”
“Of course I did. That goldfish flu’s no joke.
He said he’s scared of casual infection.”
“Your killer question, then? Your master stroke?”
“What is the capital of Senegal?
My curver, that one: it’s my knuckle-ball.”
“You got a cogent answer?” “Nowhere near.
He knew, he said, but couldn’t now recall.”
“His love life? Did you ask?” “He yelled, objection!
He said, that’s why he hates newspaper folk.”
“But that’s the very thing with which you’re tasked –
to get the sexy stuff! You think he’s *****?”
“He said he’d tell me after taking coke.
It seemed to me a little circumspection
might do the trick.”  “Unmitigated gall
is what I call it. What I want to hear
is, if he’s in that witness thing – protection.”
“I got the feeling he was trying to stall –
I probed him, but he had no recollection.”

Reflections of the Past, Visions of the Future

Tying the knot,
I thought sowed my soul.
Making me a better man,
But I discovered the lack.

Learning how to respect one another.
Loving another at the cost of loving myself.
Unrequited pain, a new form of loneliness.
The body exposing it through night terrors.

Ending with a big bang.
I rebirthed being alone.
In darkness He did his magic.
Cementing my non-negotiables.

Yet again I stand with another.
Uncomfortable comfortable.
Both of us with a checkered past.
Trepidation with hands on the wheel.

Wiser with a touch of grayscale.
A new kind of love we embark.
Both of us have probed for faults.
Scared of what seems perfection.

I stand with her having shaking hands.
And a fearful smile from my past.
I look over to see her response.
For once trepidation turns to tranquil.

She reads me like a book.
Caring where no one has before.
Nurturing my every wince.
The chips are landing perfectly.

More is Less

How you feel is not enough,
You as this is less than function,
Avert the feel, replace with stuff,
Or suffer states, disjunction.

Comparing scrambled eggs to buzzing locust,
To the mumbled mind within you,
Hocus pocus, lack of locus,
There's too much to think or do.

Is it magic, the spectacle, the prance of flicked rays?
Distracting as you navigate your ways,
Through this nothing filled by gaze.

The TV sounds like lightbulbs burnt,
The filament ablaze; fidelity.
Tinnitus chimes, claiming weren't;
External cause for remedy.

I can feel the TV hum, the windows wake my earlobes,
Aghast by glass, the lampposts shook,
I'd rather nether regions probed.

I sense that I can't sense a thing,
Nothing lurks beneath my brain,
Haunting me to always bring,
The me who flees from fear and pain.

Poisons for potions, 
Pills provide motions,
A corpus of nervous commotions,
Despite that, these without,
I'm better about,
But me: I continue to doubt.

Working The Swing Shift

Sweet juices spilt Spring, free thee greeneries
ye lands amend, then weave to Summer's eve 
ere its proclaim windswept name, a said leave
from Indian grabbed drum who beat the trees
sown years to be, made wholly thick of leaves
that fairs their surrender the length life cleave
presence parting, color-filled glimpses, grieve
end tone boughs under the rainbow it heaves.

Promised life gift wrap, belly breathless dews
touch, process the fallen heaps, hues go dark
as arched sensed the passing, a rainbow drift  
abroad, probed closures, 'tis bit of year, clues
deem it's Autumn, chills stretch a wintry mark
tho' Thanksgiving's present in the swing shift.

After the party I woke up in a tropical Island

the weather was hot, women were hot,
the beer was cool, and I had a few!
the food was so good, I gorged a lot,
slept with a beauty I hardly knew.
the waves roared in and splashed out all night,
coconut palms wriggled belly dance,
the full moon was drunk and flickered light,
the bats hung upside down in seance! 
around me was laughter and giggles,
weather and drinks bring best in romance,
all shapes, all ages, like coloured pickles,
jam of humanity grab their chance!
sunny morn probed my sedated sense,
knocked on my eyelids to open door,
I swore profanities! no offence,
sleep was heaven, and I wanted more!
soon i was nudged on my naked butt,
by an unknown paw, I kicked it off,
in my mind i thought- must be some s*ut
and mumbled something to say f*** off!
Then surprise! a big tongue licked my face,
I opened one eye, saw a black bear,
I got up and ran! feared it might chase,
but the bear looked away, did not care,
But I ran and ran like in a race!
I still recall those days of travels,
and many tales that I can tell,
but thought of that bear churns my bowels,
its black tail is a nightmare from hell!

