Best Busiest Poems
Let me tell you a story....
of a little girl who didn't want to be a Princess!!!!
it happened a long time ago, in the life of an adorable girl of seven,
who lived in the busiest humming city, enormously crowded.
a gentle dreamy-eyed girl, who chose secret corners to read,
and play with her cherished dolls' house, which her father built.
as it happened..her father found a job..and it was an idyllic countryside,
excitedly she followed family, felt fortunate to be close to nature.
a fairyland of her dreams, a picturesque hamlet surrounded by lush fields,
lived in a cottage encircled by a gorgeous garden, bird-songs, and swings.
she went to the village-school, which was a mere walking distance,
carrying her backpack, water bottle, and books she needed.
her father was the powerful manager of the local textile mill,
where most of the villagers worked, and earned their living.
all the children glanced at her as if she were a Princess,
but this soft dainty lass craved to be purely one of them.
she noticed...those children were walking barefoot to school,
no backpack, no bottle of water, no shiny expensive clothes.
end of the day, she returned home, and declared to her caring parents,
"I don't need the backpack, bottle for water, or the stylish shoes...
starting from tomorrow, I am going to walk to school barefoot"
her parents were shocked, but didn't disagree with her at all.
from the following day, the warm friendly girl of seven,
felt totally comfortable and undoubtedly right, with her decision.
all children were frolicking with her, no more was she a distant Princess,
she was their delightful friend...sharing the same life they had in the village.
she still remembers those eyes which sparkled with wonder at the way they were accepted,
a lifelong memory was created, the gesture kindled a feeling of oneness.
April 16, 2022
For N - Form Narrative - New - Poetry Contest
Theme:Life
Sponsor: Constance La France
SECOND PLACE
Isn’t it strange time waits for no man…
Yet some find ways through Him to help
them take a stand.
Such as even in the busiest part of my day…
He comes to me and tells me the words
to write and gives me a message to relay.
To show that each minute that passes is as
important as another…
And with this God given time we are to love and care for each other.
That only through Him our time unfor-
tunately comes to an end you see…
His plan is not unimportant or insign-
ificant to you and me.
So, use your time brooding over your
past or make amends…
And you may find that time hasn’t done
away with all your friends.
If your mountains should crumble
To the world's finest sand
If your oceans should run dry
And become arid land
If the weight of the world
Becomes too much to bear
May that weight become lighter
Much lighter than air
If your path should need straightened
Should you stumble and fall
I'll help lift you up
Help you walk and not crawl
If you feel all alone
In the busiest place
And the darkness of nightfall
Should cover your face
For deep in the distance
A light you shall see
You won't be alone
For that light will be me
Forever and ever
I'd do it again
I can't thank you enough
For being my friend
Sometimes it’s hard
being a poet
Writing your lines
on the busiest day
Spilling your thoughts
on the page as you know it
Even those days
you’ve got nothing to say
Words are just words
I heard somebody saying
I don’t agree
when they come in this style
Poetic words that
a poets’ displaying
Often bring tears
but they often bring smiles
There in their mind
where these ideas flourish
So many things can
come into their view
Ideas grow out of
moments to cherish
Those who might need
something wonderfully new
Wandering lines
in an unending ramble
Stirred in a pot,
spun around in a swirl
Or like an egg that
each morning you scramble
Sunnyside up for
a boy and a girl
Still we will write as
our world comes a’ crashing
Rubble and bricks
fall headfirst to the ground
Mayhem and madness
our smiles are slashing
When all is lost
and no hope can be found
Yes, sometimes it’s hard
being a poet
But in the end
it is what we must do
Taking these scenes
to a friend now to show it
Especially when I find
that friend is you
Searching For Nothing
I like holidays when nothing is celebrated.
The streets are empty and Pigeons burst from cover
as I walk down wide boulevards, eagerly searching solitude.
No buses, no commuters, no human distractions to distort
my personal oblivion. Precisely this moment is what I crave,
free to squander empty thoughts, filled with nothing.
Then it floats into my head… where should I go?
well... anywhere is the answer I’m looking for. Then I’ve arrived
at my special place, where it all makes sense.
If I choose, I can walk across the busiest intersection,
only inspiration, crosses my path. Maybe head back across the
same street, and still, only possibilities enter my mind.
Solitude is purity… those Pigeons I startled earlier,
landed anywhere they wanted,
and so did I.
