"bussle" poems
wise old owl awoke one day
and studied human habits
blinkered, busy, bussling,
stressed out racing rabbits
ever chasing,always racing
never gaining, life of straining
predictable futures, and the source
who's the wiser? cart or horse?
he gazed at our system
thought whats the point....
of hussle and bussle
then rolled up a joint
Mar 7, 2010
Mar 7, 2010 at 1:05 PM UTC
Sticky, molding floors,
Flies buzzing around the sink,
Not a single paper towel in sight.
The busy, hussle and bussle,
The shines and glares coming from everything in site,
No space,
No feeling,
No compassion.
You’re ears are bleeding
Mine are too
Freshman band *****
Honors is okay
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
I
Brilliant red encased in morning dew
Effulgent in the dull bayou
All is silent in the tranquil air
So different from the hellish nightmare
Of the hussle and bussle of city life
Out here among the wildlife
A single spark of beauty
Absolutely beyond reality
The first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon
Breathless glamour, set to enliven
Yes, it is without question
The rose is the lucky one
II
The peace is but yet a guise
As thunder clouds form in the skies
For under those verdant covers
Lies several sneaky lovers
Oh what deceiving beauty to
Fool the mind in this dreary venue
For nothing is ever as it seems
Except, of course, in dreams
It draws in love mercilessly
So people simply say blankly
Yes, it is without question
The rose is the lucky one
III
Rain drops glimmer on the leaves
As the sun is pulled down beyond the trees
The stars come out
And not a noise can be heard throughout
Will the rose ever shine as bright
As they who twinkle throughout the night
Its marvelous beauty is diminished
As the day is finished
The darkness whispers good night, a silent farewell
Silence ringing much like a bell
Upon the night falling,
Without a single warning,
The rose falls into an endless slumber
With the rise of the sun, it will no longer
Grow stronger
Death takes yet another toll
And as I go for my evening stroll
In my mind, there is but a lone question:
Is the rose the lucky one?
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 10:56 PM UTC
Vast, grand, expance.
Open, ever changing, mystifying.
Crystally, foamy, blue.
Salty and fresh calming your breath.
Sandy shores outline you like a map
Topiagraphy jaggade and rough in a smooth clean natural way.
You sing us your song as the tides move in and out sweeping at the surface.
You draw us in by the breathtaking colors and movements that are emitted.
Laughter, happiness, hustle, and bussle all riddle you on warm sunny days.
But when the storms sweep your horizons people shy away.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 8:14 PM UTC