Best Hooters Poems
no one has the saddle over the wild horse by the name fate
Jose as I had known him, had a life twisted by untamed forces
gifted and talented, we were the best of buddies, our lives flagged together
the terrain trans-formative, as we crested into our teens
Sundays were the days when our spirit were humbled
four boys at the alter, hands folded like the portrait of the Madonna
I knew him like the back of my hand, I heard he had a father
a father I had never seen since kinder
yet life moved on, we the sailors displayed our masts
hoping that the winds were channeling us, to a place our souls would please
THE TRANSITION
He woke up to a heard walk, he and his mum weren't playing a game of chase
yet life had him on checkmate
discovering the significance of the two sides of a quarter, you had to employ a plan B and yet keep your plan A on the cricket bat
he led a double life, keeping his closest friends behind the scenes
dropping out of high school was tradition in our hood,only that it marked
a reincarnation, from the faint- hearted Jose to a classical James Bond
FORECASTING
the night intruded by slight mourns from carnivores
lighting sparks and thunder shakes, a grant entry for comic villains
till gunshots, lasting long enough to wipe an army of a thousand
an ambush that "ceased"- captive, the lives of six teens short six times each
one of them a girl, recently dropped out, not even her mum knew where she cribbed
clinging to a heard earned home made short gun, which she innocently giggled like "the machineries" ,the title of a Holy Wood Action Flick
Jose briefly called to inform me of the slaughter, didn't mention he was part only that God had given him an avenue for self evaluation
IT'S DONE
I wasn't into the Chicky gossips, that flew fast than the dailies but this one caught my ears
she came, gasping for breath, thanks to her size she looked like a raged elephant
her gang of hooters awaited the bombshell, till her eyes pinned me
"your little friend is dead"...... I left
I left running to the church next to the sewer, there wasn't anyone but me
quickly pressing Jose's contacts, to the sound of server personnel
"the mobile subscriber cannot be reached"
Categories:
hooters, best friend, friendship, growing
Form:
Free verse
Last night I asked my sisters
Why they were not hooting
Little owl said no one missed her
She would hoot when she so suited
Middle owl asked why did I care
Hooting is not what it used to be
Go 'google' hooters if you dare
For more than you ever want to see
'Hoot hoot hooray,' I hooted proudly
Wise owl like me knows to overlook
I will try to hoot quite loudly
And follow directions in the owl book
I helped little sister build a warm nest
Assured her everything would be 'owl' right
Middle sister decided it would be best
If we showed 'whoo' we are tonight
Darkness falls, noise is clearer
An incessant convolution of forest sounds
Each in a place where all can see her
Three sister owls hooting upside down
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Written 2-3-2016
For Owls Personification Contest by Eve Roper
2nd Place
Categories:
hooters, humorous, imagination, night, sister,
Form:
Personification
Night Owl
While flying over a little new town
A nice friendly place called Hooters I found
It must have been opened for owls like me
For my large eyes to roll at what to see
A big building of large red stone and bricks
Full of big plump young good looking stacked chicks
A favorite hangout after sundown
Judging from all the hoots and other sounds
Tonight this old bird will give it a try
I will hoot the hoot and have some stir-fry
The nice environmentalist love me
Now I don't have to sit in this old tree
2/15/2016
Categories:
hooters, bird, old,
Form:
Rhyme
Buoyed over waves of elation
Marvel at favourable sights of creation
Prospect for attainment visible
Within glossy bastion, even trials seems agreeable
Mollusk of endearing devotion, grumbling for denied favours seem so easy
How progenitors of our existence purse their frustrations makes one feel lousy
Reeking of corrupted souls, makes tastebuds sour to elixir
Grafted as second skin blends to exude a new color
Aversion so easily discerned when everything awash
How chameleon spirit avulsed everything from one in a stroke of whiplash
Hooters perched on the demise of accrued inheritance
Consternation that needs to be shackled for their malefactor dance
When plunder acknowledged for their vantage
Stipends bequeathed as morsels to owner of the heritage
When the bubble finally bursts
Lesson that even if one's dominion life is not always just
Monitoring in anticipation stranger's and dear ones alike by holter
Affirms the old adage that blood is thicker than water
Categories:
hooters, pain, strength, time,
Form:
Rhyme
Yesteryear pasted so fast
I was in the moment
When I realized it was a
Blast from the past
Presently all is well
I’ve been working on
Staying out of the past and the future
I just need my man to stop
Talking about those ladies at
Hooters
The future, that right there
Keeps my hope alive
It’s so bright, the darkest
Of shade won’t protect my eyes
Conclusion
My life only represents this day
And I will rejoice and be glad in it
The past is a memory
The future a dream
The present is everything!
