Best Hubs Poems
I’m in such a state of confusion,
I don’t understand what I’m doing
I know your there
And I know you care
But I can’t see you
I can’t hear you
I just don’t know what to do
I know your there in the stillness,
Waiting to heal this illness
There is a deep hole
A sickness in my soul,
Disease in the depths of my heart
But How to fix it
I wouldn't know where to start
How it came to be
Is a deep mystery to me
I know that I am broken
We all are in some way
But rarely are these things spoken
Rarely do I have the courage to say
The secrets kept within
The depths of my sin
But if I hide it how can it be healed
How can the healer heal?
If I keep my heart sealed
What if I let down my shield?
Will I be attacked or disgraced
Or will I be embraced
I’m too scared to find out
To be found out
So I hide my face
I only let people see part of me
I only let people get so close
I don’t want them to see
I don’t want them to know
And so I end up alone
I’ve been to the bar, the clubs,
All the social hubs
But no one cares about my hurts
Life’s all about chasing skirts,
Fancy cars and nice shirts
Or is there something beyond drunken nights, and flashing lights
Is there something really worth living for, an open door to something more?
An invitation to a new destination
A path to peace, a sweet release
A new life to claim, an escape from the shame
I believe there is, some days I forget
But my life isn’t over yet
Tomorrow is a new day
I can live life your way
With love and peace
With guilt and shame released
With a new heart
And a new start
A reason to live
And something to give
To this broken earth
Of invaluable worth
At my very core
I know I was born for more
Than to live and to die
Without knowing why
I don’t have it all figured out
But I know without a doubt
That the world needs love
And that love comes from above
Because human love is not enough
That is why there is a deep hole
And a sickness in my soul
But to me has been revealed
The way to be healed
Now I have a mission
A reason for existence
To bring healing to the earth
To the unloved, the broken, the rejected
And tell them what they are worth
So that Jesus’ love will be reflected
And this love will give birth
To many people being resurrected,
Redirected and completely accepted
To a wonderful and glorious rebirth
In little towns the big events are locally presented,
and every family in the town is usually represented.
Shopkeepers shut their doors when a pioneer curls his toes,
and if someone’s up to mischief, then everybody knows.
Every sporting club is well supported, right down to the wire,
they are the social hubs of towns to set the youth on fire,
through footy clubs and netball clubs combining into one
to sing and dance the night away, promoting local fun.
Of course when youth is mixed with party love can fill the air,
so Cupid’s firing arrows through the hearts of those who care.
This sometimes leads to earnestness when love gets in the way;
the town is now preparing for there’ll be a wedding day.
There’s heaps of preparation from the family of the bride;
flower girls and pretty maids to stand right by her side.
There’s the minister and invitations; the caterers are right.
All the groom must think about - “Are you coming to the bucks night?”
It’s half past five and dawn is breaking; we’re coming back to town.
God knows who is driving but their foot is going down.
There’s nugget, sauce and butter, smeared over everything;
the bucks party is over now - it’s ten hours ‘til the wedding.
And now coming up behind us is a mass of flashing light,
when a siren started blaring; we thought it better to take flight.
We shot around some back streets trying to lose this cop,
then someone with a drunken slur, said “I think we better stop.”
Popularity is not the word that I would say is spoken next.
This angry cop took any plea completely out of context.
He wouldn’t listen to a word that’s said, repeating “That’s enough!”
before I heard the second click of a closing set of handcuffs.”
In a cell back at the station there’s a pall of doom and gloom.
And there’s a hint of panic when it’s mentioned in the room,
by the cop who indicated strongly that by giving him some flack,
we’re gunna stay locked up until his Sergeant arrives back.
I made every kind of plea I could, but this cop avoids my dreading.
He said “Young lad you’re lucky; my Sergeants at his daughters wedding,
so he’ll be in a good mood when he greets you in this room.”
“Don’t bloody count on it” I said - “Because I’m the flamin’ groom!”
The extraterrestrial guest and sovereign of blue bloods
and son of the most reverent ancient tribe and octopus’s cousin
you have been setting on emperor’s throne
from early Silur
in yours great ocean capital Ur
since 400 million years ago,
presenting for future
the jet propulsion engine,
you have been the perfect creature
primarily
and marvel of universe
with you timeless shape and rockets like semblance.
You are the worthiest successor
of the dying mankind,
this trick of nature and instant caprice.
Among the human and humanoids
extraterrestrial
who might doubt really
for your right and legitimacy
to the eternal ruling
yours majesty of cephalopods
and blue exelences?
