Sods Poems | Examples

Speed Limits

They pose with the austere stares of
Loving, friendly ghosts —tall, gaunt and lissome,
With big, rounded head.
Draped in weathered robes of care,
They are the only guardian spirits we see.
They have the calming power,
Where drunken machines run amok
Through broiling engine oils
And reckless crankshafts,
Spitting gas, and brittle axles.
Roads are unpredictable.
In winter they storm with the quiet rage of
Sods, dragging queens and whims . . .
Guide me, O limits of spirits!
Check my fattened excesses for fibrosis.
Darkness thickens —even by feast-time of the sun.

Limited options or ww3'

To many lines now crossed!! Putin weighs carefully the
Odds..Stakes are nuclear by now to many (stupid sods!)
Pushed the row ' Heads must roll.' They will pay their own
Toll.' Gay-ne of function..and its resultant unction?
Perhaps we should enter into the more sustainable world
Functions.?

Quandary Resolved

The wheels fell off my thingamajig
as a thingy
came loose in the whachamacallit
or perhaps it was the doodad
on the wotsit
which was the cause to stall it
and it'll take a few odds 'n' sods
plus a new doodah
and some hoo-ha
to make the gizmo
or doohickey
go again so
not to take the mickey
but prep the whole whoop-de-do
to look like new
I'll probably plop
for purchasing the gubbins
or bits and bobs
in a thingamabob
shop
and possibly more
at a whatnot
store

The Grand Town of Macroom

Along the Muskerry Light Railway
One can watch the flowers bloom
It will not be much longer now
’Til the old town of Macroom

Arriving at the station
Collecting bags from overhead
To depart I am too keen
After all it is just not
The train letting off steam

The cattle mart’s in action
I better not be late
As a deal on a good Dexter cow
In the next lot I await

A good time to grab the paper
And some salted butter too
The Urban District Council is convening
I wonder what they’ll do

Sods of turf are being loaded
On a cart they’ll set their course
Up the dirt road to Clondrohid
The little donkey’s tour-de-force

I ask for the donkey’s name
“Father Peadar,” I am told
“A good writer he must be,” I said
A decision rather bold

To my lodgings, I head forth
Owned by a local businessman
No need to pay ‘till signing out
That sounds like a plan

What to do about news fakers

We seek them here ,
We seek them there,
These will-of-the wisps that quickly disappear,
Only to reappear again to whisper into a different ear,
These clever sods who can make anything appear real,
Unable to comprehend that it is in harm they deal.

I think we need a bigger net,
That has not been invented yet,
Maybe it is time to call in a vet.

And when they are finally caught,
Pay their room and board,
Until we be sure they are no longer bored,
And we have found a use for their skills,
That pays their bills,
Without the need to bend the ears of other to their will,
Til they no longer ask 'is it real',
And see no reason to look outside their window,
To verify they are watching the fall of actual snow.

Turn the Devil On His Head

The world in sudden chaos,  
we hear the silent whispers but dare not say a word
Shrouded in uncertainty is our vision now so
blurred? 
We go about our business as if it all is fine 
But the world is full of messages, so hard for us to define 
The way we live has changed all helped along by us
And now it’s becoming difficult we all kick up A fuss.
 Hunger, poverty, displacements, genocide, 
Atrocities, war, suppression, oppression
To name but a few, 
It’s happening all over,
But that’s a fact we knew.
What’s happening in all The world 
is now sign of times
The devil will be paying for all his violent crimes. 
It’s always been a cesspit, this planet ruled by hate, 
By greedy power hungry sods who knows when they be sate! 
The hatred is exploding like rockets in the skies
The news and reporters blaming, trying to demonise. 
You cannot combat evil 
When you are fuelled with hate
The truth is what is written 
That is the human fate. 
if we all come together and offer peace instead,
We shall turn upon the Devil and turn him
On his head!!!!

