"hurly" poems
Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.
Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.
Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.
Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.
Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.
Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.
What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.
Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.
Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.
Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.
Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 12:30 AM UTC
Wind swept
Wild places the grass it puts on a veritable orchestra of movement as it undulates to the power of the breeze that passes
Mountain meadows splashed with a profusion of flowers they jiggle as if there tickled about something or other
The crest of the hill bordered with trees sloping down the hill children are running reminiscent of Jack and Jill
This utopia of nature sets aside the hurly burly the curvature of the hills still the wind hold the sun just right you it invites
Cross these pasture lands the feeding ground of many cattle and sheep the pride of the farmer who keeps
Inexorably bound by breed and creed for centuries this way of life flourishes among these native grasses
Tender shoots these roots give of their riches the sun and rain gives them a time to reign with joy all reaps
Pleasure in the walk letting fingers glide over the heads of tall grasses the silent telling of harmony filled poise
Future generations will be brought to these shadowed grounds they too will by their lives express and know contentment
Hourly they hold in sod that has known the breath of time as it has passed time and time again it enlivens breaks fourth
Sturdy and resplendent it shows all its dependability the same respect settlers knew is found the builders of this continent
Long shadows grow upon earths shoulders she knows the good and the bad but through resilience remains unconquered
The distant mountain stands eternal guard, it affects rainfall, mutes the winds force guarantying a peaceful valley
Perpetuity is taught in this land tomorrows unfold from days gone by with regularity they build and keep the way open
Stewardship the blessed hope working in harmony with all that surrounds at days end this will be the final sum and tally
The herdsman knows the time he invests it well always with broad vision does he act in this wisdom all will be victorious
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:45 PM UTC
I sit here at the crossing of the ways amid and with the passing of so many days,I rest awhile.
No hurly burly,girly, girlies here, just me,the man,
sitting sketching out another plan, and one that won't **** me to another stretch of lonely roads
or heavy loads to carry
tarrying too long,going just that extra mile
for one more smile or kiss pressed like wilted flowers on my wanting lips.
I sit
still,
the crossing of the crossroads will occur and there I'll be
watching each and every wrinkle that appears and when the mists that roll around me clear
and the fear of moving on is gone
I'll go
back
to travel once again the empty streets and this time with the plan I have
I hope to meet
on equal terms someone like me,whose stomach used to churn at any thought of being any closer than arms length.
Sitting here silently,
weaving strength into my hands
to gather up my bag and with a certain sense of swag
swagger on.
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:38 AM UTC
When will you be home:
When Spring's on,
When Summer's done,
When Fall is all in color,
Or Winter's white enshrouds us?
I'm waiting here alone
With longings to dress you,
Arms to caress you,
Before you leave again.
Yet, you will return.
Are you yourself there,
Somewhere, but not here,
Where family waits.
Let your fears
Drip off your brimming shoulders.
Here start your missions,
End remissions,
Renew your heavy heart.
Home is where you
Learned to walk,
Learned to talk
To eat and read;
All you'd need
When you leave.
Here you feel
Most secure;
Knowing friends are closer
Than they were before;
This side of the outside door.
Here is where the hearts are,
Without the worry
Of hurly-burly.
Who will bring you home?
You'll find shelter elsewhere -
A Pagoda or a condo nest -
But home is where
Your soul finds rest.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
the night cares
and we are it's batteries
it licks us like a daring child
and the night avian raptors are tufted
and their prey is energized
and the chase/escape scenario is a burly-hurly
flight night
and the trees push around the winds
and breath is the current of life
and the furnaces tick down
and an unreal peeling
of the church human bells
(calling the hour or the faithful to prayer)
aids my constructive dreaming bleed
chimney awoke
the night licks me
like a daring child licking a battery
but caring also
like a cat removing the amniotic sac
from it's newborn
Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 3:08 PM UTC
Husky honey-whispers
escape her lips like smoke.
My stomach goes all hurly-burly
and I forget how to use my hands.
I bite my tongue. I bite my lip. My eyes implode.
I imagine I blappity-zap
a-twistin' and a-turnin' into some 1940's cartoon fella
hair black and slicked back,
heart poppin' out my chest like an alarm clock.
All I can do is stand around, pretending I'm not
getting drunk, just by – staring
at her.
She can't see me like I see her.
I want to stomp up on the dining table,
then burn the kitchen sink down
and scream ****** hell to the land and sky
for making her and I
as things not made for each other.
