Best Hurries Poems
Floating down with grace and ease
Carried off by the Autumn breeze
Rich in hues of orange and red
Landing in the flower bed
What once was buzzing full of life
Now succumbs to the pruning knife
Staring up at the wilted rose
Another season comes to close
Looking for memories of this day
Not forgetting her fun filled stay
Lying amongst the rocks and sticks
I'm the one the little girl picks
Hurries home with the one she took
Placing it in her poetry book
8/05/2014
Categories:
hurries, memory, nature,
Form:
Sonnet
It's summer, and it's the time
to take the train to old Saint Ives
and visit my Aunt Clementine
who lives alone by an old salt mine.
Aunt Clementine, she likes to dine
on mac and cheese at half past nine
then eats big slices of strawberry pie
while she sits and watches the fire flies.
Aunt Clementine loves polka dots
mostly orange, there's quite a lot
on walls and rugs, on kitchen tops
on her clothes and her dog named "Spot".
Aunt Clementine has crazy hair
that flies around most everywhere
while she hurries and scurries
here and there, and likes to say,
"Well, I declare!"
When she puts her lipstick on
Aunt Clementine breaks out in song
and tells me I should sing along
even if I forget or flub or FLOB
she tells me I am never wrong.
My Aunt Clementine is really fun
she certainly is not a nun
and so full of mischief
I just love to come
to be with her is double fun
in my book she is number one!
Categories:
hurries, fun, silly,
Form:
Rhyme
He hurries home late from the office
and hesitates out on the lawn,
the mists are swirling like her dress,
the moon is frowning down.
The music in her soft blue eyes,
that hungry look upon her face
makes him tremble like a teenager
fumbling his first date.
Hoping she's gotten home safely,
beguiled by her lingering perfume,
his wife and kids are sound asleep,
he tiptoes through the family room.
Bedeviled by such fervent yearnings
full-compounded day to day,
a strangled heart, a tortured soul,
old love, new love - there is no easy way.
Categories:
hurries, angst,
Form:
Quatrain
The valley is hushed before daybreak,
until the animals awake.
Fawns snuggle for warmth against their mothers
beneath leaves of aspen trees,
dappled in dawn's pale light.
In thicket and forest, dense with vines and shrubs,
there is a lake with cascading waterfall
where Mama Bear fishes for her hungry cubs.
The sun has reached its zenith as a fireball.
Flora are blooming; fauna sleep in the shade
of clouds that will soon bring an afternoon squall.
Crawlers on forest floor, scurry in parade,
as squirrels nibble acorns to their heart's content.
It's a normal day in this timberland glade.
As dusk hurries daylight to make its descent,
weeping willows shed tears of wistful lament.
amber horizon
sun submerges in the sea ~
wolves howl in the night
September 6, 2020
Writing Challenge - Nature Four in One
Sponsored by: Constance La France
* I chose valley, deer, forest and sunset in the order of
crystalline, kimo, terza rima sonnet, and haiku
Categories:
hurries, nature,
Form:
Terza Rima
“Give them back! Give my tears back, right now—with interest!!”
—Natsuki Takaya
She wrote her marine a letter, hopeful, bright
loved with her kisses and perfume. In sight,
the postman circles ‘round. Expectantly, she
hurries to the wooden box, near the Pear tree.
Spring is in the air with robins mating, daffodils
in potent bloom and the sudden goosebump’ chills.
Sarah shuts her bedroom door, pounces on bed,
allows steam to open the envelope, read what’s said.
“Dear Sarah, soon I go into the fight, I will write more
later, after the attack. Kiss kiss, x x, hug hug score.”
Later he continues with blood, sweat and tears.
Incoherently, blots - black and blue, slide down. Fears
march up and down her spine. Vietnam’s magic trick
was to steal her joy and love. America’s turning quick -
long ere, a neighbor, fathomed regress from her guy,
which would rip the torrential tearful cloud of her eye.
Categories:
hurries, lost love, war,
Form:
Quatrain
'Twas the night before Christmas, I’d forgotten the sprouts
So I sent out a plea to the local boy scouts
I’d remembered the crackers, the turkey and ham
but my guests would expect sprouts, so I was in a jam
The scout leader admitted that I was in a pickle
and he said my family were all somewhat fickle
I said Uncle Bert just adored eating brussels
then he’d fart for days with his lax sphincter muscles
The scout leader had a plan, it is so well thought out
He'd call each scout’s mother to donate just one sprout
Every scout hurries round with one sprout in their hands
soon I have plenty of veg to sate my guest’s demands
On Christmas Day the relations ring my door bell
Pat barges into my kitchen; she makes my life hell
At one time she cooked meals for guys in the Navy
So she has to check if there are lumps in MY gravy
On the stroke of one o’clock I dish up the food
Uncle Bert belches loudly, that man is so rude
They devour all the turkey and round stuffing balls
By the end of the main course I’m climbing the walls!
