Long Hassles Poems
Long Hassles Poems. Below are the most popular long Hassles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hassles poems by poem length and keyword.
Recalling "crushes" I admire during teen-age time
Makes me chuckle with heart-beat's chime
Remembering responses of denial-rhyme...
Now, I confess my puerile grime.
Decades ago, a lad with his unique fad made me glad
As his boyish grin resembled that of my Dad
His constant cheerful countenance exclaimed he’s not mad, not sad
Since despite low grades, he seemed not to feel bad.
Another guy likewise won my favor
He was a college classmate showing faith-fervor
Asserting Scriptures with truth’s savor
Revealing his taste of godly flavor.
As a lady of “conservative” virtue
Enclosed within social-cultural taboo
On “dating” I was innocent of the “approved” clue
As I acknowledged God’s wise view.
So, when I received love-epistles
From suitors with affection whistles
I let my parents read them against “studies first” bustles
For I trusted them in my youth feelings’ hassles.
Thus, midst teen-age delightful relationships
I’m grateful for pleasant wholesome friendships
Functional toward great adult partnerships
Engaged in great, good and godly fellowships*.
*1John 1:7 “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.”
February 2, 2019
2nd place, "School time crush" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Faraz Ajmal; judged on 3/9/2019.
7/16/2014
An adventure I went
on
Full of laughter,
cheer and fun
A country themed day
that I will
Talk about, secrets
wont spill
First dressing like
cowgirls do
Tight fitting jeans
baby blue
Next a shirt with
hanging tassels
Snaps, not buttons,
prevent hassles
A belt buckle so
cute and shiny
Not big, a little
less tiny
A cowgirl hat on top
my head
No brown, pretty
pink instead
Special ordered
boots to wear
Fringe and spurs put
on with care
All decked out to
have a night
That will be a pure
delight
My first country
club experience
Filled with care
free innocence
Music gets my feet a
tappin'
Not knowing how this
just happened
Somehow over the
course of time
I was in a dancing
line
Not drunk, but
losing all my
balance
I was doing moves so
freelance
Soon I was sitting
on a bull
Hanging on tightly
up until
Someone cranked it
up to high
I shot off into the
sky
My singing is way to
scary
To do any karaoke
Now I'm on stage out
of tune
Surprised I haven't
cleared the room
Hours go by and I
find
I can not leave this
behind
Making a promise to
come back
Everybody loved my
act
Of a first timer at
this place
I never left a
single trace
My secret is safe of
course
That I am really a
HORSE
Memories of my childhood often resurface,
from the deep trenches of my mind and,
a soul lost in the waves of day-to-day hassles,
finds itself risen up to the realm of rejoice.
Those summer vacations in my native place,
memorable moments of month-long holidays,
carefree days with nothing but play
with cousin sisters and cousin brothers.
The long walks through the rice fields
and the vast unfenced lush green pastures,
that led to my paternal uncle's house,
that sits in the midst of greenery,
holding hands following one after the other,
with gleeful giggles and cheerful chuckles.
A small stream to be crossed in midway,
that had a shaky wooden bridge,
my brothers and sisters crossed with ease,
I got stuck in the middle of that bridge,
my tiny legs refused to move further in fear,
when my eldest brother lent his hand,
to help me cross that narrow bridge.
These are just a few moments,
of those recollections sweet I savour.
They help refresh my mind and raise my spirit,
and in its warmth, I re-live my childhood.
Original Date: 12/09/2020
Originally Submitted for: Story From Your Childhood Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Now Submitted for: Podium Placing Promise (7) Poetry Contest
Date: 01/12/2021
Sponsor: Brian Strand
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.
I’m stealing through a twilit realm, the ancient pale of Whereis,
passing chambers of an Heiress
(though no need to feel embarrassed)
through a magic mystic mirror hanging curtainless.
A glimpse near naked alleyways (denuded by the moon) ex-
poses Ghosts in gauzy tunics
carving symbols, round and runic,
in distended dingy dungeons of uncertainness.
Down misty streets of cobblestone – ancestral avenues –
patchwork paths consume my shoes
(chasing foggy curlicues
twisting, twirling by in twos,
floating anywhere they choose),
leaving footprints that confuse
vagrant wispy retinues
of the threaded wooden sticks that stalk a Puppet wandering.
Condensed in drops of fantasy, distilled in evening dew,
shifting Shadows I pursue
(wearing faces I once knew,
slipping slowly from my view)
turn their backs to bid adieu
leaving stars to tempt me through
Awful Tower residues
mocking treasures time outgrew
in the birth of old from new
framing pageants in review
midst the visions of the painted past I can’t help pondering.
Contorted candelabra claw the skyline’s walled suspension
caught in twilight’s intervention
– still unlit (in stark dissension),
therefore seething with a tension
in the quiet apprehension
of the Watchman’s inattention
to the night-time’s bold pretension
to her power, not to mention,
to her hyperspace extension
(far beyond my comprehension
of the sundown’s bleak dimension) –
on exhausted beaten boulevards of foolish fretfulness.
Oblivion depletes me, voiding haste and hurried hassles,
me, a simple abject vassal,
trailing moonlit floating castles,
– fickle feet, but fingers facile
grasping straws and pendant tassels –
as I stumble through the rubble of forgetfulness.
I think I must be dreaming as I seem to see these things,
neath a sky alive with wings
(hear the Nightingale, she sings),
midst the whispered murmurings
soughed by Phantoms clad as Kings
pacing palaces in rings,
while their hapless footfall clings
to the sagging sinking sands of midnight’s splintered splattered ruins.
Entangled in the swirling leaves that spin in dizzy flurries,
(while the wind beside me scurries
as an ermined hermit hurries)
lurk my sleepy woes and worries
(glowing faint’ but growing blurry)
which, when plundered by the demon dusk, I’d left behind me strewn.