She plays around with her mouth on mine.
She holds me like a sister, and kisses me like a pet.
I melt with every moment I get.
She will never love me.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
You just don't know if you are just being critical or judgemental. Careless or stupid. You got excited and bored at the same time. Loving the moments but still want to go home. Laughing and feel condescended at the same time. Feel pity but have no courage to help. You think before you said something but sometimes you just rambling nonstop. You feel motivated as **** and then you wondering if you could just vanished. You pray, pray, and pray but you still feel not content about yourself. God will guide you when you lost. But you are not lost. You are on clear paths. Gun on your sleeve. But you just high. High of hurly burly of life. Cause you unintentionally took the wrong pills and then your life suddenly change.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
An evening in Gulmarg
-----------
The dale of flowers in heart of rising himalaya:
Where sun rise's beyond far green cidar trees,
To please the azure lux skies---
And birds of the bush, sings and laughs, nigh,
And eternally, mirth lulls into eyes the mirth,
Oh! be ever, for me--ahh, sweet earth---
Where, Gulah can be seen, in the echoing green,
Wooing with the flowers day and night,
The snow-whistle, and summer shallow, side by side with suman and sumbal keenly looks on,
To welcome into valley-the spring---
And fairest fountains leap up jolly jolly,
And that- Bard sitting under an oak, plays his harp, among the native folk,
"Oh! my dear melancholy"---
Overjoyed, wood winds play the music,
And maple leafs dance in their rhythm,
Heart sinks down for awhile in an ecstasy
It resounds like, as a festival of holy---
And lucy! swings-un fearing
on the green grass,
There is naught a dilemma of upper or lower class,
Still sound of joy, the nature sings round the clock---
O! liberty! come on hurly,heart is unquiet,
A rainbow dwell's beside it,
Yet, bonnie beauty is in it's reflection,
Garden of eden! gracias for your kind affection-
Rights reserved
@Affaq Nabi
May 31, 2020
May 31, 2020 at 2:08 PM UTC
The conductor looks at me
and then at my ticket
the train is running on full steam
splitting the night with monstrous weight
cutting darkness by its beam.
A mess up he says is always on the card
in this journey's hurly burly
if you are even a little off guard
you pick up one too early.
It keeps happening more with good ones
taken by jumping the queue
denied a trial one fair chance
lifted before they are due.
I am amused by his strange remark
what he means find hard to get
seems the guy talks too much at work
can't quietly just check ticket.
Haven't a clue sir to what you say
the mess up and jumping the queue
make it clear if I may pray
this lifting before it is due.
Holding the ticket before my eyes
the conductor points at the date
unpleasant though this little surprise
you are traveling on tomorrow's ticket.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
The One Percent will play.
Squirrely Shirley Hurly Burly
In the full light of day.
Hop them, bop them;
You can’t stop them.
They’re never going away.
Crying, trying, always lying,
They count on your ignorance.
Hinky Jinky, Stinky Pinky
Wham bam, thank you man.
Daffy, laffy, slappy happy.
What’s the hap? What’s the plan?
Cooked books, buncha crooks.
Loosie, goosey, where’s the noosey?
Flakey, fakey, jump in the lakey.
Take and take, oil of snake,
How much of this can good people take?
Scream and shout, let it all out
Stick it, we’ll show up and picket
You’ll try to trick it, we’ll buy you a ticket
On a rail, feathered, or off to jail.
Subliminal criminals, sentences too minimal
We’ll feel best if you and the rest must
Sell your houses and cars from behind bars.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 2:26 PM UTC
I remembered a thought that I had many years ago and apparently buried down deep, tossed into the mind cellar along with all the other bits and ends, all the other odd beginnings....it might sound trite and hurly burly, but it struck me further in than I care to admit: Jewel married a racecar driver. And even then, in my eleven year old mind, I came to the conclusion that it couldn't have been for love, a poet couldn't do that except for something superficial like sex,(even though I hadn't had any yet) or money or security(all things I knew nothing of and yet wished I had). It strikes me now, that I didn't believe in love even before I knew what it felt like. So, having said that, this is my apology to you. You believed, deeply, and I....I only wanted to.
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 11:17 PM UTC
It's Christmas.
Get out those garlands.
String out those lights.
Drag in the conifer.
Smells so fresh.
Make those mince pies.
Ice your regal cake, crisp with white royal icing.
Um my heaven.
