Best Hassled Poems
We loved the lollipops, cracker jacks, and Holloway candy sticks. We adored the chocolate-coated ice cream bars and the tootsie rolls.
We could not get enough of pop sickles, cool aids, and soda pops.
We sang a love song saying, “Ice cream, soda water, cream on top, tell me the name of your sweetheart”. We had the best-tasting cookies and cigarette candies that eyes had ever seen. We were just poor kids in America’s poorest state, but no kids were sweeter than us. Hot as fire, hassled and harassed by humidity and drops of sweat; but we were sweet, not from
our good-natured personalities but from the sweets that we ate.
Life was hard in my little Mississippi Delta town; But somewhere between hard work and chores; between feeding the chickens and the cows; between feeding the goats and the hogs; between watching TV and doing homework;
between the sun ups and the Sundowns; and between the dawn and the dust;
Yes, in between, we found time to play. Most times we were okay, didn’t go astray, and had lots of fun in the barns, playing in the hay.
We rolled rubber tires like we were driving fast cars; laughed out loud as we sucked whining balls. Money was always lacking, but we did our share of licking, chewing, and sucking the sweet stuff. We bought a lot for the few pennies, nickels, and dimes that we had. We could buy our treats cheaply back then. So, we did our best to stay sweet, chewing bubble gum filled with sugar. We didn’t have a care and learned how to share, and the sweet stuff was always there. 013008PSContest, Childlike Fun, Caren Krutsinger, 2P
Categories:
hassled, beauty, candy, child, kid,
Form:
Prose
Back in those heavy times when everything was so far out
Our words were but a whisper, the mans were but a shout
Flower power was spreading, and everything was out of sight
Preaching peace through out the days, and gettin our groove on into the night
But we were always gettin hassled, by the fuzz, the man, the pigs
They didn't want us smokin doobies, and flashin peace signs, can ya dig?
Then peace and love had flourished, we needed to get funky and do our thing
We needed a place to get our groove on, so the discos were the scene
The threads we wore back then were styling, some were off the hook!
It's hard to believe with the slim bread we made, we could carry that funky look?
Bellbottoms, platform shoes, and jump suits people were a cravin
Boogieing away the nights in the discos, where the lights were just a blazin
Then the foxy chicks started getting pregoed, and the discos no longer Dyno-mite!
Men needed to start makin more bread, and trying to live the family life
But gigs weren't easy to find, and life became somewhat of a drag
Some of the dudes skipped town, leaving the foxy mamas holding the bag
Well thats the skinny of the seventies, the lowdown of peoples ways
So keep on truckin all you cool cats and foxy mamas
And remember all those ~Freaky, ~Far Out, ~Out Of Sight days
Dan Kearley:1-21-12
Categories:
hassled, funny, love, music, nostalgia,
Form:
Rhyme
If bees have knees
They must be quite tiny
What about elbows
Or a cute tiny heinie?
And what about thighs
That end at the knees?
Do they ever wear shorts?
Are they hassled by fleas?
Now how about hair
Is it long and flowing?
Do they wear tiny parkas
When winter wind's blowing?
When one tells a joke
Do the other ones giggle?
Can they write with a pen
Does it look like a squiggle?
Do you know what scares 'em?
Do they have any fears?
When a bee friend dies
Do they cry honey tears?
© Jack Ellison 2012
Categories:
hassled, childhood, fantasy, children, ,
Form:
Quatrain
Then comes the call of the witch named Kabbath,
That signals the start of All Hollow's Black Sabbath.
And, from the dark crypts and the blackest of holes;
Come the night creatures, as the Midnight Bell Tolls
Come Goblins and ghoulies, black creatures all hassled.
Come the fiends of the night that haunt the High Castle.
To the cemetery fields where the undead lay waiting
For the black orgy to begin their unholy mating.
Witches, black sorcerers, and warlocks all
Dance to the wind at this black magic ball.
Their music the cry of ten million lost souls;
All hither they come as the Midnight Bell Tolls.
All gathered at last, at this darkest of hours.
To wait for the sign of Satan's great power.
That'll send them in search all over the world,
To capture the souls of ye boys and ye girls.
So, let this be a warning this Halloween night
And pay heed to thy parents, they know what is right.
Though you search for sweet treats, wherever you stroll.
Be safe in your beds, when the Midnight Bell Tolls.
Categories:
hassled, halloween, october, scary, surreal,
Form:
Rhyme
How frantic my antics when I'm in a panic-
my thoughts alone could sink the Titanic!
Hassled, frazzled- razz-madazzled
when I feel so well and Manic!
Taken for granted, a Life enchanted,
and gifts of Art, by God implanted.
Confuses the Muses with makeshift excuses-
my trembling Mind, thus reprimanded!