Home's a Wreck

Too many listen and give in to domestic terrorism/
Home’s a wreck and terror’s risen for our children/
Most don’t inspect many carry on missing radicalism in their own colosseum/
No call to see ‘em no wall we’ll greet ‘em /
I’ll sprawl and take any call to free them from whatever bad man/
From the tales we’re told as kids too tall for our short attention span/
To the guide rails blurred /
As they asked his to crawl when they need to get walking/
You see them down that’s the only way you’re kicking it with kin/
It’s true I’m on a path of a one pony savior gripping it and withering/
All new weathering whether winning or taking a slipping loss never falling/
Re-gripping your loft to grow a new crop for your own sods sawing

Odd Sods Nursery Rhyme

Odds and sods with change of strange
You my think you feared what’s weird
But what you’ll find within your mind
Has likely in others also appeared

Change of strange with odds and sods
Embrace your differences unique
Keep so cheery with self owned eerie
Envy lies in others critique

Strange sods will change the odds
The ones who keep it interesting
And go far are those most bizarre
In rhyme worth time investing

So never rearrange your strange
To fit followers or serious sods
The ones who grow and change
Are curious ones who beat the odds

Feb 22, 2023
Nursery Rhyme Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper

Christmas 647

A stare across the grassy fields revealed.
Covered with frost, they lay quiet and still.

Their position clearly had a restful feel,
One which will leave them in decline until

Next Spring when they break from their clods.
Few but farmers will notice their weeping sods.

Another look across the horizon did not conceal,
But rather had an arrested scene with the power to heal.

Upon further gaze, there was a tree-lined face,
Laced in a pattern of awesomeness, beauty, and grace.

Nature's way is imposing as she unfolds her art to us,
But she's always advancing in motion, never posing for us.

So, with these words, I capture her mesmerizing display.
If I do nothing else, I will treasure this heavenly scene today.

The moment is ever swift of feet and shall never return.
Embraced by her loveliness, I boarded her fleeting scene.

The skies are blue with high-flying clouds, peaceful and far.
And the sunrise blasts from afar like a high-powered star.

Like cloud patterns, such views never come to stay.
But today, it's Christmas, and they're shouting, "HEY"!

647AM122522PS

In Broken Praise

Broken dreams, and smiles and flowers
Grow apace throughout our fervid hours
The times of wreaths and solemn nods
The dearth; some worth and serried sods.

The gathered few or many more
The muted laughs, cross creaking floors
The everyday, it pervades; this all
It’s a gamut run; Christmas to fall

We often can’t; yet sometimes will
Observe our promise to hold our wills!
Forgive our sins we fall so short
Send angels Lord for we are bought.

With blood and Love, not fully of this earth
The sun moon, stars do bow, their worth.

©Joe Maverick 13-11-2022

Mystery Wind

The raging howling of the wind,
It sweeps through the woods,
Tempestuous is this kind
It’s in chaotic moods,
It pushes through not willing to rescind.

The frailty of the woods it doesn’t mind,
It’s visiting and tearing hoods,
Leaving them bare and thinned,
Trampling down cities’ fortunes and goods,
Legend has it that it comes from the hind.

None of this has been seen by humankind,
No one has travelled its roads,
It has been a sombre weekend,
There’s a shortage of supplies and sods,
No one has yet been able to mastermind.




October 22, 2022.

Judgement Day

It was weekly Judgement Day
And the Duty God
Wondered what to do 
With all the miserable sods.
Send them to hell!!!
They’ll wallow with delight
Praising the lord 
Because they were right:
Because they created
So much hell on earth
Maybe I’ll send them
Back for rebirth
Maybe they’ll learn
It wasn’t just a rumour
That we gave mankind 
A sense of humour.@
Now let’s decides
Today’s winner
Of The Award for the most 
Amusingly Original sinner

Spring Song

Mud cracks its teeth.
Roots crunch and seep
a stored sunlight. 
There are open veins
under wet sods.

We are conveyed above the melt
on guttering rapids
through the narrows
of squelching hedgerows
toward the drumming
of new-sprouted stems.

Winter thaws in hollows,
pushes heat into slick droplets
for the sip and swallow
of greening throats.

A Warming Spring

A stored ripening sunlight,
opens veins under wet sods.

We are conveyed on the thaw,
upon the guttering soil
through the squelching narrows
of wayside hedgerows.

Spring mops and sops,
breezes furbish,
unlock a pearly dew
to melt the frosted prints
of paws and claws.

A Gardeners Revenge

Those bloody slugs have ate my spuds,
Not one leaf left in sight.
I sit all day with my gun,
They must only come out at night.

I've got a plan to catch them,
With nets and traps and snares.
Set my alarm for three AM,
And quietly creep down the stairs.

I set my plan in motion,
Traps around my vegetable plot.
Come on then you slimy sods
Show me what you've got.

Then the onslaught happened,
The gathering around my plot.
One must have caught the trip wire
A cascade of salt came tumbling down,
And killed the bloody lot.

18/9/2021

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