You survived through all calamities and crisis
outlived by Erath in its long history
even falling to planet the greatest asteroids,
hiding himself on the bottom of ocean.
Even in case of the worthiest scenario
If our Globe would have been captured by Black Hole,
the Squid, your majesty, know how climb out
from that gravitational barrel
tossing up his long stretching tentacles
with powerful suckers and pointed teeth at the ends
he know as catch the seismic hubs and anchored them.
So you will able encountered and inhabited
step by step
on his supersensitive and sharp legs
did picturesque by Salvador Dali,
the whole universe.
In her structures and secrets you understand much more
then all our futurists and scientists combed together.
And Mankind from the ancient centures
has suspected in dreams and nightmares
this creatures
as his own most advanced competitor and successor
who will rise for the ruling by Earth once
on the base his truly right,
the coolest quality of his blue blood,
on the priority of birth, immeasurable history
and testifying by heck a long times.
Once I had a bicycle,
A loving present from my grandfather;
Since I was his favorite granddaughter,
He granted my wish at a snap of my finger .
Since he was so old,
A new bicycle he could hardly afford;
He took his bike when he was young,
Which I found it once at the back of our barn.
As far as I remember,
It was really so old and rugged;
But my grandpa was like Mr. Mac-Gyber,
Amazingly fixing all things all-over.
My granda was a well-known painter,
I thought he will repaint and use sandpapers;
When I surreptitiously sneaked into his hut,
He was there recycling all my milk cans.
When everything was done,
He gladly gave it to me with a big hug;
I hurriedly drove it at once,
Down the street and field with so much fun.
“My bike was real a unique one!” I thought.
So different from others in our neighborhood,
Its wailing siren was made up of a cow’s horn,
Tubes were made of dried bamboos and corn.
Other parts were still the same,
Like forks, hubs and chainwheel set,
The rest were made up of my milk cans,
They were pedal, brake and seatgear stem.
Handle bars were what I liked most,
Converted from the handle of his old plow;
So sturdy and so strong all I knew,
And I can drive it so long in full control.
However, when I travelled quite afar,
Parts were falling one at a time;
Until everything suddenly split apart,
Eventually it dropped and rolled me down.
©2012Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
Date: Aug. 3, 2012
4th Place Winner (My Very First Winning Poem)
Contest: Any Poem of the Week Contest
Contest Judged: 8/4/12
Poet Sponsor: Secret
It was a chilly morning in paradise...
Autumn was already here...
A time for strange things to happen, as it is that time of year...
She was up most of the night, doing a write....
Regarding some hubs and her series titled "Legend of Fred "
Ahh the questions she had... rolling around in her head..
Were “where were her readers, her followers “ her Hubbers...?
They had all seemed to like what she wrote in the past..
But lately her hubs were falling so fast....
She had written articles on health and life..
perhaps she had targeted too much strife...
Maybe they wanted to read about food..
But when you're not a cook, that would be kinda rude..
Oh, will wonders never cease ?
So she decided she'd get some zzzzz's
She lay in her bed, not moving at all...
but breathing quite deeply, as I saw the covers fall...
So I stretched my muscles and walked ever so slow..
So as not to wake her , then I spied her big toe..
Sticking out from the blanket..it was such a temptation..
And with me having such a" foot fixation".. however...
She needed the rest , so she can finish her quest..
I have some thoughts of my own...
that I would like to share in a poem..
And I would be happy to help her.. but..
I don’t think the world is ready for me...
as I am a BLOGGING CAT.. you see
So I will close for now...everyone have a great week...as
I'm off to seek something that has a tweak and a squeak..
I'd wanted a boob job for years
Loud moaning was all my hub's hears
Neath the tree there's a voucher
Soon I won't be a sloucher
Hubs thoughtfulness brought me to tears
His present was such a fab gift
Boob implants and a full face lift
Now blokes ogle and stare
You should see hubby glare
This present has now caused a rift
Next year on our pine Christmas tree
A voucher for more surgery
With huge boobs I was cursed
I'll have the op reversed
Not all gifts will make you happy
FICTION POEM FOR CHRISTMAS LIMERICK CONTEST
Sponsored by Alexis Y
12/04/20
Nature's tit- bits!
Gentle droplets of rain
on the colocasia leaves
slide like glossy silver grain
wish these pearls my palm receives
and I weave them into a chain!
A black-pepper vine
climbs round the coconut palm
saying 'am yours and you mine
wish this obsession to my heart embalm!
and me in my love -life assign!