For sloth, for laze, for lost ambition;
for languid lax, these poor conditions!
I feel punctured at this juncture-
Overwhelmed by such attrition...
Discerning my yearning, but also learning
that life affords but one audition.
Categories:
hassled, art, god, life,
Form:
Sonnet
SPRING IN AIR, LOVE ONLINE 20/02/13
Nowadays , life is so unpalatable and stoic.
So unnecessarily busy and eventfully hectic.
Young folks thus gather in a shadowy discotheque, to kill,
The retreating winter shedding its last chill.
The chirps of the departing migratory,
With massacred green in a concrete urban factory,
Welcomes the spring breeze, and the cuckoo melody tune,
That too so rare,
For a short term vacation, in a vanity fair.
Some emotional fools and roaming vagabond,
Can feel the spring air and reminiscences their fond,
And cry for the past and the long lost love bonds.
Beside them no one dares to mingle,
Their soul with the colour of butterfly twinkle.
No one cares to see the young green boughs,
Dancing in a frolic of crispy air that jingle.
All is there, in the air, except love my dear,
‘Cause love is now confined,
In another little world so secure.
Where there’s no hasty rushing,
No meaningless blushing,
No hassled waiting, no worrying restriction.
Love is just a ready-made parcel,
At a press of a small button.
Love messages, e mails , tweets, face books ,web cyberspace and profile update,
Takes all the bothering responsibility, does all the necessary tete-a-tete.
No need for time taking arguments,
No need for extra commitments.
Sometimes, meetings could be arranged, but
Oh! Never in public park or in a hopeless garden.
It could be in a shopping mall or a cool coffee den.
The gorgeous and the grotty,
All gather at a V-day party.
Those who are privileged,
Share their love with diamonds and wine.
But for others, not a single grape,
Is sour in a vine.
Everything is taken for granted,
Just simple and fine.
‘Cause love can also be shared,
Simply free of cost on line.
Categories:
hassled, computer-internet, humorous, love, people,
Form:
Light Verse
Add #8
'Kimmy's Bliss?' Find yours too (on the yellow brick road)!
'Courage' leads to adventure, 'Brain' lightens your load!
But real 'Heart' is the answer we're all looking for,
She's a 'Wizard of Ah's,' (1) you will come to adore!
Add #9
Most reviewers just rave, and complaints, hardly there,
Personality plus makes it hard to compare,
She's not in it for tips; so your smile's her reward,
"Kimmy's Bliss" is one place where it's hard to be bored.
Add #10
'Kimmy's Bliss' "Boss" is Brian, HEAD poet-at-large,
But the NECK's truly Kimmy; he should call her 'Sarge!'
Though he 'gives her the business,' still her's is the art,
He just dreams that his poems will play a small part!
Add #11
You're name's "Miss Apprehension,' and these days who's not?
Life on Mars might be better, but no astronaut,
Put your worries aside, 'Kimmy's Bliss' give the keys,
And you'll find that 'hair problems' will all bend their knees!
Add #12
'Clementine' (2) (we hear) wore 'herring boxes' as shoes,
Could it be, hair expense was the cause of her blues?
Ruby lips, bouncing curls, kept the boys looking up,
'Kimmy's Bliss,' decent shoes, might have saved, buttercup!
Add #13
Now if you're one who's hassled by "little blue man,"
Count on 'Kimmy's Bliss' poet to do what he can,
Write a godawful poem for daunting effect,
Should a very tall building (3) and you not connect!
Add #14
Is the Easter Egg Bunny the one you pray to,
When you're planning dream date, need a smashing hairdo?
Easter Egg 'Kimmy's Bliss' hides is sheer hair delight,
Please don't blame her if you get to party all night!
Brian Johnston
August 25, 2017
Poet's Notes:
My goodness, writing these poetic little four line advertisements is fun! See 'Kimmy's Bliss 1' for the first seven adds!
(1) A reference to the famous movie 'The Wizard of Oz.'
(2) A reference to a famous American folk song 'Oh My Darling Clementine!'
(3) A reference to a goofy pop song from the 60's. 'Kimmy's Bliss' always recommends non-violent solutions!
Categories:
hassled, encouraging, humor, love,
Form:
Quatrain
Scorching heat hassled my feet,
as I ambled alongside the beast.
A wooden cup, a water bag and
parched barley meal for a feast.
My shadow exhaled hot fumes
on the dry desert sand.
Days of prolonged journey,
In search of a famous land.
Mounted on the highest
was a man wearing a lowly thawb
With evident fourteen patches,
devoid of a pristine robe.
He ruled the continents
With power and dignity.
He owned a little
Enough to satisfy the brevity.
We took turns to sit on the camel,
to relieve ourselves of the toil.
One could rest and another hold reins,
to guide the beast towards the soil.
