Best Huffing Poems


Little Puff Puff and the Magic Castle- Part 2

Thus we follow little Puff Puff brave and true,
For the Castle of Magic was within her view…
She will journey far under the skies of blue,
When she gets there, will she know what to do?

The Dragon Queen was angered and sent her men,
To look for little Puff Puff for she had escaped again…
“No one shall leave the Queen” from her Dragons den,
Huffing & puffing letting loose a fireball now and then…

Yet little Puff Puff journeyed tranquil and quite serene,
Unknowing she had tempered her Grandma, the Queen…
She decides to rest upon a rock near a relaxing ravine,
She sees movement followed by a silent smoke screen…

“Hi” a welcoming smile, “I’m Heidi the holographic fairy”
Created by the Queen for the forest to be rather scary…
Over time she had become kind & gentle on the contrary,
Thus venturing together toward the Castle joyful & merry…

Just behind them the Queen’s henchmen Victor & Gershon,
Protectors of the land who would tickle you upon desertion…
“Stop! Now, by the Queen’s command, your exiling exertion”
The men being weary, asked to tag along in their conversion…

Off they went, now a foursome to reckon as happy as can be,
The Castle a stone throw away, with water above their knee…
Puff Puff & her crew decided to cross the water in their spree,
But it was too much for Victor & Gershon for they had to pee…

The Castle in sight, the drawbridge opens observing the team,
Slowly tippy-toeing in, huddled together they hear a scream…
Before them stood a magnificent creature out from the steam,
“State your business, for I am Illuminatra the Empress  supreme”



...to be continued...with more characters!!!


Oct.14.2019
Composed by Winged Warrior
Background...Internet Composite
Two-Headed Dragons & Little Puff Puff...Illustrated by Winged Warrior
Background Music...Children's Fairy-Tales from the Internet
With a female virtual voice
The story is based upon Aklia, Brenda Chiri's beautiful granddaughter


Thanks to everyone for their comments & making this poem POTD
Categories: huffing, 1st grade, character, children,
Form: Rhyme

Sitting On the Fence At Twilight

Sitting on the Fence at Twilight

When the sun waved good-bye in the afternoon,
I’d say hello to the smiling Man in the Moon. 
Perching on our gray concrete fence,
I’d swing my brown legs to a happy cadence.
From my solid fortress, I could see
a daily circus of human activity.

On a single bicycle rode the Fabros, a family of four;
how they all fit, it was a mystery to be sure.
The street vendor, old Papito, would hawk his treats;
oh! those warm, sticky, honey buns and tamarind sweets.

Sashaying in her tight-fitting skirt of tomato-red,
Cousin Clarita balanced a green basket on her turbaned head.
Then came buxom Aunt Alfreda huffing and puffing by,
to give me a piping hot, home-made, savory meat pie. 
I’d blow on it to cool it off first, just
before biting into the flaky, buttery crust. 
 
As day soon faded into hues of twilight,
I’d spy the occasional shiny satellite,
a tiny, silver snail slowly revolving in the sky,
moving so silently above, way up high.

For a child of seven, this was such a wondrous time…
right until the old town clock chimed nine.
Then Mama would ring her bell calling me inside,
and I’d leave the stars still twinkling outside.


04-24-2018


Contest:       An Early Childhood Memory
Sponsor:      Line Gauthier
Placement:   3rd
Categories: huffing, childhood, memory,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Upon Misty Morning's Fast Fading Glow

Upon Misty Morning's Fast Fading Glow

Upon misty morning's fast fading glow, 
dance fairies on glittering silver wings. 
Flying with fantasies flowing in tow 
And sweetest joy such dancing often brings.

Above their heads the rising sun awaits, 
its morning sun's time for shining anew. 
If fairies are seen, man then contemplates, 
dreaming depths of that rare mystical clue. 

As dancing wings fast flutter to depart, 
one ponders glistened myriads of fate. 
Sadness beating in dreams of every heart, 
with embellished scenes of day's opened gates. 

Upon that vanishing flash time cries out, 
woe to he that simply waits upon me! 
Free living is what life is all about. 
Life taking dire chances is living free- 

In those windless breezes summer moon shines, 
In the deep dark no more secrets to dread, 
The grave beginnings we have all kept live ---- 
Weeping misery and ancient-kept death 

The mountains moan, the mountains moan! ---- as babes! 
Those creepy-crawly mists fade to fortune; 
Wondrous winds in a panting night do tame ---- 
The fevered child once wan with vacant love 

A horn Gabriel shall blow through pink clouds ---- 
And sleeping stars bring life with bright-night-light 
A world to shine and illume all year round; 
Broods of good company and simple delights 

The morn shall pass and with it mad darkness, 
The heavens death cannot roam freely so; 
Old Lucifer, huffing and puffing red! 
Upon misty morning's fast fading glow.

