Best Oop Poems
Sassy Betty Boop
Said: "Don't take away my boop-oop-a-doop."
Innocent sexuality caused male obsession.
Womanly charms had them lined up in succession.
Categories:
oop, funny,
Form:
Clerihew
I'm going for an alley-oop, dunking on your head like "Shaq"
Home court advantage here on the soup, and I'm ducking and dodging your wack
attack!
I'm spraying you with a "fade-away jumper," kinda like "Kobe."
You are trash that belongs in the dumpster, just like your poetry!
dakarai look up at the score board, my slams out number yours 3 to 1!
I've sliced and diced with my poetic sword, now I'm hitting you with my poetic gun.
Rat-a-tat-tat, bullets tear through your flesh and bone.
As your body hits the mat, give back your poetic skills you have on "loan!"
You have no meter or rhyme, and yet you continue to want ammo; For what?
Why waste your time? You must like this spanking across your butt!
Are you a "beat-freak?" Even our fellow soupers think you enjoy pain!
I know you're sweating my technique, and I have you addicted to my poetic cocaine!
Why do you look to battle on this particular site? There are other poetry sites ya
know.
You thought you could win an easy fight, but surprise, I'm the great great grandson
of Edgar Allen Poe!
That means dakarai, it is in my genes to be one of the best.
I've mastered this art, and so your heart I'm ripping out of your chest!
You were not born a rhyme slayer, so why challenge me?
So go ahead and say a prayer, because I'm leaving you an amputee!
I may seem obscene, but I'm diabolically mean like North Korea.
Before you feel my poetic guillotine, I'm injecting you with gonorrhea!
Note: I would like my fellow soupers to follow me and dakarai cobbs battle - dakarai
needs to know who is "PS slam champ" - This is my 3rd slam for him;) can a souper
please tell dakarai it is no contest. He is like one of the many hopefuls who audition
for American Idol truly believing they can sing - when they really can't! lol So dakarai
comment "openly" on this slam - letting me know "I'm P.S. slamming champ" J.A.
(The Poetic Warlock)
Categories:
oop, dedication, fantasy, slamslam, me,
Form:
Rhyme
1960 and the world was changing
A time for living and rearranging
Baseball in the school yard with a sponge ball and a fist
Donnie Brooks sang Mission Bell and Chubby did The Twist
Bobbie sox and ponytails, school dances were so much fun
Johnny Preston’s Running Bear. I loved the theme from Peter Gunn
A young senator from Boston was in the presidential race
Marty sang El Paso and there was a theme from A Summer Place
Mr. Custer and Alley Oop were fun songs to listen to
While Elvis said It’s Now or Never and also Stuck on You
Ford came out with the Edsel. Remember the unsinkable Molly Brown.
Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool even Cathy’s Clown
We had air raid warnings and marbles in our pockets
Movies in the park and Cape Canaveral shooting rockets
Gable and Monroe in the Misfits, Perry Mason on TV
And the Drifters were singing Save the Last Dance for Me.
There was a draft to serve our country and we were always ready
A time for holding hands and a time for going steady
Kirk Douglas was Spartacus and Burt was Elmer Gantry
Pies were made from scratch and there were apples in the pantry
Larry Hall sang Sandy and Bobby Rydell wailed Wild One
O Dio Mio From Annette. She and Frankie had so much fun
Lonely Blue Boy by Conway Twitty and Bobby’s Beyond the Sea
Duane twanged Because they’re Young and the Everly’s Let it be Me
Those days are precious memories that I hope will never fade
The world was so much kinder then and I was in eighth grade.
Categories:
oop, childhood, music, nostalgiaschool, world,
Form:
Narrative
Hooray!
Wet grassy feet fill my soccer cleats.
Hot sweaty teens run fast track meets.
She skis down sugary mountain tops.
He begs his coach to play shortstop.
Footballs, field goals, fumbles.
Touchdowns, tackles, tumbles.
My mother keeps warm with hot brown drinks,
as I learn to skate on chilly rinks.
A sadly splintered hockey stick, from a two-quick hat trick.
A winning catch is cradled in a well-loved mitt.
Tiger wins with a hole in one.
Miniature golf is much more fun.
Double dribble the whistle blows.
Excitement on the court grows!
Busy balls dunked in their hoops.
"Hooray" the three cheers for the ALLEY -OOP!
Categories:
oop, baseball, football, fun, softball,
Form:
Rhyme
Ek wou nie wees als wat ek kon
wees,
Ek wou nie meer 0800 gedoen het
as ander,
Maar ek moes, om 'n beter
toekoms te he.
Troep maak seker die
vlag op jou linker skouer waai
altyd vorentoe,
Trope grawe daai gat,
Troep skeer jou hare,
Troep, is jy lief vir jou land.
Dit is maklik om n mens te laat
doen wat onmenslik is
As jy hom eers laat vergeet dat hy
mens is.
Afgryse is minder afgryslik
As dit deel is van jou werk
beskrywing.
Toe ek my eerste dooie kind
gesien het,
Het ek my self oorreed dat dit is
waarvoor ek opgelei was.
Toe ek my tiende dooie kind
gesien het,
Het my brein hulle in 'n
kompartement begin stoor.
Toe ek my eerste dooie soldaat
gesien het,
Het ek myself gesê dit sal nooit
ek
wees.
'n Familie man lyk net soos 'n
terroris.
Jihad beteken heilige oorlog,
Maar ek het die verkeerde god
aanbid in daai land.
Hulle oorlog was 'n oorlog teen
my.
Ek het geantwoord met my
geweer,
Nooit vrae gevra nie.
Ek het huis toe gekom met al my
vingers en tone,
Maar 'n gedeelte van my het
agter
gebly.
In die aand maak my brein daai
doods kompartement oop.
Ek was 'n soldaat,
Maar verkoolde lyke maak vir 'n
kak alarm in die oggend,
Lucifer se braai het 'n neiging om
aan jou neus te kleef,
Insomnia doen min om my
senuwees te kalmeer.
Meeste mense droom hul lewe
lank om 'n held te wees,
Ek herleef dit elke nag in my
nagmerries.
Categories:
oop, angst,
Form:
Free verse
I do not sing any of the new songs. But I can sing Let the Little Girl Dance.
Teen angel, I’m sorry, It’s now or never, everybody’s somebody’s fool.
Alley-oop, itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini and chain gang.
Poetry in motion, Georgia on my Mind, Little Ole Lady from Pasadena.
My foot is tapping in my car as I drive to I am Woman, Let it Be,
Ain’t no Mountain high enough, Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves!
We’ve Only Just Begun, Call me, Raindrops Keep Fall’n On my Head
Yesterday I noticed I was driving 98 miles per hours to the 70’s songs.
Categories:
oop, me,
Form:
Blank verse
Thee United States bedrock foundation
built upon premises sans,
Greco-Roman template,
whence freedoms as liberty,
life, and pursuit of happiness
revered as constituent concepts,
precepts, and tenets,
within which complex edifice
(unique to these United States),
which metaphorical palimpsest blueprint
analogously enshrine
(akin to interlocking mortise and tenon)
quintessential sacred scores
constituting, fortifying,
idealizing Magnum Opus
allowing, enabling and providing
nebulous yet magnetic gestalt
cuddled ,culled, and curried
from the crucible
whereat whirled wide web
witnessed Weltanschauung
woven weft and warp wrought,
awakening whispers down alley oop
see daisy budding attempts
at abstract applications
(while Atlas Shrugged)
eventually ancient begone civilizations
bequeathed domain fundamentals heralding
a brave new world
where enterprising anonymous minds
wrought principles preserved
jarring “invisible hand”
predominantly writing writs
rendering realistic aspirations
roiling with fits and starts
*****Sapiens ambitious modus operandi,
asper systematized (albeit)
unrecognizable crude
bare drafts, barley experimenting flavor
hop ping tum malt ensues
jamming, kickstarting, livingsocial
perfecting quintessential salient rubric
training cognizance with deliberation
fostering general heuristic trial and error
limning knowledge upon primate tree
rooted tracts venerating wide-eyed
yoking zealous basis daring fanciful flights
germinating human insight kraaling management
of fledgling political organization
pollinating fecund minds hankering
toward conceptualizing justice.
Categories:
oop, allegory, allusion, america, creation,
Form:
Lyric
Voëlvry
Niks wat hom keer
die voël in die lug
sy vryheid word meer
en vryer word die vlug
Strek jou vlerke oop
En pak die lewe aan
Staan op en loop
Die harde lewensbaan
Categories:
oop, bird, flying, freedom,
Form:
Alley Oop and a girl name Ooolah
danced the wigglin’ wooly-boolah
Doc Wonmug was called
Oscar Boom just stalled
Told Doc, “Ooolah’ll get by with a doula”
‘Cause Doc was a time travelin’ nut
With a full fuzzy beard and bare butt
(so we are told)
Hey, he was old!
—Couldn’t trust him to deliver a mutt
Oscar and the doula got by
Alley Oop watched on with a sigh
out came a cave man kid
with a slip, slide and skid
which Queen Umpateedle caught on the fly
King Guzzle said, “This is so cool!”
Grand Wizer said, “Send ‘im to skool!”
but old rhyming Foozy
just made up a doozy
about Dinny, the dimwitted fool
So things are just ducky in Moo
I hope things are ducky for you
if not, read the funnies
or POtree soup punnies
and smile! —whatever you do
Categories:
oop, nonsense,
Form:
Limerick
every March seventeenth, the glint froom
a perverted imp finds me achin'
and if aye dig deep enough,
this Goyish pseudo judo day yo criss chin
can figuratively unearth a puckish
(gnome like) elfish sprite
with a layer ring ga Erin
which byte size (key) ah man able troll
help pan for treasure hunters
plume bing the underworld
with his (aye farm lee bull eve
moost har male) sly grin
stirring thy faux set (head)
feigned Irish with in
new mutter nada trace,
(boot perhaps juiced an iota)
o' Brogue kin
Celtic gene found
within me genealogical tree,
an itty bitty min
newt chromosomal thread,
(which with assistance of Crispr)
i.e., a more discerning Quaker can pin
point how this predominantly
(decrepit ole coot)
Semitic baby boomer tub hoot
(whale hugging
ma gude look four leaf Shamrock)
can locate long buried loot
according to legend
(plus devout avid fervent
Irish Aunt Fib B. Hen
aka Sally Salamander Newt)
doth avail her excitement to help up root
(perhaps revisiting a previously dug oop ditch)
maybe treasure undetected
cuz ova technical,
and/or mechanical glitch
truth to the tantalizing myth
whar hike can hitch
my dreams to a morning star,
that would make a par man rich
and put an end
to mine fingers that hoo twitch
which i roan nick pie rite (of quartz)
alluding to healthy appetite,
sans tea zing alluring
(whet started as byte)
size nar invisible craving,
which fantasy easily didst excite
(necessitating yars true lee) to don robe of foo fight
tar, yet persistent and nagging lust didst light
lore (akin to un hearth thing
pot o' gold at rainbow's end),
cuz hum ma penniless plight
such dogged pursuit, a mirage,
whereat aye drool in plain sight
thus conk clue ding this
hip poe eponymous droning pome
though, tis plenti mo' hie hood write!