Vanished Like Mist

                                               Vanished Like Mist


Now I wonder, ponder, persuade the mind to wander in an abyss of what may be

Plowed and clawed then probed to find a reason for frenetic rumblings within me

As time passed unabated, skin hides pain beneath waves of what these eyes see

The heart trembled: is myopia or enmity reason why I have not found Amy Lee?


Love is not a game man coerces into submission then drags its spirit underwater

Auguring, kneeling, begging will not make it acquiescent to what one may prefer

Precious memories evoked by the hungry heart impalpably depart and disappear

What remains are remnants, reminders of the haunting past...that I had lost her








06/17/2023
Vision of the Seas
Cruising towards Hamilton, Bermuda

Fear of Abduction By Alien Life

colorful pifflewigs
probed my brain cells with their vivid violet claws
talon digs

twelve orange eyes
observe the trembling of my jaws
their prize

my tears
alien laws
fears

colorful pifflewigs
observe the trembling of my jaws
fears

Refugee's Not Aliens

Refugees
Not aliens, once citizens
reduced to Stateless beings
Not because of own making
On run as find life simmering
due to anarchy set afire
by mindless Power bearers
Womb of their myopic terror
sans umbilical cord giving birth
to orphan refugees on Mother Earth

Refugees 
ignored by 
Heartless Progressive tribes 
some busy in fun trip to Mars 
some  listed as Forbes billionaire 
some relishing edible gold powder
some using gilted commodes,cars 
while refugee families live in fear
in temporary abodes near border
sans food, clothes, clean water 

Refugees
ensnared pawn in crossfire 
beart brunt, while killers 
of Refugee's Nationality
aren't probed, booked, jailed ! 
Lady Justice stands blindfolded 
Scales tilted against Refugees
Sword not chopping cruelty gross
Killers of Refugee's identity 
roaming scot-free with impunity 

Refugees 
man-made menace
pose a great challenge
Society should ensure
none is made to flee 
as after effects are grave
Refugee can turn bad apple
rotting full basket of Humanity 
shaming HIS Creativity
humiliating HIS Divinity
______________________________
© Dr Hitendra Mehta, India ????

Refugee's Not Aliens

Refugees
Not aliens, once citizens
reduced to Stateless beings
Not because of own making
On run as find life simmering
due to anarchy set afire
by mindless Power bearers
Womb of their myopic terror
sans umbilical cord giving birth
to orphan refugees on Mother Earth

Refugees 
ignored by 
Heartless Progressive tribes 
some busy in fun trip to Mars 
some  listed as Forbes billionaire 
some relishing edible gold powder
some using gilted commodes,cars 
while refugee families live in fear
in temporary abodes near border
sans food, clothes, clean water 

Refugees
ensnared pawn in crossfire 
beart brunt, while killers 
of Refugee's Nationality
aren't probed, booked, jailed ! 
Lady Justice stands blindfolded 
Scales tilted against Refugees
Sword not chopping cruelty gross
Killers of Refugee's identity 
roaming scot-free with impunity 

Refugees 
man-made menace
pose a great challenge
Society should ensure
none is made to flee 
as after effects are grave
Refugee can turn bad apple
rotting full basket of Humanity 
shaming HIS Creativity
humiliating HIS Divinity
______________________________
© Dr Hitendra Mehta, India ????