He beckoned me to stop
And climb on top.
Holding the reins
of the camel’s clop.
Approaching the purpose
I implored the master.
I did not deem right
for him to ignore his lustre.
“The dignitaries are awaiting the ruler
to command them and direct.
A meagre slave on the summit
Will not give you respect.”
He roared and his eyes crimson
He told me a reality
So easily forgotten
“We were humiliated in entirety
And Islam gave us honour
Shall we then choose this world
And push Allah in the corner.”
When his feet get muddled,
in a blameless puddle.
It stumped me more
and enhanced my lore.
It proved my descent
and that of my ruler
We are made with clay
and will return to it sooner.
A sight to behold awaited some,
as we marched into the city.
Never in history, had they seen
A king holding the rope with simplicity.
A slave riding the camel
Made most men bewildered
Tears flowed down relentlessly,
As the equality in Islam was remembered.
The man with fourteen patches,
raised the banner of Islam
Centuries later we still remember,
his humility and vigorous eemaan.
When the difference between
The ruler and the slave.
Was rendered null by the
faithful and brave.
(Thawb – Long shirt
Eemaan – Belief
Allah - God
Islam – Submission to the will of Allah)
Categories:
hassled, caregivingme, allah, me,
Form:
Rhyme
I don’t want to do anything today,
Don’t want to even try.
Just want to sit and do nothing
And watch the world go by.
Don’t want to be hassled or pestered,
Or questioned the reason why.
Just want to be still and quiet,
And watch the world go by.
Don’t want to be thinking and planning,
To be aiming low or high.
Just want to be lazy but content
And watch the world go by.
Tomorrow I’ll be back to normal,
The hands of the clock will fly....
But today just want to be left alone,
To watch the world go by.
Categories:
hassled, how i feel,
Form:
Rhyme
at the mission in the Bowery
when the addict comes in at night
they are ushered through electronic doors that
slam shut like a prison
echoing down the hall &
with few people on staff
they make their rounds in the greater part of the shelter
with walkie-talkies hooked to them
but no weapons or defense tools of any kind
which might allow for those spending their evenings
cleaning the laundry of the homeless &
taking care to the best of their ability
of those that the rest of society has left to die
in the garbage bin that is the piss ridden street---
in the emergency room
where those that walk straight off the street are allowed to
keep shelter,
but only shelter,
they need not even give their names &
they are not hassled by the help---
they remain huddled together
nodding off in a stupor
with the staff checking on this specific room
every 15 minutes
with the hope that no one has drifted off to an overdose---
those with the walkies also have a needle on them at all times
which contains a good dose of adrenaline &
after gratuitous exercises upon being hired,
of shoving the needle into a ripe orange
over & over
(as if this is supposed to prepare you for shoving it in a human being
who has just overdosed),
they are told to be on the ready
for such a moment to arise
when they will need to use it---
upon entering the emergency room,
those who have come in off the streets often,
having no respect for those with jobs & lives that
they can no longer even imagine, or perhaps from a greater disdain for
society as a whole,
they often ridicule the help,
cursing at them,
maybe not even conscious that they are doing so &
it is all in a night’s work to ignore or tolerate these insults
to the best of one’s ability
in hope that they are not struck or physically attacked
because an adrenaline needle & a walkie-talkie
isn’t going to stop someone who has nothing left in the world but
rage.
Categories:
hassled, life, hope,
Form:
Free verse
I Plead
Calling from inside you
I could only reach as far as your deaf ears
you,a mother,turned to stone,
who else would comfort me ,come hither|| ||
Scores of dreams in my expectant eyes
all to fill your lap with joy
Can’t wait a moment more to see the world
mother,let me go out and play|| ||
Divine,it would be,oh mother
to walk with you ,hand in hand
Oh how glad,you shall be to see me realize your dreams
as if with a magic wand || ||
From a dainty bud to my brightest bloom
I shall grow one day
but how cruel you are mother
to plan to have me brushed away||
How unjust it is of you
to contemplate leaving me in mortal pain
Hassled you are of the thought
your womb nurtures a fellow woman|| ||
Burdensome I will be
was all your mind could conjure
So gutted you were to imagine
my premature marital pyre|| ||
Call you mother ,see the world
was it so much to ask for
you take all the blame
God knows it,rest assure || ||
His court will question you
yes ,that day will come
what will your reply be mother
for the sin that you have done|| ||
A girl child I was
made your womb my home
Motherhood,I gave you
a mother,you could never become|| ||
Categories:
hassled, baby, emotions, gender, mother
Form:
Rhyme
When you get to, to the place that
I must leave you, when you get to th' station
When you look back, will it matter?
If I treated you badly would you forgive me?
