Musters Poems | Examples

Fished Out

There once was a guy with a trick:
the Florida Man limerick.
But when he got rowing,
the verses stopped flowing
or maybe ‘cuz his wife was sick.

It’s nothing but crickets of late,
and those that he musters ain’t great.
The hooks are sporadic
as fresh-water haddock;
perhaps he should try some new bait.

Starlight Delight

The moonless night that enhances light 

Of the stars and all their clusters 

We all delight in this joyous sight

And the reverence that it musters

A tapestry for the eyes to see

So deftly woven in the sky

The majesty of this imagery

Will inspire life as time drifts by

Reflections: A Lonely Life of Death

The heart and mind meld this time
I would that I bleed, not cry
Bleeding tells them my body hurts
Crying reveals my heart and soul hurt

The tree of life is uncertain and short
Season in; season out, my life; your life
Is like a vapour, only musters to vanish into thin air
A hidden life speaks essence, yet is shortlived

The joy of happy moments
Is having one to revel in them with
To watch the mountain flowers bloom alone,
Is as sad, painful as a growing thorn in the flesh

The hurting body forthwith heals
Sadness in the heart may never heal
A frostbite that can metamorphose into death
May subside with one to comfort the sadness at night

Are you affrighted of death? Everyone dies
Are you affrighted of loneliness? Sadly we are lonely
Does it hurt to be wounded or cry? We have our times
Does it hurt to move on? We get by everyday

When we find our way to something new
The memories of the old oft tend to conflict
None can replace a life once and for all truly loved
Huge is the tree of life with its roots deeply buried in lonesome mud and silence

There's Nothing In the Night Like the Sound of the Wind

When all the land is in repose
There is a noise, as nightfall shows,
A noise to stir the sinews of your mind.
And those who hear it at its best,
(Who know its sound, as others rest)
 May thank the Lord, he made it for mankind.

She hums and blows her gentle breezes,
She comes and goes just as she pleases,
Purrs pastoral verses as her theme;
And when the twilight tones the air,
Then, striking strains are ever there
For one an' all who worship her esteem.

Her voice caresses mighty trees,
And bends their limbs with awesome ease,
Oaks submit and beeches stand-a-quiver.
She stings their leaves when passing through,
Then, sings a chorus, just for you,
A symphony so shrill it makes you shiver.

At times, if anger should prevail,
She tests her truth and blows a gale,
She proves the very essence of her skill.
She musters substance all around,
Her lusty bluster puffs, profound,
She punishes the ground with all her will.

But she deems it daylight soon
So, she chants a discrete tune
And gifts a temperate ballad, gladly bright;
And when the storm departs the earth
She whistles warm for all she's worth;
There's no sound like the wind makes in the night.

The Writer In Me Wants You To Know

We sit opposite to each other during class. 
I struggle to start.
She sits motionless.
As I look her way I can't help but wonder,
what ideas are swarming in her brain.
A condition known as 'Locked in Syndrome',
has all but controlled her being, but not her brain.
I realize she is getting excited.
Her brain is racing with ideas.
She sees her thoughts as if written on a chalkboard.
She tastes them as though she had taken a bite.
The sounds she hears are deafening.
She wonders if she should put them in print.
Her hands don't move,
nor do her feet.
But those eyes, those big beautiful eyes can tell the story.
She musters up the confidence and sitting in front of her computer, 
writes with her eyes!
The writer in me wants you to know
If she can do this, 
There is no reason I cannot write
a simple poem.

Thursday August 12, 2021

Licking of the Wounds

I recline in gentleness 
to view the harvest moon
rising in a Maxfield Parrish sky
My heart, my soul 
floods with feelings of longing
that the daylight hours
deny.

A restless sadness, a discontent
that beauty often musters
A gentle breeze, a gleaming moon
the stars dazzling in clusters
I reach and grasp at memories 
of such joy 
shared and cherished
wondering where I was 
or who I was 
when those tender feelings
perished.

The morning finds me weary, 
whether tears shed or suppressed,
once my heart is battled open
my mind allows me little rest.
The sunshine cascades across the floor,
The day beckons me to begin
I plunge my face back into the pillow
pushing my longing back within.
I slip out of bed and into my mask
my subtle smile of acceptance
I’ll embrace the day and find my way
Beauty swathed in loneliness 
has become my daily penance.

Storm

In leaden blue it musters force.
Then comes electric blink,
then roll of drums reflects from hills.
Our spirits start to sink. 

Aloft the cauldron stirs its curse,
a potion for attack.
It starts to tease with brisky breeze
then rips in with a smack.

Now we are in a battlefield
and each strafe makes us rail.
Bullets of icy rain shoot in,
then sideways pelt of hail. 

The leaden blue now loses force.
But its anger not spent,
for it will muster once again.
Winter won't yet relent.

Christmas Songs From the Past

River chopped
Into rugged blocks
Of ice and powdered snow
Under a covered bridge
The tap of horse’s hooves overhead

Rapids froze in place, agony on her face

A boy growing tall in his sleep
Under the crisp white clean sheets
His daddy’s shoes he dreams to fill

Stockings hung above the mantle

The river poses for deer painters
Find the slope of her ear lobe
The shadow of her cheekbones
The snowy curves wound through the forests
Like skirts on dance floors swirling

Her canvas she gives to rows of winter crows, a crown

Cold wind musters at our latched window
Like murmurs behind a closed door, the songs

Of Christmas best belong
To the static ebb and flow
Of a distant station on the radio
Crooners singing to their high school sweethearts
From ballrooms soft with violins and horns

Unreachable from so long long ago.

Hunger No, Starvation Yes

‘No hunger, no starvation’,
His voice booms
The lusty crowd 
Wearing emaciated faces
Claps, whistles and cheers
She musters 
A disinterested smile 
Eyes brimming with tears 
Their roles
Everyone knew
She too
Ferried in buses rickety
Of course for free
And then the promised money
So tempting, you see
But, she’s been away now 
Six hours 
Doctor had given her twelve
She gets nervous
Another two hours 
Homeward journey
In the bus
But first Netaji must end 
His speech,
Her misery
A deafening roar
Boundless glee
Time for rewards
Near stampede
Outstretched hands
She with others wrenches
Jostling, pushing and pulling
Finally the promised 500 rupee note 
She clenches
Makes haste
No time to waste
The money thus given
Can fetch her some morsels
She cannot afford
The last of her brood
To also succumb to want of food.

Magic

Meet mystique magic
Move mind magnetic


Live lovely laughter
Set sensuous slumber


Note naughty nimble
Charm clashing cymbals


Gain glimpses glowing
Face fancy flowing


Magic musters mood
Grip gathers grand good


Lavish lovely list
Grapple given gist


Brightly blazing blooms
Zesty zigzag zooms




Leon Enriquez
26 September 2018
Singapore

Curious

Meet moments mild
Charm curious child
Wear wisdom wild


See story sweet
Glimpse gracious greet
Meek mystic meet


Symbols sign say
Pique poignant play
Dazzle dark day


Glimpse glamour's glitch
Reap rainbow rich
Nurture nice niche


Note nature near
Hurl happy here
Calm charms cute cheer


Spread sanguine spore
Craft curious core
Mind musters more


Gain graceful grip
Lovely looks leap
Task timely trip




Leon Enriquez
22 July 2017
Singapore

Reveal

Zeal zooms zesty
Frame fond fancy


Ask apt appeal
Rich roar reveals


Be boldly bright
Seek sacred sights


Taste thrilling touch
Mind musters much


Calm cheer claims charm
Apt answers arm


Jumpstart joy juice
Oomph offers ooze


Dream dazzles dance
Craze clusters chance


Feel flavours form
Nourish new norms


Grace gathers good
Meet mindful mood


Heap healthy hope
Sculpt secret scope


Rich rapture rooms
Zealous zest zooms




Leon Enriquez
10 July 2016
Singapore

-old-

Busta Sonnets
Old

A lonely bench in a path soaked with rain,
As the oak's orange leaves shiver and shake. 
The old man sits with his cane in his lips. 
His feeble hands rub together, only to break,
But he has felt true heartbreak, so there's no pain.

His old eyes look up and memories flood in,
As the orange leaves drift into oblivion.
Two children carelessly run around and play. 
Such a happy memory, warm as the rising sun,
Something he hasn't felt since he was his kin.

The old man closes his eyes and looks back down,
His worn and patched hat falling from his head. 
Rain falls once more and hits his fragile skin.
The lonely man is preserved on his bed.
As orange leaves fall in the rain, he musters a frown.

The Scarecrow

The scarecrow 
Surrounded in a field of sugar cane
The sun begins to set 
He musters out a yawn
A horizon he has seen for the last 34 years
From which he was placed to lay and hang
He ponders to himself
I am made of straw
Just a device
For the so called alien of nature
I receive no love
Only hatred and torment
On rainy days
 I am chilled to the bone
Mushy and soaked
On sunny days the crows pick 
And make fun
I have no friends
Only the creepy crawlies 
That dwell upon my body
they eat me alive
I wonder
Why
Why 
Why do I deserve such a life!
I still live even though I have fallen apart!
A strong breeze brushes past The rows of fields
through my straw dwelling
suddenly 
 Silence Unbearable silence
I then hear a voice
I turn my head to the source
It whispers
You help me survive
The scarecrows body shakes
Tears pour down his face
The scarecrow smiles

Shut Me Up

The more you know, the more you disappear;
True, it has always been this way, though I never learn
No, I never learn to shut my mouth; to pause, 
And really listen to the erecting truth of your mind and heart

Shut me up; show me your graceful ways,
Show me how to dance with danger; how to awe the stranger,
To calm the slippery snake, to nurture my dying faith
Shut me up, and show me the way to your narrow gate

Silence my temper in the cool breezes of your kiss
For I am tired of wrestling with my playful ghouls,
Crying out in pain as they test my every strength,
Making me live the atrocities inflicted upon the multitude
Inside my head….always inside my head

Shut me up; squeeze out my whines and complaints
Give me every reason to pause and enjoy life,
To provoke the passerby in light-year wit,
To use my power and make something of it

The more you withdraw, the worst of me shows;
This is a truth that even the outsider knows 
My lips remain sealed as my soul musters strength,
Readying myself to change; to quiet these torments

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