drawn -

you …

came to me today
(from anon)
wholly untold to your concerns
but real enough …
I was plodding the beach, tending wounds
when you tossed your smile at
me from a shrouded sun
off whitecaps, bursting into dazzle -
echoes, alit
each a memory, recaptured
brief as a blink …
but I was transfixed, as always
immersed in your burnt ochre irises
gold flecks like shiny confetti, fluttering
they hadn’t held me since …
forever, really
and as then, the brilliance within
was unsettling -
a piercingly perceptive acumen that
probed, unchallenged
though your countenance always
smoothed the edges -
a bubbly exuberance and gravity
an eager affability -
thawed everything around you
and … everyONE
effecting the grandest of illusions
that whatever you aimed your attentions at
was your dearest concern
and your one TRULY careful involvement …
when in all actuality
we -
the matter and matters about you -
were just a multitude of
merry moths …

to your flame.







Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 8, 2023

Where Would I Have Learned To Lie

The spaceship was atypical.
Her aliens unlike any I had visualized.
Questions they asked were silly.
No one probed me.

I laughed at their striped skin and their extra eyes.
They reminded me of googly eyed teddy bears.
Except they were thinner, and they seemed silly.
I was rude; I admit it.

I tried to share my gum with one of them.
You have to chew it first, he said. “I can never get it started.”
This grossed even me out, but I shared it anyway.
He popped it into his left ear which confused me.

The aliens never brought a McGillacudy back that quickly said Mom.
My father called me a liar, he was never taken.
Where would I have learned to lie? I asked him.
Chuckling all the way to my dragon’s den.
I knew he had never caught a forty-six-pound goldfish
Or tamed crocodiles in the Nile.

Halloween Dreams

I slumbered, nestled in the bed,
trapped in a horror, steeped in dread.
I’d had that awful dream again;
long tendrils probed inside my brain.

They’d severed my umbilic cord,
and left a dead, unfeeling gourd.
My matter splashed, my brainpan scooped,
and now a magic marker looped

in creepy patterns on my skin:
cruel eyes, slit nose, a horrid grin.
But worse, I saw the glint of steel,
and winced at how that blade would feel.

I could not scream, nor could I shout;
although I tried, no sound came out.
Whew! Two firm hands shook me awake,
then, “Mom, this is the one I’ll take.”


————-

for the 12-16 Lines of a Scary Halloween Rhyme Poetry Contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
written on 10/13/22

St Kabeer Couplets 2: I Was No Less Mean

Looking out for the wicked,
I found no one so crooked,
When probed my deep within,
Me, that meanest of mean!
____________________________

Bura jo dekhan main chala, bura na milya koye,
Jo munh khoja apna, to mujhse bura na koye.

We always look far and wide for evil leaving out ourselves as innocent. But if we were to put a mirror in front of us we would soon find the truth that we are no less evil. Alas we won’t see what we wish not to see.  

Poet’s Note: 
Kabeer was a revolutionary poet saint. He wrote some 800 couplets called dohe in his mother tongue prevailing then. They dealt with many aspects of life that he observed during his lifetime, and whereby he challenged the prevailing practices of religions, sects, castes, and human behaviour. His couplets reflect true vision of spirituality (rather than religion). Even after centuries, his couplets are read by the seekers from across the globe. Here is a poetic translation of some selected couplets. The couplet number seen here is the serial number from a compilation of some 550 of them translated by me.

If

If printers in heart posted be,
Sweet memoirs printed can be.

Many a new taste tasted be,
Relations if tested can be.

An empty pan of poverty
Mused: if these stones roasted can be. 

Fair postmortem probed can it be
If tears shed, lab-tested can be. 

This breath that burns consistently,
As a reserve fuel kept can be!
______________________________  
Ghazals |02.07.2022| 

Poet’s Note: Not translation, I call it trans-creation (of a poem in Gujarati by poet Jugal Darjee (Master)).

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