Long Hustle Poems
Long Hustle Poems. Below are the most popular long Hustle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hustle poems by poem length and keyword.
A squirrel who once was all-day hustle-run
discovered spring had hung a swing nearby.
He eyed it first as something strange and fun,
then hopped aboard to give the breeze a try.
The branches rocked him in a gentle arc,
a cradle made of sunlight, leaves, and ease.
He closed his eyes, forgetting he was stark
addicted to the rush of busy trees.
Soon all his twitchy habits slipped away~
the frantic stash, the darting here and there.
He let the swing decide the pace of the day,
a mellow rhythm floating through the air.
And now he’s learned what wiser creatures know:
Sometimes, you simply sway and let life slow.
As she walks down the subway,
Through the hustle and bustle of life,
She passes me by
Like a Johnny-head-in-the-air
Thinking of trivial matters
That occupy her day and night.
Hey you, my darling, I'm looking at you
Am I so insignificant
That you don't notice
I love you so?
As she walks in the meadow,
I see her in the wane moonlight
Smiling and dreaming
Of astral combinations,
Of capricious yearnings,
And romantic volitions.
Soon she approaches the silvery lake
Listens in sublimity
The faint ripples of the waves
As they kiss the lichen-lined shore.
As she walks through the lonely gate
I see her shiver with cold.
A north light breeze rattles the trees
Ruffles the dying leaves
That hang limp on maple trees.
I stand still, mesmerized by her beauty
Vow ever to be true
As I wait on the porch for her return.
As she walks up the winding path
She suddenly realizes I'm looking at her,
Smiling and hoping she'll finally be mine.
True to her feelings she strolls into my arms,
Embracing and hugging me,
Kissing and sighing and finally she's mine;
Definitely all mine.
Hustle of traffic
In red and green
With whirls of more motor horn and
The thrust radio in my car
All concealed and unfortunate but,
In fierce search of oasis
"why not play the recorder?"
That someone said
And felt the rain...
Tale of love abraded by rain
Tale of absence gore my veins
Tale of glimpse bygones stake my chest
And sounds of raining sings melancholia,
Glooms every joy we together savoured
Once alive,
And some ghosting nights...
And my mind full of abandoned tasks
Knock inside the glass of my car
Here's signals green.
I felt,
This vehemence of your desire
I am savouring,
Both unconsciously and unconditionally
Since shrouded you in the riot of 2008!
(Bombay songs, 1995 depicts as playing)
Twas the night before christmas
and Christ was left out,
with no peep of the Good News,
no mountainous shout.
Stockings were hung
by the chimney the same,
but no one made mention
of the Savior's name.
On this sacred night
there were still shopping plans.
Their heart was poured out
through money changers' hands.
'Twas the hustle and bustle
of past Christmas Eves.
Once deemed a holy night,
now a den of thieves.*
Folks went into debt
for the pleasure to give,
not counting the cross
and what it cost to forgive.
Presents were plenty.
Wish lists were fulfilled,
but they didn't thank God
for the blood that was spilled.
An "X" had replaced
the unspeakable name.
Christmas without Christ
was now one and the same.
'Twas the night before Christmas
and Christ was left out.
The townsfolk had forgotten
what Christmas was about.
Merry Christmas to all; let Christ become your light.
*Matthew 21:12-13
And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves."
12-2-19
Author Dana Redricks
December 8, 2015
Searching and wondering;
Where do I belong trying to
Make it in this world on my own.
This world is a big place.
Never feeling like I belonged;
Like a stranger in a strange land;
Just trying to fit in, and trying to
Take my place; lost in this
Of everyday hustle; looking forward
In going to my heavenly home;
No one was meant to be in this world
Alone; just wondering, and trying to
Get by; all while wondering what is my
Place; a broken heart is what I feel;
Going through this life without falling
Apart; Jesus is the glue that keeps me together.
Form:
How invigorating...
to be finally free after much
hustle and bustle of daily life!
As the world gets busy
disintegrating bit by bit,
you're someplace else;
far removed from it all;
away from all the stress,
the agitations, the disturbances;
in total harmony
with yourself, with nature;
you get to have a conversation with God.
You get to cherish time
and revisit an inferno
of long-forgotten memories,
Oh, to temporarily retire
to a quiet domesticity
with plenty of time...
to sleep, to relax, to attain
a much-needed peace of mind, to reflect
on what's truly important in life,
what a magnificent rarity!
If you have time to burn
by all means, get away from it all....
Date written: 02/14/2021
Up in smoke there goes your dreams and hopes in that cloud of smoke
There goes your memory the instrument you once used to create wise quotes
There goes the hustle you used to keep from being broke
Now here comes the stress high blood pressure the cause of strokes
Was it really worth it talking about that first toke
Yeah it made you laugh but was it really a joke
Is it funny having no money wishing for the sun cause you know it's supposed to be sunny
Why they call you a dummy
why life is crummy
So I ask again was it really worth it talking about that first toke were you inhaled and as you exhaled watched it go up in smoke I'm talking about your dreams and hopes
Sometimes life is such a bore we run on automatic;
Then it’s time to tango for a dash of the dramatic.
Or when things are dull and only gusto will suffice,
We cha-cha or calypso to inject a dose of spice.
We hustle off to work each morning, foxtrot through the day
And hope that time’s electric slide just melts the hours away.
At clock-out time we say goodbye and jitterbug on out;
We hokey-pokey home because that’s what it’s all about.
Some easy days we waltz on by; we’re caught up in the swing
And lindy-hop or tap our way through all that life can bring.
We may go round in circles or, to deal with our despair,
Find someone we can partner with and do-so-do with flair.
For life is like a dance and we are held within its sway;
We dip and twirl and fake the steps, from polka to ballet.
The music of the atmosphere imbues us with its beat
And if we choose to hear it, we just follow with our feet.
I was lying there pool of ashes, amidst ruins a faded glory
In the dark, outside the hustle and bustle , in seclusion
many many years.
Many storms did pass through testing me in the elapsing summer time
The wind chill , shivering cold a strong grip, haunted me days and nights
Yet again, a deadly lonesome , alone with the mundane, alone with gone days
An ashes of burned violin , left alone into an utter silence
I was undone, untreated, left alone with the progressing day
amidst an outcry, yet an indifference lingered on.
In the audacity of the unruly, no one was a reverie
out from nowhere, the awakened eve arose a croon
a weaving mesh of the cosmic creation. Even though I had the shade of the lamenting
A farewell with the tragedy of the departing of nothingness, no one.
Miles to go for a voyage, the trumpet enclosing toward an end
A sunrise, why the embellishing epiphany whence promising for the darkest night?
To that High End Driver,
It shouldn’t matter what it’s worth,
I know a car’s not a reflection of you;
Still I’m struck by your status symbol;
Whoever you are?
You reminded us believe in the hustle;
That hot pink vision just screamed
‘Baby girl you’ve got to dream big.’
Where ever you go
flashing five thousand dollar brake lights
that message is being paraded around;
You kick rose dust in your spectators eyes;
Whatever you do
keep playing by your own rules;
With that ride all I see is a trailblazer,
boss mode with the rest in your rear view;
Reality isn’t relevant it’s about the image;
Your hot pink vision just screams ‘Trust me.
Hard work is the ultimate status symbol.’
Just know we see you,
Sincerely Me