Best Musters Poems
He called it love and his captivating way,
She called it fear and longed for the day.
All alone she cried those bitter nights,
While he ran around to his hearts delight.
He had her heart he pulled her strings,
All she ever wanted was the joy that only true love can bring.
He controlled her mind, her spirit, her soul,
All alone with no hopes of ever achieving her goals.
Completely stripped of confidence and pride,
She became a victim of his heartless and evil side.
She was hardly a child when he stole her heart,
Lured in to his web with lies and broken promises from the start.
Now all of her dreams have faded away,
As she musters up courage to try to make it through another day.
He has convinced her that what he says is the final word,
No matter what she had read or heard.
You can’t make it out there, alone, is what he said!
You won’t last a week till somebody finds you dead.
So callous and cruel he chose those frightening words to keep her here,
But she had reached the end and leaving was the only way and she saw it clear.
She said you’re right and I should hush so let’s not fight,
But her things were packed, she’d be leaving this night.
He got all dressed and went out to make the town,
She called her a taxi and left that clown.
She broke the bonds that held her there,
Now she’s on her own enjoying life and breathing in this new found air.
This little sparrow has found her wings,
Enjoying everything this life can possibly bring.
Categories:
musters, husband, lost love, sad,
Form:
Narrative
A twisting whirly musters
hard baked leaves and bark.
There’s another red sunset,
just before it’s dark.
The wilting wattles weep,
and plea ‘I can’t live on!’
The strong keep fighting drought.
The weak, soon dead and gone.
Wheat fields and their bounty,
wither in the sun to die.
Red dust leaves forever,
adding color to the sky.
A man who’s living heartache,
is this economic pain.
Prays to the Lord and waits…
Then he can smell the rain.
An inch falls in the Mallee;
the Mallee don’t need much
to fill the pans and lowlands,
that yearn to feel the touch.
In the days that follow,
changing is the scene.
An inch here in the Mallee,
and red soil turns to green.
Lightning dances in the sky
to the beat of thunders drum,
heartbreak storm passes on,
the follow up don’t come.
But drifting from the west,
clouds hide the sun away,
land is cast in shadow…
the sky turns steely gray.
And rain falls in the Mallee;
the Mallee don’t need much
to fill the pans and lowlands,
that yearn to feel its touch.
In the days that follow,
changing is the scene.
Rain here in the Mallee,
and red soil turns to green.
Categories:
musters, nature, weather,
Form:
Lyric
Life keeps going to find his purpose
he strolls across verdant plains and trudges up the hills
sometimes dejection follows rejection and distress
darkness engulfs
and something spooky emerges
looming large to form something horrid…
a hideous hunchbacked hiatus.
Life slows down…wary of the
impending hindrances for his progress
and there is a temporary pause.
This hideous hiatus distracts him, traps his mind,
capable of taking any form…like
alarming anxiety… about denial and failure
gloomy grief… at the loss of a loved one
frantic fear… of loneliness and uncertainty
abominable anger… that cannot be controlled
pernicious pride… without the grace of humility
disgusting jealousy… of others’ success
dreary vacuity… that fills the desperate mind
…it keeps hovering around on and off
in many more such formless forms
Yet something prompts Life to try to move.
He musters courage and proceeds further
as he imbibes wisdom
from little things he sees
in nature
in his day-to-day life…like:
A fertile green land in a vast sandy desert
Tiny seeds that spurt to grow
into young new seedlings
The gleaming full moon
spreading soft light
upon dreadful paths at midnight
A toddler who tries to get up
and walk with wobbly steps
in spite of falling down many times
A ladder in which
hope takes her first step
in its rungs
and ascends to new heights
overcoming obstacles
The dots of a rangoli
that would never let
the motifs of our thoughts waver
imparting spiritual insights into life
A pure white dove
sitting with its pair
a sign of hope
of finding a lost love.
As hope follows every form of hiatus
like buds finding way to bloom
at every trench of rocky soil
Life advances on and on…
Categories:
musters, hope, life,
Form:
Free verse
I REMEMBER
I remember when I was only THREE
And a total stranger ran off with me.
I remember when I was FOUR
a screaming baby, I wasn’t the only one, any more.
I remember when I was FIVE
Starting at Musters Rd. Infants School West Bridgford, scared alive.
I remember when I was SIX
Our taxi business went bust what a fix.
I remember when I was SEVEN
Thieves killed my pet rabbit, I think it went to heaven.
I remember when I was EIGHT,
Real coal fires in the grate.
I remember when I was NINE,
Playing skipping with my friends, Using the (the clothes line.)
