Short Hustled Poems

Like a spider skirting around its' web
The Sun hustled about the clouds 
On golden legs
That spotted a re-folding sea....

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He hustled his way to the top
But in an instance, he was stop
Street cops took him down
He lost his street crown
And turn into a beat-up flop...

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~ November's Sun ~


     The sun sweeps through the sky now
        a speeding star on a journey

     On earth, eyes peeled upward, yearning ~
        daylight hustled away on a gurney...

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Bill Clinton still wistfully rants
That tarts hustled into his pants.
But with Hillary’s loss
She’s on guard as his boss,
Denying Bill’s floozies the chance.



September 14, 2017
Name Dropper Limerick Poetry Contest
Kevin Shaw, Sponsor...

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The heart is but a muscle
Pumping blood through our veins
It cannot be hustled
For another’s personal gain

The heart is not the cause
Of love lost or love gained
Motives are the force
For a love to be captured and maintained

The heart it does not lie
Its true purpose is life
Lies in the end will always die
By their own strife....

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He waited,
While the crowds 
All hustled by,
His watch told him
She was late.

He continued,
As still they went by,
His patience
Diminished each second,
Still no date.

He worried,
Not knowing what to do
He thought
He’d give a ring,
Yet, no voice.

He angered,
Hanging up the phone,
He knew
He’d be alone,
T’was her choice....

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hold all the aces....
never able to gain the upper hand
never dealt a winning hand 
never able to 
hold all the aces....
the cards were stacked against me
it was rigged 
i was hustled 
never able to 
hold all the aces....
even when i though i had the winning hand
i was always bet by an even better hand
never able to
hold all the aces.......

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Vividly I recall,
The first days of the year
Planning, praying and fasting for all,
For to meander I fear
Engulfed by sheer courage I invested,
In cloud of belief I worked
In anger by former uncompleted goals,
I hustled tirelessly in a stoic
Now at the bottom
But hurdle still cling to me
As I still stroll perplexicaly
With a quest for a clue, a plea to God
To suffice New Year
A whisper into my ear "life would suffice."...

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Oh sweet flower of passion
Baby your body is a movie theater spotlights
One star shining brightly beautiful light
Burning inside hot flames
Every moment special
Singing heaven finds an angel
In you

How deep the silver lining
Softening the silence on a temperate breeze
Two hustled tears that ignite and alight
Floating on gilded tides
Leaving the literal
Bringing essence birthing changes
Anew

© Co write Liam McDaid/Kim van Breda...

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Vividly I recall,
The first days of the year.
Praying, fasting & planning for all,
For to meander I fear.
Engulfed by sheer courage I invested.
In cloud of belief I worked.
In anger by former uncompleted goals,
I hustled tirelessly in a stoic.
Now at the bottom,
But still hurdles cling to me
Like a hawk waiting to swoop its prey,
I hover ready to quest
What plea to God would suffice New Year?
A whisper into my ear, ‘’life would suffice.”...

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Life, a game
Not for the lame.
In Hitler’s reign,
He had an aim,
To make his name.
To get his fame,
He inflicted pain.
Bereft of aid,
Myriad became pale,
They continually ached,
For that brighter day, 
Which later came.
 
 
Life is fun,
Not for a nun,
She neither tastes rum,
Nor visits a pub.
 
 
Life is a puzzle,
Could get you dazzled,
Endeavor to tussle,
Else you’ll be hustled.
 
 
Life is a race,
Keep up the pace,
With God’s grace,
You’ll get your ace....

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