In the moist soil take shelter
black ants and the root-grubs
safe beneath the damp leaf litter
My heart seeks refuge in such secure hubs
and wish my life with deep trust glitter!
A squirrel burries the nuts in soil
leaves there to sprout as it forgets
Trees do come up as bad weather foil
wish I plant in my life such goodness
and let sweetness in others' life uncoil !
© Anulaxmi Nayak,2015
Core or hubs…
Change the chains related our mental health.
Free our slaves of silks and all untied.
China ill reputes may take a bath to wash.
Baths as French are beauty ways.
French has right and left and gather wings may think and talk and take their French politic steps reset or set together some.
Share the same or something rotten tastes exclusive all are china tyrants both with china jesters.
Ways with frills will need decors as china leaders charm offense or nasty nice with soft despotic.
Moral hazards all are china politic games with jungle laws.
Global games are china evil ways as cores or hubs.
Hardly seen are global worlds with evil hazes.
China landscapes all have lunatic fringes with china conquerors. Tibet DALAI LAMA must be sad. China lunatic fringes may ride and sail.
Tibet DALAI LAMA leave and flee are political groups abused by China tyrants ordered armies that called china P.L.A.
Helms as china Maoism teams with terms and names by doing crazy silly things in mania ways that made.
Cores and hubs are ways of fierce beasts but human self asserted and self esteems as all from starts to en. Will fixations also minds so complexes just are china commie till the old to new.
Self for means and cover all and attempt so much that all are acting cores or hubs of china commies those is such.
-------------Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3-------------
.
I seem to have forgotten
the purpose of civilization
we are to animals
as animals are to a basket of forks
C.J. Jung as the UFO pilot
in "Freud Attacks" a talkie
a flaming romp through the hubs of hell
hI kids it’s time for potty training
let's rent a car and take refuge
on the runaway truck ramp
I reached for the emergency brake
got a box of cigars instead
one of the 7 Psychological Wonders
the six others are too hideous to mention
I think we'll need subtitles for this movie
10,000 years of metaphysical illumination
and it's still all work and no play
Where might we find the Way of Fun
although when the black and white keys
all sound at once it still makes me wonder
like tearing your clothes off
at a funeral and jumping on the casket
screaming I've always been ready
OK that's death wish Wonder number 2
apparently life is not a symbol for something else
sponge my brow nurse this is delicate
but is it a subset of something else
as a catalyst to sensation
that's the appetite monster Wonder 3
mom made voodoo dolls from my ****
art is the candle in the skull
I have the power of death she moaned
where language is used to annihilate language
using words as an accusing narcotic
in the holy 4th Wonder of guilt for all things
a lot of ifs in there searching for what's next
tinfoil helmets will be issued
for the car bomb inferno
of the internal saboteur Wonder 5
next a blank diploma emeritus
from the Wewelsburg Engram University
a knife in the Oedipal eye Wonder 6
needless to say the Clinic of Doom
quickly ran out of volunteers
needless to say my chromosomes
cringe under their bed
awaiting a wonderful martyrdom
how did we become radio transparent
and make bargains with man-beasts
I guess a person is as smart
as they want to be
rather than as they need to be
the aid of uncopied ideas never hurts
the act of abstraction is child's play
I feel it my duty to tell you
you can do it in your sleep
but yesterday is gone for good
mourning and loss leave behind
a bed of fragments from Wonder 7
a person incapable of introspection
is a total failure as a human
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
A Bluemoon -RARE PHENOMENON
Some spoken words can not be heard by this world
Nor even the silence is able to create wonder on this earth
Sleeping in the beauty of thoughts,
thinking that to make them popular soughts
But when it comes to reality,
they are the only one which make you feel crushed
So always be in silence ,
be in creeping hubs,
That nobody will be able to hear them
AND
Make your thoughts ABSURD
When we walk on the streets we love to spit or throw stubs.
Children walked with bare foot and takes germs to home,
We need to control spreading disease that is motive hubs.
Few things are common it's not right to spread rubbish,
To gain rubbish, to protect rights or to fight for nothing,
We never care for environment and love for breathe fresh.
Neighbour fights for rubbish and hate to clean front of street,
Live in jealousy, finds opportunity for degrading each other,
minor dispute they failed to solve, education is their defeat.
They fight for growing tree branches or a place for parking,
They 're kind supporter, love to throw rubbish in the garden,
Loud music they play for nonsense to prove they are king.