I remember when I was TEN,
The old garden shed, We turned it into a den.
I remember when I was ELEVEN
Having to go to bed at half past seven
I remember when I was TWELVE,
My whip and top I played with it a lot.
I remember when I was THIRTEEN,
Our first TV, set, black and white, to me, the best I’d seen.
I remember when I was FOURTEEN,
My first boyfriend, what a hunk, What a dream.
I remember when I was FIFTEEN,
Starting work, earning money, I was so very keen.
I remember it was all so very long ago,
It feels like a dream.
Categories:
musters, childhood
Form:
Rhyme
I REMEMBER
I remember when I was only THREE
And a total stranger ran off with me.
I remember when I was FOUR
a screaming baby, I wasn’t the only one, any more.
I remember when I was FIVE
Starting at Musters Rd. Infants School West Bridgford, scared alive.
I remember when I was SIX
Our taxi business went bust what a fix.
I remember when I was SEVEN
Thieves killed my pet rabbit, I think it went to heaven.
I remember when I was EIGHT,
Real coal fires in the grate.
I remember when I was NINE,
Playing skipping with my friends, Using the (the clothes line.)
I remember when I was TEN,
The old garden shed, We turned it into a den.
I remember when I was ELEVEN
Having to go to bed at half past seven
I remember when I was TWELVE,
My whip and top I played with it a lot.
I remember when I was THIRTEEN,
Our first TV, set, black and white, to me, the best I’d seen.
I remember when I was FOURTEEN,
My first boyfriend, what a hunk, What a dream.
I remember when I was FIFTEEN,
Starting work, earning money, I was so very keen.
I remember it was all so very long ago,
It feels like a dream.
Categories:
musters, life
Form:
Rhyme
I stare at the stark darkness ahead,
My hands squeeze the steering wheel
While a simple trepidation musters its way to my heart
The road is long, my headlights keeping shadows in check
I see the smooth path, intrigued by its uniform contentment
My tires and many tires before have moseyed yonder upon it
In the dark and light alike, with perspectives all their own,
Had they once thought, in the dusk or in the sun,
How much more will this road tolerate?
How much harder will the sun beat upon it,
And will the chilled darkness one night crumble it to nothingness?
There is no answer of course,
For they are silly inquiries, dimming campfire talks
And really, questions stem from a lonely mind blabbering alone…
The road moves unobtrusively,
Or am I moving?
Pressing this car with privilege to play its role,
Bravely contacted with the cold
Running steadily
Through the friction of the tires
This road, it will crack someday, in all the usual places
Dulling, eroding, becoming near-natural
Just to be made new and safe again
Ready for man and roadkill…
I will ask one more time for solitude’s sake,
Why is it so perpetually smooth?
I expected a bumpy night in this desolate stretch
But we should not have the ability to expect what disturbs us…
I am reminded that roads do not mean to satisfy little wonderments
Can care less for these zooming contrivances
That we sit in comfortably, turning on the radio to drown out the mutability
Tonight I bask in it, and though I am not fully lost in the night,
The road and this car keep me feeling secure,
Even when surrounded by wilderness
It occurs to me a lot—
How can one feel so human?
In the comfort of a car, we escape the darkness of the wild
Only barely,
And the road behind me,
Well it is abandoned, forgotten for a while
Till more wheels spin across its surface some other day
It is so smooth,
Barren and ordinary
Not existing to dream its own existence
But it is gracefully real, and getting realer
As I continue to gaze through the glass
Categories:
musters, car, confusion, emotions, night,
Form:
Free verse
We sit opposite to each other during class.
I struggle to start.
She sits motionless.
As I look her way I can't help but wonder,
what ideas are swarming in her brain.
A condition known as 'Locked in Syndrome',
has all but controlled her being, but not her brain.
I realize she is getting excited.
Her brain is racing with ideas.
She sees her thoughts as if written on a chalkboard.
She tastes them as though she had taken a bite.
The sounds she hears are deafening.
She wonders if she should put them in print.
Her hands don't move,
nor do her feet.
But those eyes, those big beautiful eyes can tell the story.
She musters up the confidence and sitting in front of her computer,
writes with her eyes!
The writer in me wants you to know
If she can do this,
There is no reason I cannot write
a simple poem.