3-04-2016

First 16 lines written by Robert Lindley 
Last 16 lines written by Keith O.J. Hunt
Categories: huffing, blessing, creation, destiny, giving,
Form: Classicism

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Upon Misty Morn's Fast Fading Glow Collaboration

Upon misty morning's fast fading glow,
dance fairies on glittering silver wings.
Flying with fantasies flowing in tow
And sweetest joy such dancing often brings.

Above their heads the rising sun awaits,
its morning sun's time for shining anew.
If fairies are seen, man then contemplates,
dreaming depths of that rare mystical clue.

As dancing wings fast flutter to depart,
one ponders glistened myriads of fate.
Sadness beating in dreams of every heart,
with embellished scenes of day's opened gates.

Upon that vanishing flash time cries out,
woe to he that simply waits upon me!
Free living is what life is all about.
Life taking dire chances is living free- 

In those windless breezes summer moon shines,
In the deep dark no more secrets to dread,
The grave beginnings we have all kept live ----
Weeping misery and ancient-kept death

The mountains moan, the mountains moan! ---- as babes!
Those creepy-crawly mists fade to fortune;
Wondrous winds in a panting night do tame ----
The fevered child once wan with vacant love

A horn Gabriel shall blow through pink clouds ----
And sleeping stars bring life with bright-night-light
A world to shine and illume all year round;
Broods of good company and simple delights 

The morn shall pass and with it mad darkness,
The heavens death cannot roam freely so;
Old Lucifer, huffing and puffing red!
Upon misty morning's fast fading glow




First 16 lines written by Robert Lindley
Last 16 lines written by Keith O.J. Hunt
Categories: huffing, hope, mystery, time,
Form: Classicism

Premium Member The Percussion of Perfection -

There is a beat to the world,
it burns and bites, it can calm & comfort,
it will arouse and it will anger, it is a romantic rhythm,
immutable and immaculate,
an unselfish music it is, life provides this sensative song
and we all perfom a dance of danger, delight,& determination
as a humble gratuity for it's majesty,

how could any rational person contend that Nature is imperfect,
who dares accuse life of wrong doing,
how does such turgidity exist, minds on meger budget,
oh but they do, ugly creatures of hollow heads have argued so pompously
to indict the cosmos with error like how fowl beggars cavil 
about quality of charity,
huffing, moaning, and squirming in their rationalizations for feeling indignant about life
inglorious as dirt on silk,
wrangling like gluttonous mosquitoes, vile & clumsy,
if they were to admit life's absolute perfection
then more self accountability for actions need ensue,
how could they slander Deity without blame,

I spoke to a religious zealot, pious as pain to wounds,
he said, oh no, life, including human discretion cannot be perfect
for there is sin and gross debauchery,
I discussed the matter with a scientist, calculating as the I.R.S., he replied,
no no, you play semantic games, nature is immensely imperfect,
like the price of fame,
I politely requested an example of imperfection from him, he smugly said,
" genetic mutations ", what unabashed ego I thought,
his response seemed word game,
I debated a logician on the subject, thorough as an army ant this one was,
she remarked that the idea of imperfection
could cause imperfect reality,
I said, if anything occurs it must be, otherwise it would not happen,
imperfection is that which should not happen,
all that becomes real is present time impeacability -

J.A.B. %
Categories: huffing, life, nature, life, nature,
Form: Didactic

A Night Without the Kids

Yummy
Mummy

Chubby
Hubby

Jumping 
Pumping

Moaning
Groaning

Huffing 
Puffing

****** 
Sarcasm

Wants more
Loud snore
Categories: huffing, funny, husband, mom, sexy,
Form: Footle


Premium Member The Manchester Ship Canal - Part One

Glancing down from breathless heights,
Amidst climey sighs,
The looming colossus awakens from slumber
And stretches across Thelwalls linear skies.
The hot engines hissing steam -
Recalled from fond memories long back -
Tumbling like huffing little rain clouds
Down from the lofty metal track; 
Wherein brightly painted carriages:
The publicans daughter, the verger,
The magistrate, the chief executive - 
Seated first class, all habitually sat.
Swift grandiose arches, a celebration
Trumpeting the artful masons cunning devise,
Boast loudly of the great towers
Parallelogram of terrific forces:
Crossing over in giant leaping strides.