07/07/10
"HAPPY hOLIDAYS"
WELL DEAR POETS .. HOLIDAYS ARE HERE ...
I WANT TO SAY THANKXXX TO ALL WHO READ AND RESPONDED
TO MY BLOG TODAY ON THE MANY PROBLEMS I AM HAVING ON
SITE ...ONE OF THEM BEING ...
I CANNOT RETURN COMMENTS TO POETS WHO READ MY WORK
AND LEAVE A SWEET CRITIQUE'...
I CAN ONLY COMMENT TO POETS WHO WIN CONTESTS AND THAT
IS ACTING FUNNY TOO .. AS ALL I GET ARE BLANK SCREENS ...
THANKXX FOR ALL YOUR GREAT IDEAS TO FIX AND SUGGESTIONS..
SINCE HOLIDAY TIME IS OUR BUSIEST WITH OUR FOOD BUSINESS
I WILL NOT BE ON PS AS OFTEN FROM NOW TILL JANUARY AS WE
RING IN 2013 ...
SO WISHING U ALL "HAPPY HOLIDAYS"... SEE YA SOON ...
LUV ..LINDA-MARIE AND RON
EDDIE, STEPHANIE, ERIC,SHELBY-MARIE,SAMANTHA-JEANNE
CHRISTOPHER, ANTHONY,
ERIC, CHRISSIE, ERIC CHRISTIAN..NEW BABY
PETS: VENUS, RAIDER, GOLDEN, THOR, THUNDER, GABRIEL, EXCALIBUR
COUSINS JOEY FROM FLORIDA AND MIKEY FROM BRONX,N.Y.
COUSINS: RAY-RAY AND GINO FROM PHILLY, PA.
BUONA FESTA AS THE ITALIANS TOAST ..WITH LUV ..
So why did I do it?
It still isn't clear.
The rooms were all taken;
The busiest this year.
And all of them dusty,
And all of them tired.
The trek to their birth-place
By Rome now required.
A census, the issue.
A right royal pain.
And doubtless the purpose
More tribute to gain.
The evening was settling,
The rush nearly o'er.
But still came a knocking
For help at my door.
The couple so tender,
The young girl with child.
The husband imploring
With eyes almost wild.
About to refuse them,
I glanced once at her.
Amazingly peaceful
And patient, demure...
"But wait, there's the stable.
Not much of a spot.
But shelter and bedding;
That's all I have got.
And liquids and lanterns
And clean swaddling fare.
Go quickly, my children,
Your baby comes there!"
(And so near my livestock
Messiah was born.
The night sky, the shepherds,
The earth-changing morn.)
https://issuu.com/deedub51/docs/bethlehem_king
Don’t know how it started, or how it ends
I’m older now then I will be then; when
I was scribing with quill, candle and scroll
A mind of dubiety, road full of holes
A wanderlust dream, of apples true taste
A destined arrival, from earth to space
Learning my place around the bend
My limbs sinking in the chair akin
To the rustic oak desk, branded by toil
My hands numbing, gears lacking oil
Watching raindrops kiss the window
A top hatted, hunched mans figure descends
He says with a grin, I’ll show you how
To properly command your pen
I pinch myself over and over again
Thinking I’ll wake next moments blink
I said sir, let me sip that ink you drink
Dine from the flowery plate you ascend
With glib he said, the drink is to think
Outside of a realm we transcend
The ink is verve that the heart kindly lends
To our inspired souls speaking
To minds boundless pen
I blink and he vanished
A note left to me holds words I brandish
“Calm eagles yield more then the busiest wren.”
Ants, busiest insects in the world
Never tease them or mess with them
The more they like you, the more they'll bite you
Strange, never go extinct
There was no wind, even no breathing airflow
Ginkgo leaves were falling off onto the meadow
These could be the best meetings of green and yellow
The sky and the earth, and the spring and the autumn
From the warmest death to some of the busiest grow
I now can hear all the sounds by sudden
Including my breathing and my heart jumping
And can feel all the steaming, as examples
The aureus color and my dropping tears
I reckon this must be the right moment for saying
Some Silent Goodbyes to each other
When you open eyes
you have seen
the wonderful world
as one consistent and condensed projection of reality
with your dear friends, family, relatives,
with country
where you grown on, studied and matured,
with beautiful mountains and blue lakes and sky.