Thursday August 12, 2021
Categories:
musters, appreciation, confidence, courage, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
Living the Dream
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
From Hobart to Cape York from Perth to Sydney
And all the cities, towns and country in-between
I am visiting places on this Island I’ve never seen
Experiencing the highs and lows and living the dream
East and west of the great divide a picture so different
In the west the landscape so bruised, dry and parched
With the drought lingering and causing so much suffering
People so resolute and tough don’t know the meaning of giving up
East of the divide a picture of greenery as far as the eye can see
Not feeling the hardship of life unlike their cousins on the other side
Here the cities and country towns are vibrant and alive
For the mountains hide the devastation on the western side
Thousands of kilometers and thousands of liters of fuel
Not to mention the thousands of dollars well spent
With my Ute and van I’m able to greet a new day in a new place
So every day is a new adventure called living the dream
So many new and old friends I have met and greeted
Lots of campfires and happy hours under the stars
Filled with stories of travel, adventure and friendship
The memories of which will stay with me fore-ever
So many places I have been, so much I have experienced and seen
The sea of sugar cane from that stretches the eastern coast
The beaches, the forests, the mountains, the flora and fauna
All visited and reached by manmade roads that stretch from coast to coast
The country music musters so enjoyed by so many travelers
The buildings and relics of old so rich in fame and history
The diverse cultures that live on because people care
Are just a small part of living the dream in Australia
I will keep travelling as I follow the ribbon of tar
For every day I wake to something so different
As my life unfolds towards an ending down the track
I’ll sleep with the memories, I’m living the dream.
Categories:
musters, adventure, , western,
Form:
Free verse
The scarecrow
Surrounded in a field of sugar cane
The sun begins to set
He musters out a yawn
A horizon he has seen for the last 34 years
From which he was placed to lay and hang
He ponders to himself
I am made of straw
Just a device
For the so called alien of nature
I receive no love
Only hatred and torment
On rainy days
I am chilled to the bone
Mushy and soaked
On sunny days the crows pick
And make fun
I have no friends
Only the creepy crawlies
That dwell upon my body
they eat me alive
I wonder
Why
Why
Why do I deserve such a life!
I still live even though I have fallen apart!
A strong breeze brushes past The rows of fields
through my straw dwelling
suddenly
Silence Unbearable silence
I then hear a voice
I turn my head to the source
It whispers
You help me survive
The scarecrows body shakes
Tears pour down his face
The scarecrow smiles
Categories:
musters, crazy, emotions, fantasy, feelings,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
As the light dims and dances on the horizon
A menace stirs from its slumber, slinks from the shadows.
The game move to and fro, staying sit means certain death.
The eyes of death blink with certain deadly cunning,
paws step lightly and then begins the running.
The cry goes out to all, Life is being written in tooth and claw.
Animals become scatterings in the night, dust and sand dance between their feet.
The sound resonates slowly steadily, like the first rains of the season, until lighting strikes.
The roar is deafening, tooth and claw bearing.
The cry goes out, the shadows of terror are about.
Tawny flashes move back and forth, distress and fear prowl among the animals.
Brown eyes stair into the blackness of the night.
Knowing that courage musters to challenge the assault on their fallen comrade.
STANDING TO ATTENTION IN RANKS OF HOOVES AND HORNS
BORN TO BE WARRIORS OF THE BUSH, BUFFALO STAND TALL.
FORGED BY TRAILS OF NEAR DEATH AND ESCAPE
NEAR MISSES AND SWIPES OF CLAW AND PAW
FORM SCARES AND MARES ON THEIR THICK HIDE
WAVES OF FEIRCE RESISTANCE RISE AGAINST THE TEMPESTUOUS TIDE
Bombardment of bodies against that tawny terror.
Horns heave, shove, push, and move.
The earth beneath them quakes, shifts, and trembles under hooves.
However determination of suffocating and straggling terror.
Grips, bites, and holds.
The ranks brake and scatter, did there effort even matter.
No one knows, which way the battle would go.
The battles have been decisive,
Now the law of tooth and claw,
It has been written, sealed, and decided.
Categories:
musters, adventure, journey, nature, travel,
Form:
Blank verse
He is the one who walks upon it.
Hallowed...from the sacrifice that passed it on.
Home...from infant life that still reposes
in the body. There, it will entreat
with that fair eloquence the body politic
employs--all torn from old nobility
that blood bears in its stream, enriched
from fragments that the heart
has stored away--the jagged memories,
the tears of those we loved,
the bells that sang from towers
still remembered as the years sink down.
It resurrects the dead, this fatherland
that cries for loyalty; its cunning
tries the patient, trips up the ingenue
who sees what is supposed to be
and not what is. It fosters bravery
and blindness, soars upon the winds
of rhetoric, and casts its stones
with khaki kindness at a world
that interferes.
God bless the citizen who follows
on the highway where the marchers
said goodbye, took up their arms,
and faded in the far-off sky. God bless
his vision of returning...bless the faith
he musters for the heroes nigh
at that far turn ahead,
still washed in that pale emptiness
disclosed across the evening sun.
