Best Oozed Poems
He cursed himself for accepting the dare. He never believed in ghosts or haunted houses. He thought it was an easy way to make a few bucks if he spent a night in a haunted house.
Now he found himself in the most deserted house of the small town, reputed to be haunted. He had lain on his camp bed and hoped sleep would come soon. Certainly, he did not relish the pitch darkness of the house or outside it.
Without any rational explanation he found himself hovering between nowhere and the balcony. He saw all the houses of the town light up in a flash of multiple lightning. It seemed to him as if the whole town trembled as an earthquake rippled below the ground. The balcony seemed to disintegrate, and he found himself falling, falling, and falling right down into an abyss.
He wanted to cry in alarm. Sweat oozed out from all over his body. He woke up on the camp bed. He tried to get up but found himself paralyzed. The darkness engulfed him like a bed cover. Suddenly he thought he saw a flash outside the bedroom in the corridor. Lightning? He had no way of knowing.
Finally, he found he could move his hand and grasp the bottle of rye. The liquid seared his throat. It was not easy to drink as he laid flat on his back. The heat was now intense, and he sweated profusely. He tried in vain to pull up the bed sheet to try and wipe his face. The only thing that moved was his heart that was pumping away like mad. Relax. No ghosts about. It was only in the mind. Tomorrow he would gain those extra bucks.
It was then that he felt something moving over his body. In the pitch darkness he could not see what this could be. Suddenly a pair of malevolent eyes glared at him out of nowhere, seemingly without a face. Then he heard the growl. He wanted to scream but could not. Sweat poured down his face and his heart pumped away like a rocket propelled to hell.
His friends found him next day, cold dead, a small cat sitting on his chest.
No Wait in Vain : Poets Meet
For decades I waited
and you did not come
to listen to my rude insertion
finger a sound at back of my throat
and the vibration of my name
For decades I wanted to meet
a small mountain as I read her
plain words in innocence
a bell in her Heart rang deep
with children running sweet
For decades I longed to touch
a struggling mottled moth
as he ached for new wings
smooth ebony cheeks
passionate with letters of adoration
For decades I watched for
a painter to mirror my songs
uncover a talkative witch who
still trampled from place to place
broken shoes echoing my silent breath
For decades I wanted a smooth ride
where conversation was free of tasks
words on both seats of equal length
with ripe apricots for the scoffing
almond chocolates wrapped in red
So I upped my thumb to a veteran one
who read from his leathered collection
notepads and pencils strewn about
space in warehouse oozed slivered glee
No wait in vain !
Once upon a midnight, ghostly,
Partied many, dead ones mostly.
Feasting in the graveyard, sprightly,
White eyed werewolves gorged, engrossedly.
In the bone yard, drab and squalid,
Apparitions (staring stolid
Neath the veiled moon, clouded lightly)
Sought fresh bodies, lean but solid.
Fiendish eyes shone, light and sparkly,
Ghouls and demons danced so darkly.
Maggots munching mush unsightly,
Black blood streamed like ink, quite starkly.
Fetid flesh oozed, flowing freely
Through the crypt doors, cold and steely.
Shadows, ashen, pranced contritely,
Ebon serpents slithered eely.
As it happens, all too often,
Zombies dimly closed the coffin –
Ra, the sun god, rising slightly
Hunger pangs were soon to soften.
If you ask, I’ll tell you blankly,
When you’re feeling dark and dankly
Come to where this happens nightly.
They’ll enjoy the feast, quite frankly...