My present can make the future run forward
And my present can make the past run backwards
All I have to do
Is hold the space bar for the future
And hold the back space for the past
That’s how I can enjoy the now
With one prodigious laugh
Categories:
hooters, assonance,
Form:
Rhyme
The owls, hoo knows why, they do give a hoot.
Do humans give a hoot, or holler more?
The moons of hollowness...the wait for loot.
The holy prayer-knees...the beak defeats.
The dove descends with not a hoot, but peace.
A gentleness does fill a broken heart.
A grieving grace from God — the tears’ release.
Oh Geez! The anguish lifts...the fog departs.
Or does it leave? Wait, not so fast! Those tears
They shine like diamonds not polished yet.
The roughness, of the hooters hell, I fear —
They’ve, left the perch, on fire; God’s shield is wet.
Yay! for the shield is wet — it douses threats.
The umbrella of God wields no regrets.
5/24/2021
Categories:
hooters, bird, god, grief,
Form:
Sonnet
HOOTERS GIRLS
Sherry I love the shine in your eyes
you're just the trimming for burgers and fries,
old men pretending not to watch you,
dreaming of things they shouldn't do.
I know Maria, your eyes are sad
I'm not the man who has hurt you so bad,
he bought a tee shirt from you one day
but then threw that tee shirt away.
Beautiful Angie, you could reach me,
but I'm pretending what I'll never be;
kings have sent armies marching to war
just thinking you're worth dying for.
Burgers and fries and watered down beer,
it's not the dining that's bringing us here,
it's just the company, when you smile,
that helps us pretend for a while.
© ron wilson arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestowqn Poet
Categories:
hooters, anxiety, beautiful, beauty, girl,
Form:
Sonnet
Have no pity for the overweight,
the out of breath at the garden gate,
the struggling in and out of cars,
cnsumer of syrup and chocolate bars.
Walking sticks and mobility scooters,
the difficult bras encasing hooters.
Red faced men and lard arsed women,
their promise of tomorrow slimming.
Condemn me now, I'm for the blaming,
in this campaign, this body shaming.
So many things beyond control,
my ugly skin and shallow soul,
but when I walk I leave no hole.
People say I'm out of touch,
I think that we accept too much,
fat piggy people should disgust.
Their need,
selfish
greed,
want,
desire,
gluttony,
feed,
pig,
and
opinionated.
Big is beautiful,
big and proud.
And all the while,
the dying sound,
cry of starvation,
die of starvation,
you,
You lie of starvation!
because the pudding was not chocolaty enough!
because there is no ice cream left,
if your wanting mouth needs to consume,
feast on torment of starving children,
drink only tears of broken mothers.
Categories:
hooters, anger,
Form:
Free verse
When it came to chesty women, I was obsessed.
I wanted a woman who had large breasts.
Now I'm 75 years old and I have something to confess.
I am an old man and I've grown large breasts.
These aren't the kind of boobs that people want to caress.
I put on a 38D bra when I get dressed.
People stare at these big hooters that I've grown.
I no longer need a busty lady because I have big breasts of my own.
(THIS IS A FICTIONAL POEM.)
Categories:
hooters, funnyold, old,
Form:
Rhyme
with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ
ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,
this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds
tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy
where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt
suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,
this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,
thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood
of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee
scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi
stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.
