Short Fodder Poems

young people of love
people magazine fodder
they star?do they bathe?...

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Mid life crisis worth
wear and tear
cannon fodder curse



6-17-18...

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emerald meadow
rich plush svelte fibrous carpet
cheap trite sheep fodder...

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Dream schemes come and go,
Invented by each event;
Fodder for stories.
...

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I given fodder to dead a fish yesterday
They said too much
I know,it is a blind alley
the problem was already there...

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dragons fly
burning fodder
land hoe.

sea gulls fly
over water
"Land Ho!"

pesky fly
dodging swatter
"Land! Ho!"

deborah burch©
4/11/2012...

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poetry soup 
nourishes the soul
delivering smooth and creamy 
fodder
in a community bowl 
for all to share
i am a crouton ...

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Feeding hope to the flame
  fodder to the mystery

Light unto the darkness
 —life begins again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2015)...

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Feeding hope to the flame
  fodder to the mystery

Light unto the darkness
  —life begins again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2015)...

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Tanka 
Milk maids and romance 
In the hay of romp and love 
Mules ate the fodder 
Bare floorboards on the hayloft 
But fragrance of love remains....

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How many have died,
does anyone count?
Wars erupt, guts spill.
Under the churning soil
broken flesh turns to fodder.
Grubs grow fat
but who's counting?...

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Life's never been better for Miss Sally
Got her copy of Rand-McNally
Geography teacher’s dream
Perfect fodder for a meme
Since new road maps are right up her alley.


March 16, 2021...

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Political Elite
Protected Class
Ivory Towers
Deceitful Cast
Foolish Games
Wasting Time
Dirty Swamp
Committing Crime

Above the law
the fodder be
of course it's you
of course it' me....

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Improving and Behoving

As more poems I write, they are improving;
And for you to read them all I am behooving;
Poems to read;
Fodder to feed;
Provide delightful experience that is moving.

Jim Horn...

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Becoming irrelevant
  at last to yourself

The choices have narrowed
   the joy seldom felt

The present redundant
  what’s left in the end

The fodder of memory
  —and you to pretend

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2015)...

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A fool
A rich father
A poor boy
A dream
The theater
Of experience
One whines
The other screams
The reckoning
Once predicted
Is here
The world in flames
The fool
Just canon fodder
The boy,
—his riches claimed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)...

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A fool
A rich father
A poor boy
A dream
The theater
Of experience
One whines
The other screams
The reckoning
Once predicted
Is here
The world in flames
The fool
Just canon fodder
The boy
  —his riches claimed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)...

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WORK WOES OF TODAY

last minute meeting, rolled

out of bed, in underwear.

with blurry eyes staggering,

down the split-level stairs.

rolling eyes meeting

cancelled. grumbling.

Kim Rodrigues © 2017

*poor spouses of poets - always fodder for poetry...

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Not what I thought, perhaps,
Or maybe less than I expected. 
There are more unfulfilled wishes-dreams-wants
Than I'd hoped for. 

Is my tearlessness tribute
Or betrayal?
I cannot tell,
Won't ask. 

What else could memories of you become 
But nightmare fodder?...

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Neap tide rising by minutes
swirls me in upset sand
     gritty
       irritating
         chaffing
catches in creases
of furrowed brow.
 Washed up fodder
gifted from the sea
   adds to my heap
   of disuse.
 Backtracks undent the
   sand
unmarking my passage....

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The deer... pensive in its musings
Nibbling tender grass and leaves.
While those who traffic sorrow
To not let these creatures be.

As the deer may hold opinions
Not shared by those around...
Making it fodder for a Universe
That rewards egregious hounds.

               The End...

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I'm Olive, a once flatulent cow.
Spinach is all I eat now.
That silly green grass
is a thing of the past,
for a new wind is blowing this hour.
To methane reduction all power!
If you're a cow too,
show assent by a moo.

Comment:
What could be odder
than this switch to new fodder?...

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Harvest time

 Golden acres of wheat 
soon the harvester will cut you down
make you into bread and fodder 
I remember when you were tall as me
and the north- west wind  
tried to flatten you but you
bent with the wind 
At sunrise rose like a peace- army
Hell bent on becoming flour...

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I used to be a foot soldier in my own civil war.
I used to be both a cannon and its fodder.
It took a lot of killing to bury that old self,
still, on occasions, it struggles to escape
an old war grave,
its blood-soaked hands reaching upwards
to seek out this more tranquil veteran
I have become....

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The prisoner


Neath the sword of Damocles
the vassal lays supine
gazing up at bitter fate
an endless space of time
threadbare death above him
Hades there below
sacrificial fodder
carrion for the crow
echoing inside his head
he hears the gavel fall
liberty and truth betrayed
injustice for us all...

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