With this demand you
hoped to evoke
in me the fear that
made even your bones
cold from exposer
frail and bitter the sound
they made as they
rattled around at the knees.
But You can not own even
this for the words
were not yours to speak of
dissolution and disparities.
and still you uttered
such falsehoods
an attempt to hurt and mam.
That even one gasp
made even the busiest
of turns stop and
take notice of the world
you painted
with a promiscuous brush.
I stood naked unafraid, unwitting
is your portrait of our marriage
beyond the pale is your divorce.
Whose words these are I think I know
She has never spoken to me, though
She won't see me pick her letter
And watch her words make me glow
My friends must think I'm weird
Seeing me smile broad and clear
In the middle of my work
The busiest day of the year
They see my foolish grin
And wonder where my head has been
“What’s wrong?” they ask, their laughter loud
Not knowing my heart’s quiet within
They give my head a good shake
And ask me what I did intake
They don't hear my pounding heart
Neither see the dreams I baked
These words are lovely warm and deep
But the name on the letter is not mine to keep
And her's a secret I must keep
No tears anymore when I try to weep
No stars to guide me when the darkness creeps
It was Santa’s busiest night
And nothing was going quite right.
The sleigh, well past it’s best,
Had just failed its flight test
And Rudolph’s red nose had turned white.
Global warming had melted the snow;
A hurricane started to blow.
Santa’s throat was red raw
And felt terribly sore.
He could barely whisper “Ho ho”
He declared a gift embargo;
The elves unloaded his cargo.
Then, on-line from his bed,
He sent vouchers instead,
All delivered by Wells Fargo
He's the classic busiest bummed bee,
Work members close enough not to swallow,
Some business pursues far from his body,
Their thoughts cease, naught his, she always, follow.
She soar the skies as her duty's promise,
Perpetuity o'er her trusting beau,
White feathers sure faith like St. Thomas,
Stinger pleased tradeoff for wings, ... love to ... grow.
Since their first meet, a love story is told,
Distant and flighty, not really quite so,
Sweetest start, bitter end, somber bells tolled,
Never dare edit just best left to glow.
Romantic readers love its status quo,
Shakespeare best, “Juliet and Romeo.”
Freeze and behold the glorious Tiger!
Don't dare stare down the Tiger.
Watch out! His predatory soul is burning
Look, his eyes are bright.
Silent. Still. He'll draw you in.
His glowing glare and sudden growl puts the
Strongest prey on edge. Chasing them into forests
Where his secret dens of
Family are. He rests in the
Busiest times of the day. But during the night;
Do you know what
His habits are? His immortal
Instincts set in. When conservationists set their hand
To cameras they capture the Tiger in action or
Sleeping. But always something to catch one's eye.
How on earth else could
We safely observe? How much to learn by frame.
Oh yes, dear nameless Tiger, thy
May be beautiful, mighty, fearful
And what could compare to your symmetry?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Tiger Tiger, burning bright,
in the forests of the
night; what immortal hand or eye,
could frame thy fearful symmetry?"
~~ William Blake~~
She is an image of grim loneliness,
Her gloomy withdrawn countenance
struck me in the middle of a joyful gathering…
A shroud of melancholy surrounded her
face like a black veil!
a wedding celebration going on, plenty of
wine, food, cakes…pounding, throbbing music,
beautiful bride in white dress,
crowd brimming with happiness!
Is depression taking over her?!
wistful memories of her youth
drowning her feelings with inexplicable grief!
Does she remember the promise of
a young man in his twenties, strong
and handsome…who never came back!
Fire, cries, screams,
In the centre of the busiest city,
The tall concrete buildings were crumbling down
like dominoes, a few lives trapped in the inferno ..
that’s the only picture she can see in her head!
She never saw that beaming face again!
Even in a rapturous crowd, her mind is vacant!
Ants, busiest insects in the world
Never tease them or mess with them
The more they like you, the more they'll bite you
Strange, never go extinct
Isn’t it strange time waits for no man…
Yet some find ways through Him to help
them take a stand.
Such as even in the busiest part of my day…
He comes to me and tells me the words
to write and gives me a message to relay.
To show that each minute that passes is as
important as another…
And with this God given time we are to love and care for each other.
That only through Him our time unfor-
tunately comes to an end you see…
His plan is not unimportant or insign-
ificant to you and me.
So, use your time brooding over your
past or make amends…
And you may find that time hasn’t done
away with all your friends.
Are there lazy guys in The White House?
Let’s pick your loudest ‘’ Yes’’ or ‘’No’’
And could they World Peace Moves a bit douse
I would wait for a ‘’ Speak on’’ or ‘’ Go.’’
For the first, Russians could one serve ‘’ Yes,’’
For the second ‘’Simply forget it;’’
From North Korea ‘’ Madness to just guess,’’
For the second, Moods worse than Snake Pit;
Israel could suspect You, and Question
Like the Pharisee did the Christian;
To Terrorists ‘’ You’ve got just The Time,’
As they keep searching for bombs to time!