Categories:
hooters, adventure, age, anxiety, creation,
Form:
Romanticism
Of cotton candy and candy apple’s crunch
I remember the circus tent and dusk
The smells of donkeys and elephant dung
And heady smells of smoke that hung
In the air almost suspended
Up in the air trapezists flew
Catch and grab as we sat with gasp
Trumpets blared and clowns blew hooters
At the man that was shot from a cannon
The man with the red jacket boomed and joked
As bored fathers sat and smoked
Our eyes were wide with wonder
At the horses run and elephant’s thunder
The thrill and glee of young blood pumping
Through our young veins as dogs were jumping
And the smells and tastes and colours merged
Into memories and dreams and golden moments
As we sit and reminisce, wondering why the past was bliss
Whilst the now was dry and dusty, crusty with rigid thoughts
What we lost was more than the circus
What we lost was our sense of wonder
As the age trampled us with its relentless thunder
As we stuck our head’s in life’s lion’s mouth
Our sense of fun just slipped away
Like the circus tent was packed away
And the site is empty now, silent and cold
Even the elephant dung is dried and old
But all is not lost, all is not gone, ride after the circus, find the tent
Find the wonder in candy canes bent
Find the life and the love and the smells
Find the children with their gasps and their yells
As they live on in wonder, jumping to cannon shot’s thunder
Shouting at clowns and clapping for dogs
In awe and wonder
Daniel Human
21 September 2014
Categories:
hooters, fun, growing up, joy,
Form:
Rhyme
Right arm is missing or that's how it seems
Could be worse but it's as bad as it's been
No telly, no 'puter
All I think of is hooters
Which ain't all that bad, in fact it's kinda keen
© Jack Ellison 2015
Categories:
hooters, nonsense,
Form:
Limerick
Rudolph’s Stuck in the Traffic
Rudolph’s stuck in the traffic,
Oh! What a to-do,
Hooters too-too-tooting
Rudolph’s nose turning blue.
Christmas Eve in the township
Oh! What a crush,
Santa’s sled’s going nowhere,
Commuters all in a rush.
Santa’s directing the traffic,
Cars going everywhere.
Children searching for presents,
Oh! What a cheery affair.
A choir in the precinct,
Singing Silent Night.
The crowd stand around waving,
Santa’s sled’s really stuck tight.
Rudolph’s stuck in the traffic,
Oh! What a to-do,
The crowd standing round waving,
Santa’s sled’s really stuck tight.
11/28/17
For Contest 'Christmas Rhymes'
by Kim Rodrigues
Categories:
hooters, christmas, humor,
Form:
Lyric
A lady named Sue loved St. Patrick's Day
and marched in a parade that holiday,
after eight whiskey shooters
she showed her tattooed hooters...
those two smiling leprechauns led the way!
Categories:
hooters, holiday, humor,
Form:
Limerick
The silver sparkles in her smile
The vermilion arch of her lips
Her warm velvet chuckle
The tufts of hair brooking down her spine
The millions gold of her breast
Ardent lust gleamed in her blush
My heart tramped louder than hoofs
I drooled before the shrine of her glamour
The dust of passion rose fervent
Lucent, glistened our intents
Hooters leaned against the other's
And the gale of our breaths paced to the same trill
The shackles of her grip were
An impalpable touch to my soul
We played tint in the pink of daffodils
Under the pine fern
In the ochre of the sne'ky sunbeams
The boughs stripped shade before
The topaz sitting in her dimples
Minstrel rose with every kiss
The sways of ****** tinged us
In the lichen, symbiotic to the fern
Her buccal is a brink of honey
Every kiss occupied every hole
Every space in my parched heart
Her kisses are rockets to isles beyond the universe
A shole of butterflies wreathed garlands in whorls
The raceme of matrimonial blossomed out
The bride stood on the dais of my heart
----- Yes I do -----
Sighed our slugged blinks
Categories:
hooters, kiss, love, magic, sexy,
Form:
Free verse