He is the watcher, still,
who hears the bells, and hums along
expectantly...
He is the blessed one.
~
Categories:
musters, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
My rhymes are timeless while this time is lifeless
why is life this kind less, reminds me that this
mind is spineless ready to tip and quit, as
my lies become mindless and get swollen shut
and Stuck up inside my sinus
Drivin in my prime but with no optimus
Victim to the flip-side of the Midas
Running through my blood like a virus
The sun makes my skin mundane
rubbin on ben gay but get arthritis
touch spermicide and converts to hepatitis
I hit the plus sign but it just musters up a minus
I'm seen sucking my thumb like the peanut's Linus
I run and duck when I hear the sirens cause
I abducted the president's Nike air pumps
now air force one is trying to find us
I'm at my desk obsessin about success but
This whole time its been right behind us
Categories:
musters, angst, childhood, confusion, depression,
Form:
Lyric
PHILISTINISM…
Shysters set up gallows must for self..
Musters dominate china red dominatrix.
AS works had been done, all that did the jobs could well to eliminate cause by their poles and forces as that keep are to be too much to control.
Specious words are open debated.
Quibble shy is law that reddish all as china faces that shy.
Does nothing shy but care for many too and many shy.
Nasty nice is catchy wises.
Narrow senses are wealth and places or money ranks and up-boost as places.
Narrow nationalism all is militant.
Empty soap boxes have bubble sorts for political stages.
Some elements sink but some elements up as bubbled sentiments.
All are militancy comes with china tyrants heresy cults or clique.
Evil china so call as utopia all are commie pure as purest.
However philistine arts are wealth that could hire a flat of shyster office to work for them.
Philistinism life are must are wealth are life for keeping good.
Twenty-twenty grades of eyes that naked are peeking.
At lease your eyes sight have good light conventions because you are rich and good to cure.
Philomels sing pretty songs.
Very acute are sinful men that can be decreed for special pardons.
They are hennery fox or YELL KA GUN and some other.
Hennery Fox get the laws annexed and approval by china government for smuggling at British time around HONG KONG and china.
YELL KA GUN is pardon but pledge guilty but get the pardon from queen cause by so call very sick health conditions.
He said to court that he is dying however more than ten years from that he is still living in able ways.
------------Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3-----------
Categories:
musters, abuse, , cute,
Form:
ABC
The Yankee rancher still blusters
in a drawl he barely musters
launching holy wars
while behind locked doors
he would give more head than Custer.
Categories:
musters, funny, political
Form:
Limerick
He walks the moonlit moor,
With eyes all aglow,
Hunting down his next victim,
Bringing death unto us all.
His ears are perked up,
Listening to the sounds,
That fill the night sky,
From the bats to faint footsteps,
And horses neighing in the distance.
He makes his way through the woods,
Seeing the faint lights of the streetlamps,
Showering light upon a figure,
Huddled beneath it's glow.
He licks his lips,
Tasting the fresh blood that will soon,
Fill his slathering jaws,
The tender flesh tearing in his teeth,
The high shrill screams echoing into the night,
That will end in bitter silence.
Moving through the woods,
Keeping his eyes plastered to the figure,
Knowing if he looks away for a moment,
His victim may flee without a warning,
And thus he may be vulnerable to the hunter.
For aeons he's wandered the world,
From Japan to the Polynesian Islands,
And now the US is where he resides,
Feasting on the aristocratic flesh,
Of prominent families.
He stops at the edge,
Turning his head,
Looking for any that may stop him.
Nothing but the figure seems to haunt the night,
Beneath the fading streetlight.
Thrusting himself out, he runs,
Forcefully through the thickened night,
Towards the careless human,
Claws stretched out before him,
With blood-lust burning within his eyes.
Suddenly he stops and lunges,
Landing on top of the person,
And begins ripping at their throat,
Realizing there is no blood,
Is when he feels a sharp pain in his side,
And drops to the ground.
His yellow eyes look about,
And see a figure in the dark,
Smoke fills the air around it,
It's the hunter he fears,
He tries to scramble to his feet,
But is brought down by another piercing pain.
The figure moves closer,
A barrel of a gun comes sliding into the light,
Followed by the figure wearing dark clothes,
Walking slowly through the night,
Gun pointing down at the beast,
That lay wounded before him.
He musters up enough strength,
To lift his heavy body,
And tries to lunge,
Bang!!!
Is the last thing his ears register.
Categories:
musters, death, fantasy, imagination, may,
Form: