Best Oof Poems


Premium Member Strayed Sheep


WHAT? Oh, for cryin' out loud dude, not again! Nod off for one lousy hour and off go them mangy sheep. Now I ain't paid near enough to hafta chase these meanderin' beasts all over God's green earth. Shoot man, I got a life. Well, not really. But listen, I get me some serious leg cramps if I hafta walk more than a hundred feet. 
I know exactly what happened. It's that Norman again. Black sheep if there ever was one. Fancies himself some sorta substitute shepherd. Like I ain't good enough for y'all. Really??? You see this scar on my ankle? Got that fightin' off some nasty ol' wolf for y'uns. Well, okay, not a wolf per say, but one mean chipmunk fosho fosho. 

NORMAN? NORMAN! NOW YOU BRING THOSE DANG SHEEP BACK HERE RIGHT THIS DAGGONE MINUTE!

Oh, what's the use. Never could get those stubborn sheep to listen. Always whinin' 'bout somethin' or another. Heck, I only use the beatin' stick when they give me no choice. Why, just last week they were all a bleatin' and a baain' jus' cuz I hadn't taken them to pasture for two days. You know what? I skip meals all the time. Big babies. Anyhoo, there they was makin' a racket, so I started crackin' 'em upside the head. Next thing I know they be givin' me a hateful stare like they be wantin' to gangsta me right on da spot. Now you know that ain't right.
Ugh! I give up. It's almost noon and I ain't had my second nap yet. Think I'll jus lie down here under this nice ol' shady willow. Yes sir, thas much better. Oof! Legs be killin' me.
(Yawn) Stinkin' sheep. 

Hey, whas that rumblin' noise...
© Tom Woody  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: oof, animal, humor,
Form: Narrative

The Chatty Chair

.
U-umph, Oof-fa ha!.... There, comfy now?
Hey, would you pick up your tush,
reach in here and pick up your wife's locket?
It's  down here under my cush,
and please get that screw driver outa your pocket? 
That's good for me, yes much better.
Is it good for you too?
Yes, now go ahead and read your letter.
Hey, you remember when you and your wife, 
saved me at that Auction in Aspen?
Talk about stress and strife !
I sure was a mess back then.
One last chance, 
and I was headed for the rubbish bin.
The Auctioneer grabbed my arm,
And hollered out, "who'll bid it at a sixty?"
I remember being on stage watching you,
then it was "fifty five or bidit ata fifty -now fifty",
You didn't bid ; ..I thought I was through.
No one interested and he was droppin' fast!
"Biddit ata fortyforty thirtyfi-five bidit atta thirty two!"
"Bidda wudda gimme good chair, just alil bit dirty"
I was so nervous ; you just stared at your shoe!
"Lookin big bidder cudda cudda bidder thirty!"
Biddit abub bidja bidja bud, gimme gimme bouta fifteen on "er
well right then I Frayed My Hem! And thought I was a Goner!
"Wudja wudja cudda cudja gimme gimme biddit at about ten?"
That's when you looked up high and I saw the gleam in your eye.
I shifted my skirting, straightened my back and looked real bold,
You caught his eye,  nodded your head and he hollered "SOLD!"
Well I rocked back easy and you went in to pay the man,
loaded me up and brought me home in your old van.
Y'all cleaned me up and gave me a nice shampoo,
and set me just so in your cozy library den.
You know..I'm really comfortable with you two.
I Have been since that auction in Aspen.
Hey! You dropped some popcorn in my... Oh ..never mind..,
Ahh..the memories..it's all good..it's all just FINE.

                    '
Categories: oof, funny, imaginationme, me,
Form: Free verse

The Volleyball Game

As I enter the volleyball game
I hear
The hustle and bustle of the crowd
Shuffling towards their seats.
Everyone settled. The audience marvel and chit-chat.
The judge raises his hand.
A hush fall over the crowd.
“Whree-” the game starts.
Pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter- Boof!
The ball sails over the net and is
Bopped gently back.
It’s tossed high and
Bam!
It’s a goal.
The spectators roar, and some sigh.
Pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter- oof!
The ball hits the net. 
Some cheer, some huff.
This goes on until the last goal is scored-Thump!
The crowd squeals and laughter rings with claps.
The winning team’s shoes skeet as they run
And thump each other’s backs, bursting with laughs.
The losing team pads back with sniffs and sobs
But swears to take revenge.
© Rosy Love  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: oof, sports,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member A Stutters Dialect

PPPPPardon mmme bbbut I hahave a sssspech iiimpppedement Ssso could yyou pplease bbear
wwith mme. TThis hhas bbeen mmy llife. Sometimes its nnot as bbad aas others aand other
times it is mmuch wwworse. IIT hhas cccaused mmme mmmany pproblems iin mmy llife. II
aallways gggot iinto aa lllot oof fffights bbbbbecaause pppeopple wwwwould mmmake fffun
ooof mmme. Once I get ccomftorable wwith the people aaround me it almost sseems tto
disappear. When iits jjust my wife, daughter, close fffriends etc. iit dddoes’t bbother me
aas bbad because III kknow tthat tthey llove mme. When its just my wife and I talking it
is so beautiful because I am free to speak my heart, sometimes I sstill stutter bbut not
sso often. 
     Recently I wwas sssent bby aaa llady nnamed LLinda PPParker wwho wworks ffor ttthe
DDept. of RRhabilitation tto mmeeet wwith aaanother llllady nnamed NNNacy BBBarcal wwwho
iiiis a sssspeech ppppatologist and sshe fffitted mme wwwith aa ddevice nnamed SSSpeeech
EEasy and aas sssoon as sshe ttturned iit oon II tttalked jjust llike tthis. Pardon me but
I have a speech impediment though you wouldn’t know it because I’m now wearing the “speech
easy” device. I know you thought that it was a hearing aid but no my hearing is just fine. 
     
  
Written for the Dialect Contest. I realize it's not what
was expected but how could I pass on the opportunity
to tell of such an amazing life changing device. If you
are a stutter such as myself I urge you to check out
www.speecheasy.com or www.janusdevelopment.com
it has most certainly changed my life in a big way!
Categories: oof, recovery from...life, me,
Form: Free verse

A Blimmin' Cold Day, Even For Grandad

All avenues are amphibious arenas
Bubbles belch-burst, bitter Bacchanalian bombs
Clouds' cast-iron crescendo creates cold cantankerous caricatures
Drenched - darkness descending, daylight dying, disappearing duskwards
Every eye echoing every eye, emotional evidence enveloped
Fake furs, fashionable fools, firm friends fleeing flowing firmament
Garrulous girls giggle, grizzled gangsters get going, gravity gyroscopes - ginormous gloomy grey gusts!
Hapless Harry's hairpiece hovers, hesitates, hovers higher, hurriedly he hopes he has his hat,
Intimate iciness infiltrates irrepressibly inside, 
Jaunty Jack's japery, just jaded January jokes - jigsaw justice
Kilted killers, kleptomaniac kangaroos...
Lame laughs, low lamplight, laser liquid lines lash lustfully
Mercurial miasma mercilessly merging, mournful men mutter miserably
Nobody needs niceties, navigating newspapers, nothing new now
Ordered out over oof owed, obstinately offering old objections
Pavement pool-puddles pose problems, precautions probable, prayers perhaps...
Quintessential questing queens querulously quarrel,
Rain rushes relentlessly, rudely, rapaciously
Sizzling, steaming, slip-sliding silhouettes, soaked saturnine suits seething
Terry the tiger-tamer, tastefully tattooed, taking time talking tactfully to trembling tramps
Undernourished underpass underclass, underwhelmed under useless ubiquitous umbrellas
Vulgar victors, vim-vigour-verve, voraciously vanquished, vanity virulently violated,
Waistless waifs, wasted wastrels, wrestle with wicked westerly winds
X-rayed, X-rated 
Yesterday's youngsters yellowing, yawning, yearning
Zero zest. Zilch.
© Joe Buddha  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: oof, city, dark, funny, imagination,
Form: Abecedarian

Mild Hysteria From Dystopia

Without further ado
i offer my literary missives anew
fur ye to ponder and brew
from meister mwm of his motley crue,
whom dwells in a nada very complex edifice
which numb burr oof offspring equals deux
whereby this spouse i.e me kind of resembles an emu
whence money a edified reader considers 
dis goy wit sum brain cells 2 few
chomped on by an carnivorous elder gnu 
and said two female progeny sired 
from one ova plus super seminal glue

swimming swiftly via viscous hue
genetic heritage comprised predominantly Jew
with one late uncle lou
who himself a milch cow and frequently did moo
which found me to rue
what comprises reality to be true
that all humans originated from the primate zoo.

*****Sapiens Sale hums lot 
witnessed vicious thermal winds that blew 
thick mass of cremated ashes 
across rubble strewn,
and severely cratered landscape!

The devil made mince meat
as like one huge lumbering ogre
and grim reaper
rolled up into one 
not so jolly green giant did slay
good will to all men,
and spat out pox with an emphatic nay
triumphing over godly salvation
using eponymous accursed pitchfork
made merry and rolled in the hay

simultaneously sneering out in delight
at wanton death and decay
whereby civilization forever mutilated
perforated said spindled 
and inappropriately sensually fondled
world wide web structure
where once proud arm strong spikes radiated
now sundered in total chaotic disarray!
Categories: oof, analogy, creation, deep, farewell,
Form: Dramatic Verse


Premium Member Jim Morrison Death Oof a Rock

DEATH OF A ROCK STAR (Jim Morrison)
There's a man all alone and his name is well known
but he thinks all the world is a den
of the poor and the weak and the too dead to speak
for themselves, it's a game they can't win.

He's a little bit high and he'll be til we die
it's too bad that his heart is so black,
but he knows how to sing to a crowd and to bring
out the love that they've been holding back.

It's a game that he plays with your life and he stays
just as long as the music goes on,
and he'll make you to smile if it's only a while,
then he goes where the devil has gone.

All the girls that he's had think it's not all that bad
but the glitter's too much for their mind
so they leave him to sleep where no angel would keep
anyone for there's not one to find.

He could write every word of the songs we have heard
and he's led every daughter astray
to be part of his past and a love that won't last
into light of another new day.

Now he looks for the cause of the reason he was
Though he's died, he's still misunderstood,
but the dream's been too dead for too long in his head
and his heart's turned to stone as it should.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
© Vee Bdosa  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: oof, absence, mentor, miss you,
Form: Iambic Pentameter

Holy Cow, Oven Nation Gone Fowl Two Cluck

they would dice many a chive
   by management me from da dive
apartments in hatfield in close proximity 
   to the bloody sorry fate 
   oof a von nee gutt 
   thar slaughter house five.

mine eyes saw gore 
   and remained fixated 
   orbital fixture 
   of poor creatures in a daze
sans reaction averting gaze 
   away from disgusting entrails 

   visible picture amidst the maze
of chutes and ladders 
   stepping on select 
   foursquare did raise
or lower (similar to an elevator) 
   but movable blocks 
   also went cross ways

oh, anyway, this reply 
   written by me - scott math u
passable poet tree - at most true
this email far ye to rue
these twisted sister strands 

   of pearl jammed zz topped
   chromosomal strands being did hew
who only to five feet and ten inches grew
crafts, finesses, 

   indulges love of language
   to prose from fingers flew
   and writes poems 
   cawing all r e'en juiced 
   one angry emu
leaving her/his presents
   custom made doo doo
per comprising a motley crue
of a family - pearl jammed color ague.

please rsvp asap via text
   to me scott matthews my chosen ac/dc label
   i.e. pleasure like rubbing against sable
create r hard woo n intimate scorpion fable
unless ja noah under me ma jib rush
   like inxs o ruck kiss in tower o babe bull
by texting if willing, ready, eager and able
                  
froom - - scotts matthew 
   who lives way off the mainline -
   juiced about a few dirty dozen dancing deeds 
   done dirt cheap miles west of philadelphia,
   and some ten miles east of king o prussia
   pennsylvania who imagines your sultry skin
   silkily soft as a lynx, pussy cat
   rubbing against ma leg under da table.

Sent from my iPhone 456789
Categories: oof, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Elegiac Lyric

Memorable Rides

Congratulations! You have bought a new car.
May you have many joyful and memorable rides with your family!

As regards how fortunate you are
to get such a quick loan to buy the car,
Aha, ask me!
Few years back, 
in all excitement and overloaded love, 
I gifted my husband, umm.... a high end german car -
You see, I have faith in all German technologies-
they are strong and reliable,
'coz one of my aunts is a German.
The first year or two is pretty blissful- 
Right? as it is with all ignorant fools-
happily enjoying the rides,
coyly smiling at envious eyes,
holidaying in distant places, 
and paying back the loans religiously.
The third year I kept on wondering,
Oooish!....how many more left?
The fourth year I just wanted to get it off my back! 
Sorry to say, but- the itch was always glued there,
no matter how much I scratched, rubbed,
mowed the back with a roller-
Oof! -I just couldn't get off the painful itch.
The final year, when a handful loans were left, 
my patience was depleted, 
I begged, borrowed, emptied my piggy banks,
dug out all my hidden vaults,
squeezed out the last bit to 
just pay off the tortuous loan.
Plomp! I fell on the sofa,
and heaved the biggest sigh of relief! 
By that time this not so young companion 
had travelled many tedious miles with me,
burrowing the largest manhole-
Aha! - even ripping through my last bank account.
The next day I peered at it with raised eyebrows,
shocked to realise that it truly looked 
uncomfortably older, scarred and weatherbeaten.
Honestly speaking, I was tired of it,
found flaws in it, and who wants an old hag?
I started eyeing and drooling over other beauties- 
Whew!-the youngest and latest models!! 

May you have many joyful and memorable rides with your family!
Categories: oof, car, funny, goodbye,
Form: Light Verse

Oof

Oof

Don’t put your view all are blind
They can’t see ten or nine
They have determined they can find
Solution is already all know shrine

Bereave is not necessity it always dawns
Scarce barks all the day as unwelcome guest
Put your disguise on your veil
All viewed your deceitful hay

Shame on you for being that that
Looting always day by day
Poor creatures are suffocating
Swallowing your poisonous play.
Categories: oof, abuse, age, anger, evil,
Form: ABC

Shana Aubrey Harris - Part Two

a boon against strife 
wool worth effort and propensity 
to revel qua biological miracle re: said offspring 
did inadvertently teach me lessons of life 

to cherish and savor each giggle, laughter and smile 
amidst cramped apartment plus feeling 
discombobulated frustration bubbling rife 
introducing yours truly 
to tha hen pecked moody blue wife.

pockmarks can vouchsafe this un beak able trait
from spouse, who need not be lambasted 
on account of increased weight. 

Like a human bobbing sponge youngest progeny 
absorbed auditory/ visual multitude 
within each axon and neuron of that infantile sensory 
“sir” kit board aware at a tender young age 
how she struggled to string words together 
to convey a mood 

predilection with language impediment 
possibly passed thru umbilical rip cord. 
No idea thru combination of genetics and biology 
that burnished beautiful lass oof an offspring 
wrought a smart girl, an apple of the eye 
per this father who never thought 
thru attempts at conception sought

supremely melded genes, he thought 
loves labors last, t’would come 
to naught delivered us an artistic, 
intrinsic, linguistic lass 
who for no price can be bought
though someday, a young lad will take a fancy 
(as ought to be the path of biology)
and hoop fully brings ye happiness 
for your remaining lifetime
with a numeral 
(following a number from one to nine) 
with many an aught! 

TOO LOVE YOU MY DEAR SHANA - 
MORE THAN THIS SHABBY POEM 
CAN CONVEY, WHICH...
UPON ATTEMPTING TO UNDERSTAND - 
ABOVE GIBBERISH JA PROBABLY 
WILL PROBABLY RAISE ARMS UP 
IN DESPAIR UTTERING OYE VAY!
Categories: oof, angel, appreciation, beautiful, birth,
Form: Ballade

Paradise

Sandy grounds and tidlewaves,
It's the perfect place to be on sunny days,
Shovels and pails, sea stars and snails,
And LIttle Mermaid ocean tales.
As cruise ships and tug boats sail the seas,
Tourists relax, happy as can be,
Crystal blue waters lay before their eyes,
A perfect match for the aqua blue skies.
Many creatures roam the sea,
There are lots to be uncovered,
Who knows what next this secret place,
Has yet to be discoverd.
Children play along the coast,
As dolphins jump for joy,
THis special place is tons oof fun,
For every girl and boy.
Palm trees sway in the gentle breeze,
As people are water skiing,
The beach is the perfect paradise for any human being.
Categories: oof, adventure, animals, children, happiness,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Revving Up Life

Revving Up Life

Half asleep by my window
watching swirling snow
outside - memories drift
like a slide show, pictures
of my youth so long ago,
almost as real to me today
as the events were then.

Snippets of childhood – 
I am three, stung by a bee, 
James plastering mud on
my arm, soothing the pain,
happy smiles again.
At nine, a fall from monkey
bars – oof! – on my stomach.
Can’t breathe. Will I die?

Love hits me at thirteen,
racing pulse when he’s near,
breathless as he walks me home
from school. I am delirious.
But we break up, and
I am broken-hearted.
Life is over - my stomach knots.
I hide in my room and weep.

Seventeen, a picnic planned
with a new boyfriend. It pours!
We spread a blanket under a
bridge - damp, silly, and happy.
College years and a formal dance,
satin gown, disco ball, big band,
our bodies pulse with youth
as we hold each other close.

In my twenties I marry.
Problems. Was it a mistake?
Romance has cheated me.
Is everything my fault? 
I feel wrong and resent it.
Counseling for both of us.
We struggle through and 
find love we thought was lost.

Years pass, children, then 
grandchildren spilling joy
and sometimes angst into
our lives as they grow 
and become individuals.
I am old now. Life, like me,
slower – am I sad or happy?
I choose to be joyful.

I smell scents of the seasons,
autumn bonfires, roast turkey,
Christmas greens, mince pies,
spring flowers, summer barbecue.
Bitter winter winds chap my lips,
spring breeze gentles my face.
Memories swarm like fireflies,
rev up my recalcitrant self!
Categories: oof, childhood, emotions, family, memory,
Form: Free verse

Matthew O Harris Ease a Fake Irishman

Matthew O' Harris Ease A "FAKE" Irishman

Juiced tin he nuff tame afore
thee Saint Patrick's Day,
(hens this faux written accent
donned to sail hub berate won big todo
fur those peep pull o' Eire rush deuce cent)

aye pretend, and thence make oop
duff fallow wing vary minor event
harkening back e'er sins this generic gent,
hooped tubby imp poet hint wannabe,
(who hapt tubby absent

without leave from Brogue kin home
since a lil whippersnapper, and accident
boot tappin), when me note holler than
garden variety leprechaun, advertisement
tuff hind miss elf, no major ailment -

good red ants tomb ma late mum,
which fair re: creatures, no argument
booth us, iz moar rare than
finding far leaf clover,
and eek will coz fur astonishment

eef hoodlum (caw zing
bedlam) sought atonement
Yukon bull heave or no,
how life on the lamb
as a Dublin street urchin met belligerent

scruffy geezers old looking and bent
till kind ole soul named C. Clement
took yaws truly as apprenticed
Baron without complaint,
though kept ma lidded concealment

secret til search abandoned confident
gnome hissing pipsqueak,
would be sorely missed
giving fresh start with help to coinvent
patois, and be comb real estate magnet

ne'er no wing want oof
basic needs - yea content
in due time making pile
moan hee tall as Taj Mahal
kicking back during Lent

gerrymandering convalescent
old age spinning yarns
for modest copayment
total tubular tales with
nary a Harris Boss Tweed stitch of truth!
Categories: oof, absence, birth, destiny, encouraging,
Form: Bio

The Rapture When Reading Aloud

though strictly Fermi, and oh...(en Rico) plus sun
dre other parvenues, a rapture
     surges thru me,
     when audibly communicating, enunciating,
     and speaking English words

as if hi ken run
a marathon, or zip to the moon,
     (take as cheesy tong in cheek)
     from this pun
gent, who relishes reading for my eyes and ears
     asper myself, which purported nun

sense ink reese sees learn'n
     den earn an award,
especially wash'n black board
den breathing intelligent dust
     from eraser head could awk cord,

I utter Hieronymus Bosch, bing enamored,
and aye actually confess
     tubby a model United Nations chimp
pan zee, and/or other
     type of survey monkey hook can huff ford

Old Rotten Gotham horde
sliding down into the behavioral sink...
     exclaiming "oh me jack lord"
and getting rescued then getting less on,

     sans get'n taut how (muss elf George Eliot)
     tubby comb moored
     flossed, milled, and taut
     tubby trained for Operation Ready Date

     by a coop pull oof oot standing chap,
     named Adam West, who poured
salty epithets (reminding me, as they roared
that life iz brutal, short and nasty),

     part tickly ne'r the end
     wharf hew scored
and majority got de toured
until emotionally, physically,
     and spiritually enlightened
     By Rabindranath Tagore and Burt Ward.
Categories: oof, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Dramatic Verse
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