Here below, like Hercules reclining,
The stoic gates of Latchfords black fortress locks
Lift to brace against the immense swell
Far and beyond the chimming remarks
Of Greenhalls absolute, mechanically proven,
Georgian bell;
When, ensconced within a purpose-built, 
Purple brick tower:
Strikes the centuries old brewery clock
On the twelfth  
Of every God given hour.

A rich bankers cantilever 
Pushes doggedly against opposing, sheer, 
Red Sandstone walls;
Again the mauve and azure rock pigeon claps...
And then...coo, coo, cooingly calls.
Dry buzzing heat blurs over 
The hum of a high noons imcumbent midday;
The coup-de-gras scimitar wing stoops -
To fasten onto its slower-witted prey!

Steeped sides slipping amidst tumbling yellow
Gorse and sporadic flowers
Balk at the foreboding waters edge,
Where, over the denizens swirling bowers,
The resolute little rusting lugger,
Puffing and chugging,
relentlessly dredges and scours;
Churning the murky Eastham silts
That drab Manchester draw:
Into the vast hollowing quays 
On beachless, concrete Salfords industrialized,
High-rise dockland shore.

Through the deepest part of the black 
Channel
A salt grimed hulk smoothly slips...
Attached by a twisted hemp to the tugboat
That hauls the great ships.
Stirred by the bow waves
Flowing and ebbing like currents in time:
From the trough to the peak
The jettison and flotsam climbs -
Before succumbing to powerful undercurrents 
Of irresistible designs!
Categories: huffing, history, travel,
Form: Rhyme

The Little Train That Could

A little boy with a great big grin,
Loved to watch the train come in. 
To see it travel on the track,
Up a steep hill and then come back.

He watched it struggle, at first in vain,
Huffing and puffing to bear the strain.
Up and over, the little train ran,
Saying  proudly, “I think I can!”
© James Tate  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: huffing, kids,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Boyhood Dreams

Many are the boyhood fantasies gazing into a cozy winter's blaze,
Or watching vagabond clouds scudding on lazy summer days,
Or in deep reverie with glazed eyes holding his fishing pole,
As he idles away a summer afternoon at his favorite fishing hole!

Building myriad model airplanes from tissue paper and balsa wood,
Dreaming of becoming the ace of aces, oh, if he only could!
Lying in bed hearing the plaintive whistle of the midnight freight;
Engineering that huffing, chuffing monster - wouldn't that be great!

Yearning desperately be a gallant soldier defending his nation.
Maybe even becoming a famous general receiving great adulation.
Perhaps a humble pastor ministering to his beloved flock,
Or a famous scientist finding cures for rare diseases to unlock!

Oh, to become a winning Indy five-hundred mile race driver,
Or explore the ocean depths as a daring deep-sea diver.
"Do you suppose", he muses, "that I could become a movie star,
Or strum my way to fame and fortune on the classical guitar?"

A notion is joining the circus to become a trainer of wild beasts.
Possibly a renowned chef preparing tasty delights for exotic feasts.
Ah, so many things he aspires as he ponders his many visions!
Dream on lad - you've plenty of time for weighing your decisions!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Categories: huffing, childhoodsummer, fishing, summer, boy,
Form: Rhyme

' No Farting Allowed ' - a Scene In a Car With Friends


~*~

==========================

sultry aestival zephyr's puffing
as elated lilt's playing - I'm huffing
abdominal heftiness
yeah! it exploded! SUCCESS!
OOOPS!!! earphones plugged in ears . . . they're laughing.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Categories: huffing, funny,
Form: Limerick

Rhymes With Stuff

Rhymes with “Stuff”
     By Dane Smith-Johnsen

Bluff is a cliff that above land is laid.
Bluffs are charades to win card games played.
Buff is a tint between white and brown.
Buff shines stuff; rub a soft-cloth around.

Duff with raisins is a pudding that's stiff.
Huffing and puffing might cause moods’ shift.
Fluff is stuff that flies when pillow splits.
Fluff is spare language, added tidbits.

Cuff is hitting or playing too rough.
Instant speech is “talking off the cuff.”
Gruff are the words folks say to sound tough.
Guff is gobbledegook's made up stuff. 

Muffs warming fingers used to be hip.
Now a day people don't give a flip.
Scuffs are boo-boos found on feet that slip.
Snuff is brown stuff not found in kid's lips. 

Buff, cuff, duff, huff, fluff, gruff, bluff and ****
Puff, guff, scuff, scruff, all rhyming with stuff,
Some have two meanings, others one.
That's enough rough tough rhyming word fun!