Sometimes genius people loose courage and live in stress.
The entire life they fight against the system to defeat a neighbour,
Then blames politics to stop cost a vote, is democracy mess?
Their nature changes their behaviour they dispute for little gain,
The entire life they struggle for peace and never sleep for a night,
They live in dreams and failed to find a solution of their sustain.
What's a problem to live on earth whom do we need to detain?
My nympho neighbour’s Sugar Cookie
She’s well known for her love of nookie,
Now she’s up the duff
Her hubs in a huff
And spends all his time with the bookie
For my on line friend 'Sugar Cookie' who is expecting her baby in January
09/14/20
The holy and sacred river of India,
Starts its coarse and lumpy journey from the all mighty and staunchest Himalayas.
Its creation and origin from the head of Lord Shiva,
Has interested an impressive story in the mythology of India.
The tinkling and murmuring sounds of the bells and chimes,
The blest chantings of God increasing its amplitude at night time,
And the gushing of the water makes it more and more sublime.
The place of Bhakti where cows are mothers and worshipped,
A dip into the cold and exhilarating water washes away all the sins.
Praised by all the Puranas, Granthas and Vedas,
She serves as the cradle of fertile lands and aquatic habitat.
One drop of this divine body is thought of quenching a man's thirst of good health and peace.
The evenings being mesmerized by tintinnabulating and ringing tones of the Ganga Aarti,
At the other places and times, it sways and flows with at its top its vanity.
Kedarnath, Devaprayag, Haridwar and Varanasi,
Earning its fame and getting embraced by the Mother's purity and sacred beauty,
Like a mother keeping her children close to her bosom, protecting and providing security from undesired obscurity.
The succour of the industrial hubs like Patna and Kolkata,
Aiding sustain the lives of a plethora
With its water and banks and hallowed aura.
Draining into the massive Arabian Sea,
Finishing its struggles of sorrows and glee
But what about the obnoxious substances which we feed our Mother?
How it destroys and saddens her, do we ever bother?
The same, holy water, now filthy,
Reaches homes and places
Consumed by people, nevertheless admiring its beauty.
How vile ye are Man!
Attempting to contaminate her with thou clan,
And using and destroying her for selfish reasons with your plans.
O Ganga! May ye pure every soul,
And to protect and save you from odds and ends ought to be our supreme goal.
Who is last to be served a meal
Who tends to the kids when they fall and squeal
Who transports kids like they're on a Ferris wheel
.... a mother
We live our lives in the fast lane
The days whizz past so fast
Don’t have time to catch our breath
And we hope our good temper will last
We wake our kids in the morning
Make sure they aren’t late for school
Give them breakfast and a well stocked lunchbox
Although the Ninja Turtles box may no longer be cool!
Then we hurry to our day job
and we while away the hours
then its a mad dash home to greet the kids
Some precious ‘me time’ just isn’t ours
Somehow we fit in the shopping
And take the kids to social clubs
A little down time is so important
Spend time with your friends or your hubs
So get yourself a trustworthy babysitter
Maybe a grandparent or a reliable friend
A few hours with no parental responsibilities
Some precious ‘me time’ is a real godsend!
Take care Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
7/27/18
Heads spinning around and round,
Truth no longer first thing that springs to mind.
Integrity hanging on by a thread, as spin takes it out of orbit,
Trust buckled in for a bumpy ride.
Empathy losing ground to spin.
Lovers struggling to hold their partners,
As spin gets ever more vicious.
Spin on sex confusing all,
With dollars at forefront.
Hate moving into overdrive.
Apathy preventing breaks being applied.
Food for thought all spun out,
Fruits of labour spinning off centre.
Few friendships surviving the spin.
Only mountain goats sure footed.
Advertising with no restrictions on spin.
Children strapped to computers,
Inventing new ways to spin.
Families falling against the spin,
As parents practice spinning apart.
Schools spinning on new hubs.
Spin a constant danger to politicians carrying swords.
Voters either casting votes for top spin,
Or choosing not to vote,
Bowing to the no point spin.
Reporters who check for spin losing their bi-lines.
Robots replacing workers slow to spin,
Billionaires protected by a freshly spun cloud.
Books online getting story adjusted to suit new spin.
Drugs and alcohol paying spin undue respect.
Violence now out spinning peace.
Is it too late to take up tennis or cricket?
To take some spin off the top,
Giving hope and grace some time,
With spin doctors in Christmas Past,
Where tops spun true and goodwill was all we had in mind.