Broken down, I'll be sorry at the station
Sister's relief, a brother's regret, at the station
There were details, misunderstandings
Hammers and nails, and bad relations
You remember, like the ocean don’t
As true love forgets, like I don’t remember
Give as good as you get at the station
Sister's relief, a brother's regret, bad relations
I‘m sliding now, into tomorrow
Wi' nothing left t‘ steal or t' borrow
You just went on, hassled n' hustled
Th' devil took you home, now not so troubled
Broken down I am sorry, at the station
Sister's relief, a brothers regret, bad relations
Categories:
hassled, bereavement, death, farewell, grief,
Form:
Rhyme
Uncertainty, 'grand potentate',
swathes my lure
For renewed insight. I dropp
upon
My groove, primed, to settle my
lot. Help!
Modest citizen. Our battles,
girthed
For selfish intent, lunges at your
faceless sense.
We have rasped our own
reasons from
Bullets impassive, gratifying bills
Upon your waters of slackness
tethered slow
He, skirmished hearer to define
this
Wit-flourished folly, clasps
sweaty palms,
Murmurs chrysalis of half-
hearted wishes:
I slack to lack, vision spires for
tatty hope
Tosses my insight upon starved
ambiance. Help!
No thrill, no ornate flight for
thought,
Just one 'grand potentate' nods
frugal,
Spreads fancy upon polished
strips
We saw you lose route upon
hundreds and
Tin and columbite- we glimpsed
sprouts
Of your self-righteous mutiny
kindled
By flat angst.
We falter at your gates of
defiance.
Fifty-two fetid years, freshly dour
for me,
Turns my flesh to scales. Forgive,
'grand potentate'
To fling at me abundant pellets,
lost or left.
Of grisly death I sniff, brash and
fierce
Fifty-two fetid years flame my
scales
We must fling pellets, but now,
your allies
Must bolt their greed against
your waters, hassled
And strew you nether with
backward tides
A resurrected applause in steep
praise. His cabinet
Indulges my lassitude to forbear
further
Moans and tears
Fifty-two flaming years, will me
not, sheer contortion
Only one stirred heart to fight
along many
Categories:
hassled, angst, me,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Young like April, winds
Settling in the limbs of oaks,
Just past the crisp whisper
Cerulean drifting, tides
Graceful seas reminding me to
Listen as secrets poured
Past the graceful, splashing on sands
Lingering in the stillness, quietly
Praising in sprays of reassurance,
Silhouettes dancing…
Preventing me from smiling
The unsympathetic waves – cold
Like winter, plaguing my
Thoughts, splattering my ankles
With desperate mysteries,
Arising from the foamy feelings,
Rushing across the beach – surging
Like history, in the silence
Freeing my heart to breathe in
Darkness that succumbed to the
Colorless flow of melancholic
Currents, bleeding detached doubts
Emotionless memories – color me
Blind by the hues of indignant
Dreams, blurred over April’s
Toes as she tiptoes across the beach
During a spring thaw,
When everything – everywhere
Is icelike, frosty – flurries
Kissing away the joy of arriving
At the beach before the hassled
Vacationers begin to descend
On the Atlantic, where I found the
Chill to bring me a sense of peace
Like the warming of the sands
Never had in the past, on shores
Like a prayer, ascending
To be heard by the blesser
The miracle worker, the One
Who created wind and sea,
And everything that remembers
All the spring breaks – living
Inside of me, memorized
By my senses, the pictures
Never taken, but not forsaken
By my recollection of shared
History, the quiet – stardust moments
When light faded into a promise,
And the seas taught me to believe
Even the coldest water….
can feed my dreams!
SIMPLY POETRY 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless
April 6, 2023
Categories:
hassled, beach, beautiful, blessing, sea,
Form:
Free verse
You Had No Reason To Pull Me Over
By Elton Camp
It gave poor Fred quite a fright
A siren and a flashing blue light
He was certain he wasn’t speeding
And that other laws he was heeding
He was only trying to get to work
Now to be hassled by that jerk
Fred buzzed the window down
As the swaggering cop came around
“What is this? I wasn’t doing a thing.”
To the cop’s lips, a sneer did spring
“Pal, that’s exactly what they all say.
That I shouldn’t be doing ‘em this way.”
“Your brother, a senator well may be
But that doesn’t mean a thing to me.”
“And I know my salary comes from you.
I’ve already heard that one plenty, too.”
“Your were driving with a phone to your ear.
To road’s center and edge you came near.”
“A cheeseburger is clutched in your right hand.
Between your knees, a drink cup does stand.”
“In your left hand you are holding a French fry.
To control your vehicle it is impossible to try.”
Your seat belt and shoulder strap hang loose
For these safety violations, there is no excuse
“I’ll list all the charges you will face
When the judge will hear your case.”
Categories:
hassled, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme