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Best Poems Written by H Bueckert

Below are the all-time best H Bueckert poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Just a Bit of Dust

Recently learned the word malaprop,  didn't want to dally on this something silly, cheers dilly


The dust flew off the top of the sealant fan
Frantically I started to clean my barns out
I swept it quickly up in my little dust pan
Worked up quite a thirst, without a drought

I spot checked with a test of the right glove
Everything finally seeming so slick and span
Until in the room walked the life of my love
And he turned on that damned dusty fan

I screamed and yelled from the tip of my lung
And passed a list of chores called honey poo
Is that what it's called? it's on the top of my tongue
Swept up all the dust again, that's what my honey do

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Choosin' Black Eyed Susan

Though you may find her name amusin'
She's not cruisin' for a bruisin'
If in the garden I'm perusin' 
She's always the one I'm choosin'
Black and yellow hues infusin'
These honeybees never refusin'
Glee and happiness she's oozin'
The ever lovely Black Eyed Susan

Aug 24, 2022

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A Tossing and Turning Night

In a tossing and turning night, to wake up I forgot
Never slipping from a series of perpetual dream
A strange situation over and again, escape I could not
In the fabric of this woolgather, I couldn’t tear the seam

A speech in front of hundreds, I yearned to scream
Standing in my underwear, my shaking voice was caught
Closing my eyes tightly, trying to change the theme
In a tossing and turning night, to wake up I forgot

Skating across the ice, I wind up to take my shot
I miss the net completely, letting down the team
I’m stuck in a roar of booing heckles, an onslaught
Never slipping from a series of perpetual dream

Shut these lids again, restarting in a shallow stream
Running with aching legs amidst a forest, I am shot
A hunter hovers over me, to finish his prey I deem
A strange situation over and again, escape I could not

With the bang I take off again, sprinting on the spot
There is no ground below, I plummet from a height extreme
Anticipating the collision, pinching to change the plot
In the fabric of this woolgather, I couldn’t tear the seam

Is it over? Am I out of this self-induced figment regime
In a jolt and thud, I reach the cloth of bed that I’ve sought
A sigh of exhaustion and relief, I’m all out of steam
Bedding and pillows askew in the chaos that I brought
			               In a tossing and turning night. 



June 6th, 2022
A RONDEAU REDOUBLE POEM Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS

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The Best of Time, the Worst of Time

Its funny how people say Time flies
When I try to watch him, he just stood still

I belive he heals all wounds
But people always say they are just trying to kill Time
It doesn't seem quite right

I heard there is no Time like the present
I always think of him in the past

They say he changes everything
But i've always found him to be more constant
Maybe even repetitive

He can be silent, but he also speaks
He can love, and he can hate
He is in war, but also in peace

I think I heard that somewhere...

People say there is never enough of him
Maybe I will feel the same when my Time comes
Or perhaps, when Time comes for me

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Still As My Shadow

I look in the mirror that sees the rear view
Someone is there that looks a lot like you
A pair of sharp eyes of a person I knew

A phantom that can't come further than glass
Caught in between, stuck at an impass
Made up of memories swirling en masse 

I find myself alone again when I turn
But behind my reflection a searing gaze burns
I still check each time never willing to learn

I spend all my nights waiting for you to arrive
For this uncanny copy of you to revive
I do nothing these days but drive and drive

Mirror image when gone, where do you go
I wish you were still someone that I know
Looking over my shoulder, still as my shadow

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Scruffy Bear

I sit and watch you everyday
From a bookshelf where I will stay
Not quite like new, patched with a swatch
You everyday, I sit and watch

You used to hold me so much more
When I was softer, not yet tore
I'll wait right here for you to see
So much more, you used to hold me

Once a loved one, now a keepsake
Loyal love does a true friend make
I hope no more yarns come unspun
Now a keepsake, once a loved one

I'm always here to watch you grow
If you need me, in high or low
Don't forget me, I'm always near
To watch you grow, im always here

(Swap quatrain)

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Call Me Zebra

The hot savannah in late September 
Too far back to quite remember
Born in plains surrounded by the sands
An oasis of the treeless woodlands
To be uniquely chic I always tried
Yet it never showed on my solid hide 

One day hiding from cheetahs in tall grass
With my stubborn cousin, (he’s an ass)
I noticed our complete lack of camouflage
And sparked an idea fleeing their barrage
We zig-zagged an escape from jaws and paws
And set to work on my mono-color flaws
Happily braying proud a-ha’s from my pipes
I trotted around showing off new painted stripes
Blending in reeds better than a horse
Looking suave and stylish too, of course

Jealous mammals barely keep control
When I strut my stuff at the watering hole
Drooling and licking lips in envy
Carnivores can’t keep their eyes off me 

So to boring old coats, hasta la vista
Now I’m a savvy equine fashionista
Savannah’s newly striped and charming Libra
Hey lion’s and hyena’s, you can call me Zebra 
*Wink* 
*Sassy mane toss*
…..*RUUUN!

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Anagrammatic

ANAGRAMMATIC Poetry Form

An anagram mantra
Gramma acting manic 
Mama in a catamaran, cramming in a cigar
A martian mating in mint gin
A cat antic, grit at a rat act
Magma in a tin, anti-gamma rant
A tram cart ramming a car mart
Magi antic tracing air art
Gain magic in a grim margin
Am I an ant? A racing gnat?
I grin at rain, I’m a maniac again
Tag. I am it. ;)

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Self Portrait With Cigarette- Edvard Munch Painting

Who have I painted this for
This reflection of my core
My introspection wonders back

An injection of epiphany
It drifts from me like smoke
Suddenly aware I see
Nothing that looks like clarity
In the shadows I am pondering
A stillness caught by candlelight

If I stop watching you paint me
Will myself in frame then cease to be
The quiet trickles down like falling ash
From a cigarette only just lit
As my eyes play tricks
And test my wits
I ask myself which side I'm on
And who is watching who

Details | H Bueckert Poem

Leader

we begged so long just to leave
giving into greed and theft
so we stayed and we hailed
to the last one left

everything was gone
the streets were almost quiet
so few of us remained
that had lasted through the riot

we sat and we waited
as the rain would start to pour
but we never understood
just what we were waiting for

we begged so long just to leave
giving into greed and theft
so we stayed and we hailed
to the last one left

we knew it all along
that he would bring us to the end
always hoping also knowing
that he had no hand to lend

as we watched the last one rise
and we fell upon our knees
we knew regrets were not regretted
and our prayers were never seen

we begged so long just to leave
giving into greed and theft
so we stayed and we hailed
to the last one left