Busies Poems - Poems about Busies

...rumors of war as she busies herself with morning things And you will hear of wars and threats of wars, but don’t panic. Yes, these things must take place, but the end won’t follow immediat......

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... Dementia By: Miracle Man 5/1/2023 The scent of recall of times long past, Uncovers many years of hidden hurt. However, hinder years, can’t be recast, life can’t be washed like a di......

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...The missus served me high test coffee... Ah... tis nothing more heavenly (to one borne again devout atheist) then a spring like January 18th, 2023 here at Highland Manor apartments picturesqu......

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...Naomi has seen this sight many times before She knows Mrs. Bee will be gone in two days If not before She makes her as comfortable as she can The doctor comes in; he takes the lady’s hand Att......

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...Hedwig Her house, a memory lane of sacred spaces: the cobwebbed attic travel trunks, high heeled shoes, pink taffeta gowns, skirts that open into spinning parasols, cool musty wine cellar......

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...Down Under when one can not sleep One busies one's self counting sheep Snooze you lose Ewes your muse Aussie poets are now knee-deep......

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...The missus brings me high test coffee... A cold wintry January 53rd, 2021 at Highland Manor apartments picturesque snow covered landscape safely ensconced within Unit B44, we (yours truly and ......

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...splashing. sunshine. etched glasses with paint in mind - water goo. rose reds and blueberry blues. as if handling a ginormous flatscreen, the canvas placed. splash...splash...splash li......

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...Only when yours truly busies himself... Feigning to emulate NON GMO garden variety English major oh just so ho-hum, this ousted son and cingular bro biological byproduct of papa's yoyo after......

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... A fly dances On a blooming flower. A bee buzzes along Busies itself digging for nectar, The fly dashes, dances on the petal. When done the bee flies away. Unhindered the fly digs for n......

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......inspired by 'Cul-De-Sac' by Allen Tate The golden sheen had turned to rust, the laughter to a pile of rags, the joy to ghostly lamentations, how the weighted second drags. Blind and deaf ......

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...They wait, deep down in the red earth, covered from the yellow, Wyoming sun, like Tom Horn, a while ago, but deeper than he, not the same, they wouldn’t kill for fun, and the bored army bus......

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...THE STORMY DAY Awoken by Rumbling in the Deep distance Shallow waters subside and Gliding across white wakes Makes for the sanctuary, A distant glimmer in the Heart of the storm bird. ......

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...The golden sheen has turned to rust, from Gucci to a garment bag, the joy to ghostly lamentations, how the weighted seconds drag. Blind and deaf to consecration, weak the beatings of the heart, ......

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...If you fight with fervent heart, roar of lion from your part, perhaps true kindness will impart the vengence of a Goddess staved, the moon now red with the noon's dead, in your heart I'm sure is ......

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