Best Hustling Poems


Premium Member Invisible: Co-Written With C Devonshire

clad in rags, he wanders on Wall Street
   he is invisible to hustling stock brokers
       he is a man with no money, no property
          a hapless struggler of excessive loan burdens
 
bitter winter winds blow across Broadway
   he is invisible to affluent theatre-goers wearing warm winter coats
      he is a man who watches them scurry past the cardboard box that is his bed
        like a rain-dog, huddling in the shadows of alleys and doorways
 
he hears deafening explosions of New Year fireworks
    he is invisible to the revellers
       he is a man who cowers, recalling gunfire of a war he fought
         echoing through his mind in restless nights
           the incessant thumping of traumatic stress
 
he is invisible...a victim of post-Vietnam, Afghanistan and Iraq
    who once bore a uniform and served his country with pride 
       he is invisible suffering alone, paying the price 
         through severe disabilities and permanent scars
 
with sadness, he watches voters going to the polls
    he is invisible, a veteran with no voice in elections
        he is a man who cannot vote without an “address”
           a placard on a pavement might catch the eye
   
unemployed, homeless, unseen
    but most of all forgotten
       he is a man who seems invisible
          but he is still a man


-------------------------------------------------------------
This is co-written by Paul Callus & Carolyn Devonshire
in remembrance of our war veterans.

[Published @ Muse to Move (A.P.F. Publisher UK 2017]

Shapes of Smoke

   His fragile limbs in a caged body 
    seeking proteins from ivy drips
     vulnerable fears hushed by whirring darkness
      paranoia draped in wavering existence of malady
       sea of sick humans hanging like leaves from willow
      mitigated by prayers of angels in white coats
    yet lowered pulse rate in hopeful daylight
   but his sumptuous mind holds the key to freedom
    in deepest slumber his twisted cage breaks free
     arising hopes float in ropes of subconscious mist
      his smiling shadow traces whispers of memories
        he sways his brittle fingers in ecstasy 
          shapes of smoke growing as titans in silence
            his love is a ghost that the others can't see
              exploding stars in topaz lit utopia paint
               charcoal brush adorning sparkling bristles of love
               colourful patterns on canvas of blank memory
              flashing waves entrancing visions of kisses alight
             blankets of amnesia in existence but he dances
           on a hustling vintage platform emerging in fog
         breeze in his red shirt chasing scarlet sunsets
        he boards a crimson wagon longing for a journey
      holding roses for Aphrodite in the land of swans
     simmering in flashes of blooming glitters.
      Rising dawn clicks the buttons in his mind
       blank memories, ivy drips lock him away
         in a caged body his fragile limbs rest
          nobody knows he visits a soothing paradise 
           fog curls under his pillow in deep oceans
         till slithering hazy sapphire nights arrive


July 20, 2020

Delirium Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
~Premiere Contest Winner: 1st Place

Premium Member Faithful Shadow

I saw a death shadow in the eyes of my infancy
a soft mercy with calm blue fancy,
in childhood, when free will asserted it's wild supremacy
we sang of star charriots and laughter loyal to hyperactivity,
I see a death shadow in the prime of my ascendancy
outlining my temple of truth, whistling thy words of wizardry, 

I hear It like the madness of morning's ending,
I taste It as if from the burning breast milk of a Dragoness,
I see It in the bleeding smile of my heart's kindness,
I speak to It when love's luster unlocks the lunacy of loneliness,
I feel the humble shade of It's jade justice in a world hot and hustling,

My death shadow has a surface sweet with patient purpose,
It is not rough with forboding frost that frights the fight of flesh,
rattling the scythe of doom and cackling for cataleptic crisis it does not,
It is not a grim God or a greedy Goddess, no taxing terror trumpeted,
It has never been an angel of escape or a demon of dour delirium, 
when suffering becomes a seduction of brute beauty I share in it's wise joy,
my death shadow follows the desperate yet disciplined form of my body battle
through life's plethora of coy poisons and possessive passions,
marching along side me with martial grace, sculpting my face with lion spirit -

J.A.B.


Seaside

The see-saw backsides of obesity traverse across the promenade
  Led by bustling torpedo breasts thrusting through the hustling throng;
Past tarnished chromium espresso bars, burger vans with frying lard,
  Ice cream parlours, sagging deckchairs and the sunlight blazing on.
Splayed upon the greying sands with butts of cigarettes in shallow graves,
  Bikini babes in thin floss thongs, sun oil basted, lie and fry,
The effluence of sewage farms foams ochre crests upon the waves,
  Cheap sunglasses and tinted shades warp vision as the seagulls cry.
Or are they coughing in the choking rise of hotdog onion smoke,
  Or searing blast of diesel oil drove upwards from the fairground sprawl,
And do they dive for fish and chips discarded by the glutted folk
  Until cholesterol weighs them down and they no longer fly but crawl?
Oh, I did like to be beside the seaside in the golden memories of my youth,
  Before the tattooed mobs and greedy slobs and moguls came to town,
And though rose-tinted, real dreams of childhood wonder sing of truth,	
  But now I’d much prefer it if they torched and burned the whole place down.
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.

I Sought Him

I sought Him by the roadside,
Where the flowers grew so fair,
And breezes blew, and birds sang,
But He wasn't there.

I sought Him in the marketplace,
In the busy thoroughfare,
Among the hustling, bustling crowds,
But He wasn't there.

I sought Him deep within my heart,
Through solitude and prayer,
I sought Him, yes, with all my heart,
And now He's everywhere.

Yes He is always with me,
No matter where I roam,
Because, you see, I gave my heart,
To be His very home.

(copyright 10/30/15)

Premium Member Snow in the South

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


The Places We Call Home

In concrete jungles with hustling crowds and throngs, 
Or where a quiet countryside, meets golden rays of sun, 
The places we call home are, each individually unique, 
Holding full years of happiness with heartfelt mystique.

Be it a humble little cottage nestled close by the shore, 
With gentle waves, that caress white sand forevermore, 
In its cozy little nook, there is complete solace and peace, 
Where all of your anxiety and worries dissipate and cease.

Maybe a bustling borough of a metropolis’s grand design, 
Where tall skyscrapers reach up toward heaven, sublime, 
In the biggest of places where we chase after our dreams, 
Where diversity and culture cascade like mighty streams.

Or a hillbilly’s cabin, high up in a mountain’s cool embrace, 
Where trees and birds are united with tranquility and grace, 
In the heart of nature, where we seek and find lost serenity, 
The places where we reconnect, with our true self-identity.

A childhood home, with its stories, and memories of ole, 
Where trite fairy tales and laughter are woven and retold, 
In its warm, familiar  walls, family values were firmly set, 
The places where time cannot erase, nor ever truly forget.

The places that we call home, in all of their different forms, 
Hold the essence of our lives amid, the toils and the storms, 
No matter where we may ramble, never mind where we roam, 
The places we cherish most will always be home sweet home.

“Home is where the heart repose,” so let us honor each place, 
With charity and affection, while our heart’s desire we chase, 
While looking for your heart’s desire is tiring, scary, and hard, 
That’s why you shouldn’t look further than your own backyard.

Premium Member Mighty Casey

Parody of "Casey At The Bat" with apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer

The outlook was quite brilliant for the high school stud that year—
the senior prom was coming up, and Casey had no fear.
The babe he hoped to take he knew would happily comply,
for Casey was quite popular, the envy of each guy.

And she, of course, was stunning, in a Barbie sort of way,
and any fellow would be proud to date her any day!
There was ease in Casey's manner, a real confidence infusion—
that she would smile and tell him 'yes' was a foregone conclusion.

For Casey was the captain of his high school football team
and she was head cheerleader, with a face that made boys dream.
Deciding he would ask her to the prom with a sweet note,
composed in a romantic style, which late one night he wrote.

Next day at lunch, the courtyard packed with hustling and bustle,
wearing the shirt that he picked out that best showed off his muscle—
approaching boldly, Casey handed her his heart-shaped note.
His dream girl read it, then looked up and softly cleared her throat.

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The high school pep band plays somewhere, and high school hearts are light;
And somewhere boys are laughing, and somewhere schoolgirls shout,
But there's no joy in his world—mighty Casey has struck out.


Written 25 Dec 2020
© John Watt  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Where Dragons Come To Hide

Then I knew what lay over the distant horizon
For the sun dared me to follow it to the other side
Where light took shape in a proud day’s kaizen,
Morning accompanied yesterday’s journey inside
The frolic of the night where dragons had come to hide.

I awakened to the sound of recorders and flutes
Neatly clad pedestrians hustling to the cities’ centers,
Skyscrapers built like working men in sturdy boots --
I watched from subway steps one hurriedly enters
While my country’s powerful slept like mad dissenters.

My peace was suddenly shattered by earth's shaking
One hapless hemisphere grating against a silent other
Trying to foresee the future, theirs for the taking,
Because passivity and paucity of concern smother
Devaluing the halcyon days of my father and mother.

The sun bade me follow upward to the eastern rim
To view objectively another point of view in time
And space, that I shall experience in lessons less grim,
Awakening my heart chilled, then fluttered in mime
Seems humankind, en toto, has a rugged uphill to climb.

EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
written February 3, 2022
especially for "Quintain (English)" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet

#76 on Poetry Soup's Best Poems List
February 25, 2022

Be On Guard

Cool breeze swept into the room
Sound of trees rustling and hustling
Birds were silent, winds singing
Fright walked in ghostly gloom

 Here stood a bloody evil-like monster
A deadly giant of about seven feet tall
Crouched in the dark of the house wall
Crouching slowly, a mortal master

 I held my breath behind the door
A bang sounded from behind me
Door locked and safe was the key
He banged the door the more

 Baam! Baam!! Baam!!! 

The bloody monster prowls like a lion
Its desire is to devour, thirsty for blood
Its heart brims in a boiling flood
“Be On Guard! Be tough as an iron!” 

Had wished this monster will stay away
And not crouched behind the door
I have prayed to my Lord the more
Yet this monster prowls till day


At my doorstep is this bloodily beast 
Haunted I go tainted
Life's made men darkly painted
Life has taken a turn and none knows the twist

Be on guard!

Wales To Me

 Wales to me is a floating melody of soothing hums, 
  when sea breeze to tranquil shores comes,
   sprinkling buried golden hues, 
    over swaying grassland in recluse.

       Lulling little kids to breathe free -
    in spiral dreams, come sing of Wales to me.

 Wales is an exquisite painting of ancient mysteries,
   of the hill forts from buried cities
     that once bubbled exuberance in glee
      now boast of a beauty carefree.

 When daisies bloom in lilac spring,
  asleep under soothing blankets sing,
   oft shimmering crystals on canvas-
    on starry nights, come paint Wales for me.

  Wales is an unwritten muse to be poured in ink
   from the red brick window turning pink,
    preserved in the breeding-box valley,
     shimmering dew on golden hay in old alley.

 Rising aroma of cuisines from wet chimneys,
  hustling wind rushing through wagon dinghies,
   chasing me to the castle in hilltop fields -
    in long lost pastures, write of Wales to me.
 
 Wales is a rejuvenating dream that quenches my thirst 
  to explore unseen soaring bubbles burst,
   taking me through white patches of dusk,
    in blue skies drenching me with musk.

 The mornings welcomed by chirping bird,
  lamb white days riding with their herd,
   mauve twilight sparkling rising moon,
     beholding me from afar as I swoon.

          Beyond continents and vast seas free -
       loving people, come dream of Wales with me.


June 10, 2020

Wales Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
~Premiere Contest Winner: 3rd Place

Venom of Many

Tripping on the waves of fascination,
Could the tail lights of your love be far ahead?
The ripple effects of yesterday, can be felt today.
The balance of separation, not so equal for both.

Evaluating the coverage that you have been giving me,
Staring into your eyes, I am not sure of your love.
Scaling the levels of your desire throughout the years,
Never reaching the top will be forever on my mind.