They don’t offer to help, so I fetch the dessert
Uncle Bert drips brandy butter all over his shirt
Then they guzzle the cheese and finish the wine
Bert then farts profusely, he’s a disgusting swine
Then we sit round the TV to listen to the Queen
Bert’s eaten too much, his face has turned green
Pat gives me a present, of a hand knitted jumper
It’s three sizes too big, I just want to thump her
They’ve descended on me these last fifteen years
I ask if they’ll reciprocate, my words fall on deaf ears
They never say thank you, they drink all my booze
Next year they can whistle, I’m booking a cruise!
Categories:
hurries, christmas, food, humorous,
Form:
Rhyme
Daylight fades, as day is done
A city pulsates out of breath
Headlights duel upon the streets
and I am like the kiss of death
to those who scurry home to eat
They pass me by, on rapid feet
heading to some cozy nest
And I must seek a place to rest
People in the crosswalk pass
with eyes that look the other way
and will not meet my own
They have important things to do
A class to take, a call to make
a meal to cook, a TV show or two
Like squirrels they scatter here and there
It seems the world is on a run
Shrill trumpets of a gale force wind
rattle doors I can't go in
Old news print flies into my face
I hardly feel each new disgrace
I swat away, and brace for more
distrust they have embraced
They see me with such wary eyes
If only they could see my heart
Not long ago I had a dream
A part of something good, it seemed.
I had a life, I had a home
Until it fell apart......
And hard times I have known
By circumstance the fates could be
me who hurries home to see
a family waiting, a table spread
a place to rest my weary head.
Oh, is it just too much to ask
Please look at me, just one true glance
and see that I am just like you
Someone that you used to know
______________________________________
Contest: Being Homeless
Sponsor: The Seeker
10/26/16
Categories:
hurries, loneliness, society,
Form:
Free verse
He approaches fast
We bump - silly heart beats wildly
Him - lost in thought- No word of apology
We pass each other
He approaches fast
Eyes so blue - elicits soundless sighs
He stares - out into distant skies
We pass each other
He approaches fast
Sensual lips - beg a moonlight kiss
A dropped beat- my heart does miss
We pass each other
He approaches fast
New day dawns - new courage found
Courage flees - from lips no sound
We pass each other
He approaches fast
Gold tipped streaks - on hair of brown
He neither smiles - nor does he frown
We pass each other
He approaches fast
Hint of down - on a manly chin
Imagining stroking it - I hide a grin
We pass each other
He approaches fast
Convinced he’ll smile - eye contact meet
He hurries by - I concede defeat
We pass each other
He approaches fast
Smile he does - chatting on the phone
Pangs of hurt - He’s not alone
We pass each other
He approaches fast
I hurry on - with eyes downcast
A bump I feel - and look aghast
I look into the bluest eyes
My heart it stops
I groan
I die
A quizzical smile plays on his lips
Oh beating heart that soars and dips
And so this moment I shall seize
Forever in my memory freeze
We stand and grin- no words to utter
Still ----We don’t pass each other
Footnote:
School over and kids thronged a mall, where I sat sipping my coffee in a café. I couldn’t help overhearing some high school girls, loudly talking about their teenage crushes which prompted me to write this amusing poem. I’m sure parents of teenage girls the world over will undeniably identify with. Oh!! And of course Taylor Swift was one of their favourite singers.
Music video by Taylor Swift performing ‘You Belong With Me’ (C) 2009 Big Machine Records, LLC
Published on Jun 16, 2009 #VEVOCertified on April 16, 2011.
Categories:
hurries, crush, emotions, fantasy, teenage,
Form:
Verse
She's tucked in bed of floral white
To mommy's hand, she holds on tight
No hunger pangs disrupt her night
In dreams she sees candied delight
He finds a place out on the street
He's scared of strangers that he'll meet
A piece of bread has been his treat
In dreams he sees his mother sweet
The morning comes, a brand new day
She hurries, for she can't delay
There's time at school for work and play
Her mom escorts her on the way
He hears a noise which makes him wake
It's cold; his body starts to shake
How many coins will begging make?