And now close your eyes and relaxed
and let you mind absorbed with subconscience -
what you have seen through closed eyes?
Look carefully for the screen or yours curtailed eyeslids and through them.
Suddenly you feel as staying on the busiest crossroads
of the dazzling different realm,
with the closed eyes,
perceiving the dimensions of highest speeds, transformations and great potencies
and you instantly flashed with the truth,
that all our world
only small fraction of the great numbers of other intentions
what have seen on great distance of your eyelids screen
as the fragments of others world, stars, galactic
of this densely packed multiplying realities.
that ready looming into your life
and completely change them.
Yes, the great thoughts
revealed sometimes through a dance of universe
and music of Bach and Beethoven full with this staff excessively,
but if you able to keep only small thoughts
better stationed where you lived
without any obsession.
The concert Band
A work of reeds, air, and hands
Reading sheet music isn’t easy
And our uniforms are anti-sleazy
All instruments must be in tune and time
Otherwise we sound like a broken chime
The flutes sound sweet and dainty – like a fairy
A piccolo can go so high it’s scary
Our key of music is set in the key of C
When we are in tune we sound so pretty
Clarinets are reeded
When they squeak, earplugs are needed.
They play way too soft; you must strain to hear
And you have to be quite nearfor that my dear
Saxophones are loud, reeded, and sqeaky
Sometimes they can be quite spit leaky
Those sweaty neckstraps are almost like ties
You could wear it with a suit and look like one of those classy rich guys
Trumpets range in color - silver or gold
Their sound is quite bold
They have valves of three
And all the fingerings are quite easy
French Horns are very hard to play
Tis hard to get the note you want to stay
You have to put your hand in the bell
The smell is totally not swell
Then the oboe and the bassoon.
Oboe sound high and sqeaky, and the bassoon sounds like a loon
Both reeds are double and small
And they arent quiet at all
Percussion is the busiest part to every band
They dont use air or reed; they use thier hands
They keep the tempo for the most part of the time
All of the precussion instruments cost one thousand times a dime
Trombones are made of brass and a slide
If they're loud, your hearing is fried
Stand to close, you'll get hit
Ive heasrd that hurts quite a bit
Without the conductor. we wouldn't be a band
They can change tempo with a flick of a hand
They control everything; we bow to your wow
They tell us where to end and when to play now
Makes Me Nervous
The busiest highway runs
as usual but alongside it
pin drop silence of death
spreads feathers at Chicken-stalls
makes me nervous.
The caged roosters were
fasting , praying silently
No chatting, no matting,
No smile , no excuse
Makes me nervous.
Not welcome traffic brakes
Stops breaths for once
It will be claim life one of them
No friendship, no break up
Makes me nervous.
The cage which was full of
Lives at the daybreak
Regret it was empty at the dusk.
No right to fight for life or love
Makes me nervous.
The poor creature stare
Every new stops helplessly
To sacrifice his life for taste.
No complain , no desire
Makes me nervous.
Syrupy with recipe ran along brasseries
Peiping, Mags and Oasis pricey rotisseries
Sizzling sizzlers the Peter Cat’s clamor
Addled couples fending their pockets out of scarce.
Boogie with deejays rhythm along discos
Tantra, Fusion and Roxy surfaced floorshows
Mass hangout the Some Place Else’s beckon
Mini-fashioned getups makes the other to pay on.
Volumes with fictions traded along bargains
Oxford and Metropolitan are mostly visited
Cohort no bar wide-ranged music stocked at Music World
Passerby’s daily dos’ makes the guard better-known.
Xaverians with hip-hops confined along principles
St. Mary, AG and St. Augustine are teenagers realm
Scandals and hearsays are their daily boasts
Highly noetic minds makes them their daily booze.
Hotfooted with attachés bucked along clock at nine
Pushed subway, the most busiest at times
Hi-fi managers and Board meetings at The Park
Foreigners often ease themselves at the Flurry’s cake bar.
The Busiest swallows and adamant cranes
settled at last
Alluring starlings in murmuration
caught my gaze
Roosting of these birds proclaimed
a marvelous wonder
A beautiful young girl wore
the fluffy gown
and the corners were stitched
with a golden lace
Golden Angel was ready for the photoshoot
against a purple BG
The clear blue sky camouflaged
with sparse hues
Light orange color adorned
the passing clouds
And the mesmerizing purple color
intimated the SUNSET