Dedicated to Hunter G. Jackson, a kindergarten student who loves to rhymes words.
Categories: huffing, education, children, kindergarten,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Something of Donald Trump I Like

In Two Thousand Fifteen, Donald Trump stood firm
Said smart folks will soon come to learn
That the U.S. is in need of sounds from his horn
But he soon switched, for use of his trumpet
He's been blowing non-stop with no regret
He's Producer of fiery political script, don't forget.

This privilege trumpeter I soon began admiring
His consistent pattern of behavior is astounding
Saturday Night Live has nothing over him
The Don takes no hostage, but now he's lying
First, Dr. Ben hit his Mamma; then Mexicans come sinning
Next, his trumpet blew all Syrians down, none escaped him.

Donald J. Trump is star in his very own show
Neon lights flashes bright wherever he goes
His opponents' role, his hands can never slow
You'd think the Don's on Comedy Central show
Foreign and Domestic policies will take a toll
The Presidency's pendulum will surely fall.

Now, Hillary has the Don nit picking again
He's blowing, huffing and puffing... all to win
And because he's loud, I detect he hiding
Right behind that voice; that's not really him
I wouldn't be surprise to see him joining in
Switching sides, endorsing Hillary would be big win.

*
Categories: huffing, america, black african american,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Woman In Gold

The eighth lioness of  the field arrives
permeating heat, inhaling  exhaling mist
of blistered days perched on strands of
morning glories and floats of shimmering
porous sun.... she will throb like a wild
gyspy air,I tell you, spinning her 
cauldron of  torrid wind--- thirsty lungs
blowing bright rubble upon
brooks and shores where twinkles 
of light feed their need for humid
skin:   lush grasses glint with 
perspiration huffing and puffing
the unfinished sentences of a day
which plunges into an ocean of moist human
abandon. 

Daughter of Cancer- Leo, radiant as
an orange gold portrait, 
she will adorn the midsummer mantle with
birds dancing on fire tumbling on plumes --
 jazzy tunes wriggling her jeweled belly
with smoky flavor penetrating her camisole
               through a rhapsody of August’s  saucy haze.
               And in her nymph-like silhouette, lovers kiss in 
unrestraint confessions where forests open  
their  secret gardens  and tender beasts chew the fire
of an impassioned night...
this of which August rides without shame, without
brain.



Favourite Poem From December 2017 Contest
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Inspiration from Klimt's Painting,' Woman In Gold'
-----------------------
Written 12/23/2017,  Resubmitted 11/8/2018
Categories: huffing, mystery, summer, woman,
Form: Personification

The Bronx Zoo

The coolest zoo to view
With an all-around great crew

The children are running
Tiger Mountain is stunning

Hear the tigers chuffing
See the parents huffing

At Bird World, people are pouring
To see the birds soaring

Take a ride on the monorail
Around the Wild Asia Trail

In the Children’s Zoo, oh what fun
To visit the farmyard in the sun

The Indian Gharials are basking
While the children keep asking

Little penguins are splashing
The cameras are flashing

The lion pride roars
And the snow owl soars

Ring tailed lemurs leaping
While the Fossas are creeping

A Snow Leopard on the prowl
A Gelada Baboon with a smile

Western lowland gorillas interact
While the Okapi families attract

Sea lions are flipping and diving
Zoo babies are growing and thriving

Monkeys are climbing and swinging 
While their little babies are clinging
Categories: huffing, animal, family, new york,
Form: Free verse

Piggies

Twelve steaming appetizers, artistically set.
Seven sea morsels in a bird's nest net.
Great pies of meat cooked in butter and sweat.
Puddings and pastries and a heart-thumping bet:
That you'll eat to live in and live to eat out,
And never see your little piggies wiggle, twist and shout.

The steering wheel gets closer every time you drive,
Huffing, puffing, car seat buffing, hefty hungry hide.
Your tires flatten daily, their pressure put to task.
The trunk is strewn with Devil Dogs and a strange unlabeled flask.
Puffed with dough and chocolate, your massive stomach changes --
Scattering civilians as a seismic needle rages.

No stopping fatty acid or blubber when it's fed.
The time will come when the heart is done
And a lump of lard is dead.
Don't mourn but learn and prosper
From a waste of God's good mud:
Moderation and self-sacrifice is the way to love a Bud.

Now down to the top -- with eyes as bright as phosphor!

Twelve steaming appetizers, artistically set.
Seven sea morsels in a bird's nest net.
Great pies of meat cooked in butter and sweat.
Puddings and pastries and a heart-thumping bet:
That you'll eat to live in and live to eat out,
And never see your little piggies wiggle, twist and shout.
© Tom Arnone  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: huffing, abuse, addiction, candy, chocolate,
Form: Rhyme
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