"Please help me, sir, for heaven's sake!"
Why should she have more toys to keep?
Why should he live in pain so deep?
When day is done, each child will sleep
In dreams she'll smile, while he will weep
And as you read this little rhyme
explain to me, what is the crime
of that young boy who's doing time
with heart of gold beneath the grime
Is there no way to right this wrong?
Will he get lost among the throng
in quest for love, a smile, a song
some food to make his body strong?
If circumstance would turn around
to make you sleep there on the ground
your crying drowned by city sound
would you not dream of being found?
So while you're kneeling by her bed
to plant your kisses on her head,
Think of that boy who lives in dread
and share your wealth, your home, your bread
A child should live a life carefree
and sleep in warm security
So hear my plea, and let this be
the day you change his destiny
Categories:
hurries, child, pain, poverty,
Form:
Rhyme
Where Do Poets Go
A tribute to All Poetry Soup Poets of the Past
Where do Poets go, when it’s time to create?
Imagery through thoughts, so that others can relate,
What place can they find, that can offer immense solitude,
When creative juices are flowing, at random magnitudes?
How do they find time, through the hurries of day?
To put things in perspective in a most unusual way.
Why put so much passion, on the pages of each write?
Words of joy and laughter joining those of grim and strife.
These questions may seem trivial, to one without a clue,
So I’ll try my best to answers, from a layman’s point of view.
We Poets, all go to the same place, into the channels of our mind,
To create beauty through written words, for pleasures yours and mine.
Poets are no different, than an artist working on a set,
Perfected lines of color, mirrored image, words of text!
Creativity and imagination, is what it take to find,
The place where Poet’s go, on their quest to design!
Written By: Sarita Milliner © 2/12/16
Submitted for: Your Personal Best of 2016– Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Frank Herrera
Categories:
hurries, appreciation, perspective, tribute,
Form:
Light Verse
The warmth no longer comes
it seems to only leave.
The furry ones, all
caught in hypnotic disbelief:
hardening ground's
taken root
where once
gardening grounds
(forsaken, mute)
were once and again
makin' fruit.
Each beast, shaking
like a leaf
(though, truth be told
I've only ever
seen 'em dance)
as if to compel
the sun to
sidle up
'n stay a bit.
The butterflies are all turned
to windblown, drying leaves.
The biting clouds of gnats
are now
the biting cold of early flakes.
All hatched and reared
(the secret thrush, the ungainly, splashtering loon,
the burly snakes)
as evening hurries home
to be home for the night.
It's so early, so late.
The fatted robin's gone
just as the field mice hid
from barn-now-lapcat.
This constellation of crows,
a raucous perch, tried
that hiding ploy: their clotted knotted
silhouetted faux-leaf blackening hide out
where the leaves’d lived but crows are not
meant to blot the low sun as they’d plotted...
And so it was as so its been since Oh, so ever since -
a bird of prey, answered their
plaintive caws with painted claws -
a fracturous startle from above
a crash! a cry! a scattering!
one down, one murder
still.
Nothing softens, nothing greens.
No flowering as Southern urges
force flocks into making V-lines.
Each nest left: all break routines.
Summer is souring, as frost emerges
and last-one-picked, the pines -
lefties left in left field;
icing soon, their needles their shield
and, the coach never intervenes...
The light more slow to show
more tugged and bent to slant.
The sunshafts seem to push
the cold ahead as snow by plows.
And for our part we too as well
well, we turn away, turn indoors.
We turn our dreams to
make-it-through this.
We turn our collars up,
and too, our eyes to floors.
We turn our (each seems to)
thoughts inside this shell
not towards Inner but
rather, of course, truly from-
far and away from the
Cold & Falling, closing crisp.
How unlike the Scholar's Cup!
Our husks indoors,
our thoughts follow
but burrow deeper still.
Don't blame the light
for not keeping company
so deep where hides
a fearful, frigid 'you.'
It's Autumn
all turns on
one point.
It's Autumn
Fall burns on.
It's Autumn
sun burns on
one point
(of light.)
I have never felled so alive
as now.
Categories:
hurries, autumn, philosophy, seasons,
Form:
Free verse
I’m on a twilight stroll with my beau,
we take a route we’ve often walked before.
