Hassles Poems

Inner Self

                                                  Inner Self

                                                  Inner self 
                                                   For ever
                                                   Is my elf

                                                   Everyday
                                                    I meet it
                                                  On the way

                                                  It leads me
                                                 To right path
                                                  Hassles free

Summer

Fireflies at night. 
Are busy. 
They light up with attitude. 
And land on my shoulder unexpectedly. 

In the summer. 
Cars going by sound crisp as they sweep through town. 
My head is unmuffled. 
And my hands are free of those gloves. 

Winter hassles. 
Like clearing the driveway. 
My voice is raspy from the cold air and sicknesses. 
Winter boots would get muddy over and over. 

In the summer. 
Fireflies light up to make us feel excited. 
As one lands on my glass of iced tea. 
Reminding me to fill the glass again. 

I know that this lake will freeze again. 
And soon, we’ll forget about the flowers.
Nothing exists in the winter. 
Except hot tea and hot coffee. 

One of the last fireflies of the season. 
He dropped by and told me that it was almost September. 
Then, he flew so high up, I lost sight of him. 
One of summer’s last magic tricks.

The lake froze. 
My hands almost did, but I got mittens on in time. 
I have blankets and coats in my car. 
My car starts up harshly and loudly in the winter. 

Fireflies at night. 
Every summer. 
They say things and dazzle us. 
And they will next year too.

Hair Composition

Her hair dances like the cascading stream, 
murmuring in the silence of dormant dreams.
It’s more than an element of graceful façade,
the curls carry a crown of style adornment.

The onyx hair cataracts elegance untamed, 
swirls in the stream of longing squall 
on the ivory template of her forehead,
engraves the contours of her charisma.

As the melting clouds drizzle on her,
luster flows on the shining strands of ebony,
rave rapture drenches her with surreal hue,
pristine pearls glide with the rhythm of symphony.

A bun flows with fluid finesse and engrossing charm,
a bob helps handle the workplace hassles with ease,
a pixie cut boldly highlights the facial features,
a braded motif plaits the strands of beauty secrets. 

Whether worn long or short, curled or colored,
the hair composition isn’t just a fashion narrative.
It’s a powerful symbol of identity and self-expression,
a reflection of the persona statement of who she is.

Seventy Plus

Seventy Plus

Have been retired for 7 years
The best parts:
no work hassles
more time to write poetry
more time to play music
more time to work on my project list
(of course, AFTER the honey do list)
more time to volunteer
more time for naps
I can sit around in sweats and tee shirt
(in summer shorts and tee shirt)

But
The worst parts:
insomnia
not as much energy
in bed by 9PM
(I am a party pooper)
need hearing aids
my joints ache
have trouble remembering names
takes me longer to do my projects
(good excuse for not completing honey do list)

These are the best of times and the worst of times
If I can remember what the past times were like!

In search of sympathy

All have hassles their own, 
All with own fate upset, 
With whom to pour my heart?
Under roof-- one common 
All suffer self-sown fate, 
With whom to pour my heart?

Sad tales, not so unknown, 
They all seem to narrate, 
With whom to pour my heart?
No one is left alone 
If we search, sort, ferret, 
With whom to pour my heart?  

Blares every gramophone,
Each all so aloud set, 
With whom to pour my heart?
All have a chewing bone 
Their own, and no free date, 
With whom to pour my heart?

O to wait for that dawn 
Where world is not jet set
To pour my bleeding heart.
Till then I’ve to just frown 
And endure,  my teeth grate, 
Till I’ve souls to pour heart.

All people tend to moan 
It’s this nature I hate-- 
Too ready to pour heart.  
With all in such zone 
That keeps an ajar gate 
To cry, where I my heart?
____________________
Ghazal |16.02.2025| sympathy, heart    
Note: The six lines of each stanza here in essence make only a couplet--just two lines. There are two rhymes and two refrains.

Scapegoat

Punished for nothing and sacrificed
For the sake of its murderers vanity
They victimized you to satisfy
Their own uplifting insanity
What was the subliminal god's reaction?
Seems he wasn’t too pleased with that
So quoting Mick Jagger, no satisfaction
Has appeared as a matter of fact
Mortal sins have exceeded all expectations
The worst get unlimited power
The wise have diluted in million variations
Their wisdom, to build more glass towers
The poor peaceful animal is unremembered
Under hassles and troubles of things
Kindness of the humble ones has been slandered
Evil thrive on the order it brings 
What now, how about satisfaction
Where’s that god, is he not far around?
Pandora is setting up box production
And that scapegoat still falls on the ground.

With Kids in Tow

A Broadway show, with kids in tow,
Is challenging, for sure.
You must prepare for getting there,
With hassles to endure.

The car’s a pain, yet bus or train
May cause you some delays;
Then every street, on tired feet,
Seems like you’re in a maze.

And then the wait, which children hate,
When hunger hits, or thirst;
You buy some snacks, but can’t relax,
For bladders might just burst.

The bathroom line, with poor design,
Means that the world expects
That kids must learn to wait their turn;
We tell them, “Almost next!”

The dimming lights, at last, ignites
Excitement from the crowd.
The music blares and some it scares
For it is just so LOUD!