Continued in Part 2
We're not all Hollywood hunks much as we'd like to think
Some of us are simple down to earth dudes
With simple needs and desires, walking around in a daze
In a “wonder what the hell happened” mood
Before you can say “Oshkosh Begosh” you're muttering
“Has anyone here seen my damn uppers”?
Basically you're on the last lap, the end's closing in fast
Soon you'll be enjoying your last supper
But be of good spirits, even the most powerful succumb
Be happy with the contribution you've made
Then be of good heart and thankful for a life well lived
Keep smiling, you're still going poops without aid
We're not all Hollywood hunks in this big old world
Some of us are down to earth simple poopers
Satisfied getting through with only a few minor hassles
But we can always be joyous happy troupers
Midst homemaking blitz
meditation vibrancy invites
wondrous soul-searching pursuit
cheering heart with empowerment glow
while engaging in blest worship to the Sovereign…
Encountering varied hassles in household chores
body now succumbs to alerting fatigue attacks
challenging functional relaxation-fulness
thus, here am I willingly yielding
grateful for restful bliss…
Radiant serenity awaits
welcoming work with its prize
precious yon daily salary’s worth
as well-being admits that health is wealth
balancing pressure vis-a-vis pleasure mirth…
Beholding triumphs marked by responsible diligence
my devotional commitment does find strength
along mindfulness through faith-fortitude
enjoying spiritual freedom to reach-out
testifying love of the Saviour...
Thus, I strive to linger in my haven of restfulness
offered with divine victory*, vanquishing boredom
basking for heavenly flight inside prayer fortress
around jubilant fellowship, bound by gracious tie
amidst celestial radiance of exuberant quietude.
*1 Corinthians 15:57 But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
2nd place, "Seijaku" Free Verse Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 8/24/2024
The weather's cold and rainy but there's joy in my heart
It all comes down to my psyche
If you will it to be, things will always wind up happy
No matter how you feel, by crikey
Time heals everything, trust me I'm old with experience
Been down the road mucho times
My advice to youse guys pull yourselves together
And everything will turn out fine
Laughingly, you're probably all saying to yourselves
This funny guy has no freaking idea
What REAL life and its many hassles do involve
Trust me, sometimes feels like diarrhea
So next time a close friend asks you for some advice
Send em here, don't mind lending a hand
That's why I exist, to help out my fellow humans
To a better future in life's FUTURELAND!
To die an old man, tasks left on slow burn,
And as fake coins do, get reborn ‘pon earth;
Work harder still, more mileage points to earn,
Which, heaven calls goodly deeds well their worth,
To repeat none of careless omissions,
Careful avoiding sinful commissions,
Grow up again and relearn things ere learnt,
Suffer old age again, same helplessness,
Begin and end with diapers no less,
Same hassles of life, oh what a huge stunt!
And yet, there are welcome blessings to fore:
Mother's love— not else in life be so good,
Worth returning to earth often and more,
Another, innocence of the childhood,
And its older version— second childhood,
For small joys, pleasures, life's trinkets so rife,
And that hard lesson learnt in adulthood
That true joys come from trivial things of life.
For sure, this journey of life has odd rules,
Where humans are handed worse punishment—
Being treated no better than draught mules
That must learn things learnt ere— in chastisement,
The karmic fate— there's no meaner kill-joy,
But is not life God's play-act to enjoy?
And still I'd feel, life comes with mixed blessings,
Like coins it comes with two sides: joy and strife,
One may call it tyranny of this life,
Of destiny that in a dual voice sings.
And poor man, whether he likes it or not,
Must empty ere refill his karmic pot!
And still, I love you O life, fall or spring,
I like this journey, pray keep me calling. ……
____________________________________________
Musings | 03.07.16 | Ode
Poet’s note: This first part of the Ode starts with ten lines in the first stanza. Every stanza progressively loses two lines, ending with a pair of couplets. For, each lifespan is supposed to reduce the journey of evolution that ends with Liberation. But as this poem seems in love with life, it continues and carries on.
"In my fragile little ship, I sail, sail
In the tempestuous sea of life
Dodging life's pressures, to doldrums outlast"~ by poet
Breathing in and out the notes of life,
from first cry to last sigh, you sing
you sing.... unbeknownst
unbeknownst to you as to
what tunes and notes of life
you will be singing..
but you keep singing... taking cues
taking cues from the
rhythm of the twirl of time.
As you warble to the ticking of time
sometimes...
a melody is created
and the moment becomes lovely -
when your hum is harmonious to
the rhythm, tempo, and dynamics of life.
Listening to that melody - so sweet,
buds of love and peace bloom straightaway
in vibrant colours
to savour and celebrate
the beautiful moment:
a moment as beautiful
as the sweet smile of a child
and as peaceful as the
stillness of a meditation hall.
At times, your voice cracks
you sing outside the range
hitting the wrong note...
and.........oh........
you slip down the stairs
the last step extending down to
the hassles and hard times of life...
like a banana peel
in an already slippery road,
like a dust in the eye
that blurs your vision,
like that of a Wordle game
that leaves you totally clueless.
Such wrong notes
in your song of life
leave you in dismay
like a torn page in a book:
you get dejected, dispirited, and disheartened
and a confused state of mind follows.
But you know you should not stop
you need to ignore the wrong note you struck
not a wince, blink or a pause..
you have to just move
on and on...
and get your mojo back
to continue carolling
the rest of your notes of life
in accordance to the
rhythm of time...
Date: 02/24/2022
'F' form - Free verse - New - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme Chosen: Life
First Place
Poem Of The Day on 02/24/2022