Categories:
oop, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form:
Jy by die see
In my drome sien ek ‘n duidelike beeld
Van jou en hoe jy wandel langs die see
en die aandwind huil alweer verveeld
net voor die eerste ster sy glimlag gee
Donker kaalvoet spore sink diep in
nog dieper in die nat en koue sand
Ek verlang nou, en ek wens, besin
Ag, was jou spore maar in my hand
Die lang spore ry loop kronkelend
Soos wat jy vlug, en soos wat jy jaag
Weg van die bruisende gety
Oomblikke later – Die maanlig skuif verby
Die laaste sonlig weerkaats jou gesig
Al blink dit nogsteeds, steur dit nie jou sig
Jou een oog is oop, en steeds is hy droog
Tog wil daar trane uit alby oë kom.
‘n reguit ry spore vleg deur joune in
Iets jaag jou steeds
Of wie volg jou spore, waar het dit begin?
dalk kan dit ek wees?
Jou spoor is nog nie in myne gevlek
Die strand lê nog ver vorentoe uitgestrek…
Categories:
oop, desire, dream,
Form:
COMICS
Remember the comics?
Sunday morning
Paper at the door
After breakfast
Sprawled on the floor
Reading the comics
The characters
Both colorful and exciting
8 full pages
Variety inviting
Loving the comics
Hoople and Martha
Tracy and his Tess
Every Sunday
They’re in such a mess
Laughing at the comics
Mutt and Jeff
Mutt so tall
Jeff like Stan Laurel
Vacuous and small
Needing the comics
Sunday’s rest
A chance to renew
Popeye Alley Oop
Blondy Valiant too
Categories:
oop, happiness
Form:
Light Verse
oop oop shake it up baby
oop oop and i don't mean mabye
now that i can dance.....
VANITY’S INSANITY
I have corroboration concerning my mental state
Let’s just say it ain’t great
I have confirmation concerning my cognitive skill
Let’s just say it’s lucky for me stupidity doesn’t kill
I mean one must begin with the premise that life’s all about choices and consequences
While I tread water trying to hang onto my senses
One must, in order to agree with me
Not possess a doctorate or a degree
Just common sense which I seem to severely lack
And it only gets worse when I sadly look back
Back when every request by anyone I'd deny
And the result is that I think something squared with an “r” is a pie
No, I don’t know nor do I care to know what kind of fruit
And not only that but the point about me being ignorant is moot
My left hand only knows what my left hand is doing
While a pain in my right hands tells me troubles a brewing
No doctor has ever referred to me as being narcissistic or vane
I however, at this point in time, have been diagnosed as being completely insane
© 2011...Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
Categories:
oop, angst, me, me,
Form:
Monorhyme
alright
tonight's the night
time to dress my best,
which is the best
Red off white flannel shirt with black sleeves, 600 i think
i was going to wear that black off white flannel hoodie, one and a half racks,
but i think the dior zip shoes that match that look tacky, like mustard on takis.
so, i guess i'll just get some red october yeezy somethings, 11 racks. Rick owens with black laces to match the sleeves and finally
Valentino hat, 400, psh. That make me look broke. Not even a light flex. Dior bucket hat from stockx, still in the mail, out for delivery but i dont got time.
I gotta go.
Go with my bro.
we at the entrance, paid 100, told him keep the change cause he need it, and we in as soon as it open
Damn im hungry. So im waiting, 40 mins later, some tacos, horchata, we in, we just vibing. Opps staring, im glaring like " you doing here" kinda look.
Look i aint no dicaprio, but errybody look good when they rich.
Oop, look who talking now!
Opps mad, hoes mad, cause this dumb hoe asked me to dance with her and i was like who is you? You aint nobody i'm tryna vibe.
Funny thing is, they getting mad at a loner.
I'm too good for es anyway. That's why im always alone.
I wanna go home, play gta5 mods, and eat chips, and flex on the gram!
So i take a picture in the ballroom, and get out cause i might get robbed soon. Bro, in the bape
I tell him
"come on! We gotta go!"
He grab his fendi bag
We get in the Charger
Whoosh!
Wanna 'pologize
, we gone!
Categories:
oop, courage, rap,
Form:
Free verse
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:
oop, absence, birth, destiny, encouraging,
Form:
Bio