With luck you last, applaud the cast
And head home with a smile,
But hope your crew won’t ask that you
Repeat this for a while.

You would not know, but

You would never know me,
But a theme you were of my dream,
Filled by love to the brim,
Unfulfilled that withered like cream.

You would never know me,
Nor my rose petals in your book
I chanced to have a look,
Loveless that dried up, a lost brook.

You would never know me,
Who once came, buds as to blossom,
Unwelcome who had come,
Who could not but keep utter mum.

You would never know me,
Who came to build castles in fort,
Who just hassles did court
A racehorse who had fallen short.

You would never know me
That famine-like when you had felt,
On prayer who had knelt,
And rain clouds had loosened their belt.

You would never know me,
Nor ever remember, for whom
You had in heart no room,
Who was swept aside with a broom.

You would never know me,
Who once shed for you copious tears,
But returned reverse gears,
To go far from you like lost years.  
__________________________________
Reminiscing |17.02.2024|love

Rain and Snow

A snowstorm was predicted
But the city just got rain,
Although, at first, some snowflakes
Landed on each window pane.

They disappeared in seconds
But just thirty miles away,
My son had several inches,
Perfect for some snowball play.

My grandkids did some sledding
And were thrilled to have the chance
To coast down hills within their park’s
Fresh snow-covered expanse.

I didn’t miss the hassles – 
Digging out the car and such,
But I’m glad the suburbs had a taste
Of Jack Frost’s snowy touch.

Bed In a Box

A new hybrid mattress bed in a box,
reputed for great comfort that rocks.
Just simply order one online today,
and in no time, you’ll be dreaming away.

I decided to order the new boxed bed,
delivery is quick with no hassles ahead.
My new bed was delivered the next night,
the box was heavy and did not seem right.

We dragged the new mattress up to our room,
unwrapped the plastic and watched it bloom.
It started to inflate before we cut it all free,
and quickly placed it where it needed to be.
 
I gasped as I saw a dead beetle on the bed,
I started to feel scared and full of dread.
I used a flashlight to closely check it all over,
and found a tiny dead bug stuck to the cover.

My hubby came running as I crazily shout,
and said, “get that infested thing out”!
We then threw our new mattress out the front door,
and spent hours cleaning the box spring and floor.

I now can’t sleep well, worried of biting pests,
every night I complete the flashlight tests.
I check my old mattress, box spring and rug,
and hope and pray not to spot a bed bug.

In the Midst of the Deep Sea

Written 27 July 2023



                                     In the Midst of the Deep Sea

                               Lost was I in the midst of the deep sea
                                    On a meek and modest sailboat; 

                              I prayed to the Lord with a sincere plea
                              To guide me reach the land hassles-free

                                     On the bank of a sheltered lee,
                                       Allowing the sailboat to float.

                                 Lost was I in the midst of the deep sea
                                     On a meek and modest sailboat.

Music of Life

Let the music of life not be dead.

Acceptance makes all hassles minute.

Anticipate only good and go ahead.

Let the music of life not be dead.

Anger annihilates; fill the heart with love instead.

Insight can make everything cute.

Let the music of life not be dead.

Acceptance makes all hassles minute.


place : 5

Thunderous Applause

This site is da bomb my haven so to speak
It's where I go to mellow out
Away from the ugly news of the day
That we constantly hear about

Without this site my life would be boring
I'd walk around mumbling away
Oblivious to the big old world passing by
Whatta great way to start the day

So many great people call P-Soup their home
Scattered throughout this big planet
Personalities as varied as the fish in the ocean
So many they run the damn gamut

From witty, to clever intellectual or romantic
We all call it home sweet home
A retreat a getaway from all of life's hassles
A place to let our true hearts roam

So let's hear some of that thunderous applause
Because here's the inside scoop
All of us would probably fade into oblivion
Instead we're just happy as poop

A Thing With No Name

A THING WITH NO NAME

Within this picture which bears no name, I see a loving mother crying with shame.
Nine months ago she thought, “It’s an inconvenience to carry this thing with no name. Abortion is simple, the hassles are less, I won’t think of myself nonetheless.”
But as the days went by and her body changed she learned to accept and love this thing with no name.
As the time grew near and she looked back, she began to cry because of shame. My God! My God! What I almost had done was murder my child, my firstborn son.
She thought to herself, “I am to blame, how could I have called him a thing with no name?” Forgive me my Lord, and create within me a mother’s heart as you intended to be.
I love my child so soft and so frail, how good it feels to hold him close without fail.
The sweetness of his breath, and his dependence on me, how warm and tender is my baby to me.
P.R. Carberry

Grow Uniqueness With Passing Moment

In the twinkle of an eye, time wanders
With past memories of awesome delight
When fun buries all hassles mind ponders
To ease pressure on heart's peace filming plight

Live to prosper in all your endeavours
To be at peace with  everyone else grace
Getting doors opened with various levers
While growing muscles to cover up trace 

I pray your long days destined be lengthen
I pray you live the best to wish for such
In another life if grace been strengthen
Such is an awesome heavenly great touch

That last through laughter cum fun-filled moment
Birthday references in cool merriment

• Short Hassles Poems
• Famous Hassles Poems
• Best Hassles Poems
• Read Hassles Poems
• Long Hassles Poems
• Hassles Quotes