Reaching into your temple of perfection,
Can you sense the change of direction?
Always trying to lure you into life's little games,
Don't always try to be perfect, let your instincts drive you.

Animal behavior sweeps through all that have come before.
Strange days have been bestowed upon your soul.
The secret commentary of your life has been revealed.
A slight opening in your appearance has amazed all.

Just missing the opportunity as I venture on.
Hustling others has become a game of adventure for you.
Not buying into your cover up, I have told others.
Your intricate smiles has been the venom of many.

Premium Member Erase my Existence

Erase my existence
I break my own heart
until the black smoke infests
breathless lungs,
tortured by the taste
of soul’s inkless touch.

If I am your refrain ~
burn my name
into the pulse of pain,
I need not the sermon
for loneliness 
as love asks me to 
simplify my demons.
If only words could warm
the wounds I wear
like a warrior lost
in the toxic wilderness of want,
perhaps the algebraic angst
would no longer multiply
and divide the despair,
subtract the sickness
estimate the end ratio
from the sum of somberness
       to leave and resolve
a remorseless remainder
too erratic for the
                sapphire sigh.

I am an equation 
without an equilibrium 
measuring the metaphorical
distance between your
dreams and my darkness,
a shattered diamond
scattered on the tip of
infinite intersection of infatuation,
calculating the chaos
amidst your fickle fractions,
I wander as the unknown,
faithless ~ consumed in fears
like a forgotten kiss from grief.

So let the numbers roll numb,
toss a silver to the twisted
tower of garnet tears,
there I will forever remain
the quiescence that failed
to quantify quaking skies
of conflicted clouds,
carrying tales I wove
as if I asked for
              this walking nightmare.

Must your hustling highs 
see the muse of madness
losing sanity?
I know myself in this
mathematical mayhem ~
a variable without a value,
collapsing into complex
combinations of
constant nothingness,
a negative numeral
drained behind a decimal point,
a disappointment hidden
beneath matte curves
of lipstick lullabies
posted on the walls
of sinners and sunsets.

I never wanted to be the reason
your rhymes wept,
but I am doomed,
a jinxed Juliet of sorrow...

I could have been
your guardian glow,
glistening in confetti gold ~
yet, I am too broken
to be your pink-laced star-catcher,
it isn’t written in fate;
it’s tattooed in bones.
this is the sound of tainted trammels
releasing you from the 
smoldering
skin of eternal inferno ~
pardon the paranoia 
 it's haunted inside,
            this is my 
        island 
            of 
                      s    t
                            o    r 
                                m
                                  s ...

Premium Member patriot

patriot
loyal, proud
honoring, praising, saluting
USA, soldier, criminal, miscreant
deceiving, dissembling, hustling
crooked, cagey
traitor

go into sanctuaries

HONORABLE AWARD POEM : 
Allpoetry July 26
Prompt : Evanescence: Album Sanctuary
Song : Sanctuary 
_____________________________

[Intro]

Now is the time 
awake to shine —
above and below together !
separation’s in smithereens
sky an expanse filled with dreams
no more distortions beaming 
towers toppling, new earth asking
truth no masking —

[Verse 1]

Go into sanctuaries
solitude in limitless dark
building safe arks
inner strength uncrackled
virgin life unbuckled 

[Pre-Chorus]

You are here touching 
astral stroking 
hush hushing

[Chorus]

We are our own sanctuaries 
lies with hypocrisies no odyssey 
let them walk skew paths 
we make our own ark

[Verse 2]

Plumed serpents we moulted 
watching for those who came 
sanctified by our suffering 
in darkness we were buffering 

[Chorus]

We are our own sanctuaries 
lies with hypocrisies no odyssey 
let them walk skew paths 
we make our own ark

[Bridge] 

Over aeons we served the All
missions without constrictions
guided by seven rays alluding 
now we are concluding 

[Interlude]

Into sanctuaries we go
hush hushing 
towers are toppling
solitude in limitless dark
coupling, no hustling 

[Chorus]

We are our own sanctuaries 
lies with hypocrisies no odyssey 
let them walk skew paths 
we make our own ark —-

__________________________

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