Mystical moonlight flickers in the trees,
“whose woods these are, I think I know”*
A hooting owl startles me, I fall and twist my knee,
I try to stand, cry out pain; I cannot walk with ease.
We can see twinkling lights in the distance,
perhaps someone’s at home who can help me.
My beau covers me with his warm coat,
He hurries away so he can get assistance.
I pray that he doesn’t have too far to go,
and that the cottage is not too remote.
He soon returns with another guy,
I know his face, oh hello Steve I cry.
I was almost certain he lived close by,
as he sells wood carvings which I buy!
Lines to Awaken your Muse Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
*Chosen line - Whose woods these are I think I know - Robert Frost
02/27/20
Categories:
hurries, pain, romance, tree,
Form:
Rhyme
'...how do I love thee, let me count the ways.'
Shakespeare: Sonnet LX111
He stops to buy her roses and a card
to mark their anniversary.
Strolling absent-mindedly he crosses
to the park and in his reveries he hears
two songbirds singing sweetly in the trees,
a melody that cheers his saddened soul.
He hurries to the nursing home to greet
his darling wife, the half that makes him whole.
He cannot let a day go e'er he sees
her smiling face, that smile of sweet
contentment that illuminates their souls
and redefines their state of grace.
Living on their memories they chatter
like the songbirds, their conversation bright.
He tucks her in and wishes her goodnight,
God bless, sleep tight, (don't let those bedbugs bite!)
Categories:
hurries, love
Form:
Verse
Jack Frost got me hustling
To clear my car of excess snow
Bare brown branches bustling
As frigid blue breeze blows
The forecast was right or wrong
As I sit in the car heating it up
On the radio red Christmas songs
Sing along makes freezing fun enough
I watch a parent play with child
Shaking tree to sprinkle white flurries
Warm eyes that twinkle as they smile
Despite chill no one really hurries
When it snows in the south
People take notice in awe gaze
Kids squeal with joy so loud
As they gather it in hands amazed
Purple panic shoppers raspberry react
Buying bread milk eggs in excess
We giggle at their inability to relax
And see snow days as God blessed
Despite the nights spent so cold
Someone who lacks winter heat
May be a poor homeless soul
Or you due to a car wreck on street
Snow in the south is a white dream
Everything seems to take it easy
Coffee tea and cocoa hot we drink
With warm hearts despite freezing
Categories:
hurries, america, appreciation, art, blue,
Form:
Rhyme
It is a secret
You’re afraid to reveal
Too much of your heart
You’re afraid, so you conceal
The real you, the real truth
The hues of hope and faith
The sweetness of such grace
It is a worry
You’re too aware of
A darkness that hurries
To dim your sparkle, to dissuade
Your kindness, your blazing
Spirit, your warmth and sincerity
The feelings that make you believe
In the brilliance of a light…
That pours out over the blackest night
It is a doubt
You’re ashamed to speak of
A discouragement, a dread – clouding
Out all the good, the amazement,
The wonders that assure the soul
There is a joy that grows and grows,
A miracle so abundant it consoles,
Phenomenal love, compassion so perfect
It is a lonely ache
Surviving the hopes in your heart,
Isolation from the whisper of grace,
Seclusion from the chance
To reach out to someone with faith,
Smile through the burning of a past
Where you didn’t know kindness or the
Meaning of relationship – fulfillment
It is a detested place
Where there is no honesty or thanks
Where light never makes its way
Through the desperation, the grief, the despair
That seems to penetrate each inspiration
With seeds of distrust and reservations,
Suspicions that keep you from the answers,
The trust that stirs your heart to assurance
It is there, in the shadows
Where hearts are broken and spirits
Are destroyed by the sorrow and pain,
The endless feelings of loss and disgrace
The abundance of miseries and mysteries
Who make life feel like a horror tale
Instead of the promising narration of inspirations…
The poetry of a life who is guided
By the hand of One who knows
The heart is made up of more than one
Poem, more than one tale, more than one
Verse that leads to the conclusion, the victory
Comes in believing that the ending, the finish line
Will bring a reassurance, a confidence, more penetrating than the
Past could possibly destroy with its uncertainty and malice!
The poetry of a life – is created by
Listening to His love – His light
Breathing softly, gentling…
All the dark shadows and strife
And - FEAR is the final sacrifice!
Revealing Your Soul And Other Tension Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
January 8, 2023
Categories:
hurries, faith, fear, god, hope,
Form:
Free verse