Terrorists would Peace steal like a mouse
But US Gun Laws don’t make it grow;
If laze around Interns White House
The Preventable like Rivers flow!
I gathered: owns Busiest Tables
Along tagging with Smartest Cables:
Then each has signed for schedules quite tight;
To dither about could never be right…
Hellganya was the busiest young witch I have ever seen.
She knew what she wanted and went after it with guff.
I will borrow bark from the McDoogles and the McClean.
I watched her travel from house to house borrowing stuff.
If it is borrowing, will you be bringing it back? I asked her.
She laughed at my naivety and thumped me on the head.
Like I would return this snake and that mangy cur.
I was entranced by her confidence, which was well fed.
Come on Cat she yelled to her sidekick, we’ve got a potion to brew.
Of course, I knew that it was stealing – borrowing it was not,
But I went along for I have wanted the recipe for her magic stew.
So with cat dog and snake we rode away to her magic pot spot.
“God is the busiest worker, always fulfilling His roles 24-7.”
Pastor Ed M. Laurena
God* does care for us 24-7
Indeed constant; still true this new normal
Surpassing all friends---bonded together
Affirming “I love you, three times a day”
With their well-meaning, “Take care coz I care.”
God is cheering us 24-7
By reminders from His Word, the Scriptures
Propelling our steps midst varied slogans
Expressing “Just do it,”** or asserting
“Never ever, never ever give up.”***
God is on His throne 24-7
Reigning graciously with omnipotence
Granting eternal life to believers
Transcending the “good life you can afford”****
Sans return of investment’s assurance.
*1Timothy 1:17 Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honour and glory for ever and ever. Amen.
**Just Do It is a trademark of shoe company Nike.
***Slogan of Personal Collection Company Dealers
****ShopWise Grocery Promotion
February 6, 2022
1st place, "BUZZWORDS" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues; judged on 3/9/2022.
A vital piece of information
Released with some change in intonation
By an Eve never known for variation,
Now in some measure flabby:
The handiwork of your planted baby!
Even the busiest guy sure to stand still
The never-ably-shown by actors with skill,
An upper cut men not ready for the story:
For the Don Juan seeking some other glory!
“How dare you say “You’re carrying my baby:
Where had we met for it, at which lobby?”
The ecstatically received by dreamers of it,
The low-sperm counts procreatively unfit:
The quickest embrace of a woman for rushed kisses,
One or two breakable property in accidental pieces…
The liable-to-kick-start a shot-gun wedding,
In bridal dress a woman one had been bedding;
In The West, lawyers for a paternity suit
Against the guy distancing his fruit.
Retired and happy as a piggy in poop
Poetry is definitely the cause
Without all my friends I've come to know
Known as dear old Santa Claus
My favourite and busiest time of the year
Is less than a month away
Visiting you guys and your little kiddies
Spreading joy on Christmas day
Happy as a piggy in poop is not usually
Associated with Santa and stuff
But this Santa is a down to earth kinda Santa
A little warmer he'd come in the buff
Hope no kiddies are reading this poem
Might destroy their image of me
Now you know why Santa's really so happy
Smokes up and is happy as can be
They are raging with excitement; one is twerking. I ignore it.
Their voices are increasing in volume now, it is the weekend.
Enthusiasm keeps their spirits high; they are thrilled it is Friday.
Higher and higher their voices sing the joyful Friday afternoon song.
So many sounds from twenty-four excited fifth-graders.
Borderline shrieking; it is amazing to hear. I watch, thinking.
Future novelists are silent, organizing books in their heads.
Future screenwriters and poets are creating scenes in their minds.
The busiest ones are not the loudest and proudest.
They are not the ones twerking and shrieking.
They are the ones listening silently,
Studying and learning what human nature looks like.
Sometimes it’s hard
being a poet
Writing your lines
on the busiest day
Spilling your thoughts
on the page as you know it
Even those days
you’ve got nothing to say
Words are just words
I heard somebody saying
I don’t agree
when they come in this style
Poetic words that
a poets’ displaying
Often bring tears
but they often bring smiles
There in their mind
where these ideas flourish
So many things can
come into their view
Ideas grow out of
moments to cherish
Those who might need
something wonderfully new
Wandering lines
in an unending ramble
Stirred in a pot,
spun around in a swirl
Or like an egg that
each morning you scramble
Sunnyside up for
a boy and a girl
Still we will write as
our world comes a’ crashing
Rubble and bricks
fall headfirst to the ground
Mayhem and madness
our smiles are slashing
When all is lost
and no hope can be found
Yes, sometimes it’s hard
being a poet
But in the end
it is what we must do
Taking these scenes
to a friend now to show it
Especially when I find
that friend is you
Related Poems