Buy packets of presents.
Hang up your stockings for Santa.
I'm sure he'd like you in them.
Men usually do you know.
***** Christmas present.
You know what?
Today 8th November.
The windows are sparkling with varieties of coloured lights.
It's 46 days till Christmas.
Someone tell my neighbours.
Hell it's much too early for all this hurly burly.
It's crippling the national grid!
(C) livvi
Nov 7, 2014
Nov 7, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
Observable words
turning in circles
perfectly working
affirmed in impermanence
Serpents within swirls
swerve in the verve
curvature burned irksome
turbidity skinned earnest
Journal pearls quirked
turpentine turbulence
since worries serve nervousness
the cure in spurts of churlishness
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
عندما لا نعرف ماذا يجري حولنا و عندما تضيع الطاسة ... و عندما و عندما و عندما ... فنحن اكيد في هرج و مرج ...
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 7:22 AM UTC
Much too early for the hurly burly of the morning crowd,
If I could cotton wool my ears, put blinkers on my eyes, find a seat in the corner
I might not despise, not that I
do, this jolly handbag brolly crew.
What I have to do to earn a crust, we all must, but I really, really want to shout quite loud, get outa my face, I want to run from the crowd and where would I run?
It's this city,
full of oh so pretty things
shiny,
buy me
take home and try me things.
This city clips your wings
nobody whistles
nobody sings
no one has time for the
simple things.
The things I have to do I must.
I must have things to do or die before
I'm due or try before I buy and take another fall and break my neck.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 1:49 PM UTC
It's fairly early and the
hurly burly of a Sunday
hasn't yet begun.
In the church, the hymns are being sung because we all know that the Christians never sleep and in Whitehall the swingometer's swung again.
But it's early and there's instant coffee in the *** ersatz because that's all I can afford to buy, but I don't cry about the little things, in the slow cooker which is slower if it's not switched on is a leg of turkey and a chicken wing,
let the Christians sing that out loud and proud,
I keep my spirits up by downing one or two and sometimes even three small tots of 'three barrels' an inferior brand of brandy and when I'm drunk enough it's 'whatever' I want life to be which is rather handy when I can't see a fiddlers elbow or tell a polka from a microdot.
Anyway
Sunday always wants what I haven't got to say and so the Christians who we all know never sleep
keep my pew warm in the aisle and in a little while or when the brandy's done I might amble over to the church and pray a bit to God, and of course his son and who knows I might be the prodigal, it's not impossible, a sow's curse can be made from many a pigs fear and to be of any kind of cheer good or not
I find it's best to have another tot and totter off.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 4:41 AM UTC
Your sharp tongue
moving behind your teeth,
I felt it roar and clamor
in tumults of confusion,
In a hullabaloo of
hurly-burly upheaval,
The wickedness is as
heavy on my shoulders;
As it is on yours,
Against my mouth
yours did beat and bicker,
This flickering bedside-lamp
of bedlam disarray,
Revenge is ice-cream
when you and I scream,
Too sweet and too sticky,
I feel full of sickness
and sorrow,
Don't we deserve
our just desserts
A little less
nauseating?
-Jamie F. Nugent
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
At the end of the day
when even the dogs guarding beloved families
sleep soundly in the cool grass-
When the hurly-burly's done,
when the battle's lost
and won,
and the parks fill up with long shadows
the cars roll into the drives-
When the dinner bells chime
and the homeless
and ragged
look up to the stars-
for hope?
for clarity?
for something to do?
When the work can wait til morning
and the sleeping dogs lie still-
and the children play games
and chase fireflies-
When the lights come on
and the sun goes out-
When we finally accept
that nothing lasts
and tomorrow will come.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
From this hurly burly
Let me step.
Just in the head, you understand:
Slight change of posture
All that's needed to be the Watcher
In the midst.
Nov 24, 2017
Nov 24, 2017 at 4:36 AM UTC
and when you no longer see me,
in the hurly burly world of yours,
or hear my voice,
in the screaming noises of yours,
or no longer see my shadow,
in the darkness of night,
pick my notebook up,
and ponder over it's every word,
go through it's every page,
caress every line of my poetry,
and when you realize it was all about you,
hush.....
dont even dare to say,
that you could have loved me,
never say that,
because you should have,
when i was alive,
coz now it's of no use,
to blow the trumpets of love,
on lump raised,
called my grave.......
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 9:29 AM UTC