I accidentally let one loose
After drinking some apple juice
I was in line at the five and dime
It was loud and obviously mine
People stared, they did not approve
Covering their faces, they were not amused
The stench was so strong it actually oozed
Embarrassed, my face red, I felt so gaffe
I couldn’t help but laugh, and laugh
I laughed so hard I let more loose
People gasped and left in a mass
To my relief I was able to pass all my gas
7/8/18
Any July 2018 Poem contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart a.k.a. broken wings
Tim had all the necessary ingredients right next to his ancient burner
Shark teeth dangling from a sunken necklace at the cutting edge but
The amulet had turned into chains and shackles grinding the chef’s mind
A lost recipe for happiness but and he had no appetite for nourishment
Attrition boiled over when nutrition resembled a poisonous chalice
Too tired to take stock he dwelled on his primordial soup turning back
Primitive and involuntary he turned on the gas and smelled his demise
Rotten onions had depleted his tears thinly sliced and disguised
Fetid leeks leaked misery a trickle or two at full stagnant pace
Spoilt thyme oozed malodorous rosaries into beads of corrosion
Squashed tomatoes splashed foul decomposition into his eyes
Fennel funneled his vision into a bubbling hell of indigestion
Olive oil splashed straight into his heart with no glimmer of peace
Cantankerous garlic would not fend off his festering demons
While a bay leaf could not keep mortally morose sadness at bay
Great white oblivion but slowly Tim made friends with predation
Resolved he was allergic to fishy feelings and toxic distaste
He did not remember at first how to simmer emotions and passion
But onions started to sprinkle tears of joy and the shark pointed the way
Soon leeks from a Welsh legend delineated friend from mal-aligned foes
Thyme soothed his splattering cough and he found his true inner voice
Tomatoes seeded bright red orange chakras from base to the top while
Fennel fought of bloating depression and conquered agony’s cramps
Previously oblivious oils from virginal growth re-birthed him into life
He licked his wounds and wild garlic from an ocean of wonderment
And chose the berries from a long forgotten and noble laurel tree
Tim had barked up the wrong perspective and had muted the roar
Eventually he conjoined ingredients recipe and fortunate blessings
Left the sharks out of the chowder and slurped smooth soup into his shell
Life, in the cruelty of morning light,
Is a strand of copper blond hair
With auburn roots, asleep on a pillow.
Are you waiting for the snail mail
To bring you the implant
That will explode in your head?
Or will you dedicate your life
To multiplication of garbage that oozed
Into ancestral rivers, lakes and skies?
Will you let blood bubble on the Tigris
Or become a collector of limbs in Grozny,
While I inaugurate a thousand Darfurs?
Will we terrorize freedom in freedom’s name?
Goliath, let us fortify, let us amend,
Or one day David will pelt us with a catapult,
Blood will copiously flow
From our forehead into our eyes,
We will be blinded, unless we already are.
Deep cleansing milk has to be sold by the gallon,
And, of course, Listerine.
Rivulets of ice hung greedily
to the barren, brown, basalt,
like ribbon-candy in a baby’s hand.
The sweet, wet, drool oozed from Mother Earth,
like a frozen curtain draping the mist scattered day,
hiding the promise of spring.
I've told you how desperate
I am for sleep,
And I got a suggestion
It made me leap
Simplicity itself ; earslugs!
So I went out on a slug hunt,
Without realizing what a stunt,
It takes to be a successful slug-hunter
I found one at last,
Picked it up and so fast,
It oozed through my yucky fingers
More prepared the next chance,
I scooped it up on paper
And watched it's giggly dance,
Dumped it in a glass jar,
And didn't have to go far.
To find my next ear-slug...
Dumped it in as well,
But now I couldn't tell,
What seperated one from the other...
Oh, darn, who cares,
I'll cut this big mess into pairs,
Of suitably sized ear slugs
Home at last,
Poured them out of the glass,
And promptly cut them in 2,
Inserted one in each ear,
I could no longer hear,
But somehow lost my sense of balance,
Crawled to my bed, oh sure,
But I could not long endure
This swishing sound in my ears,
And jelly-like stinking mess
That oozed onto my chest,
And stained my sheets something fearful...
My ears oozed slime for 6 weeks,
And that forbade sleep one seeks,
And the stench of rotting slugs was horrific,
So next time someone suggests ear slugs,
Tell them no thank you please,
Cause I've heard the story of Tom Terrific.
The birds were feasting
on mutilated remains,
maggots oozed,
from the ruptured veins,
as bodies piled high
of casualties with no names,
ripped flesh,
rancid smell,
guts mesh,
and visions right from hell,
the markings of fear,
written everywhere,
and songs about bombs
bursting in air,
as death hears,
all the war cheers.
I sat upon a stair
and saw a little man;
he smiled, but oozed despair.
A sad and lonely guy.
I didn't like to stare.
I waited for my gran,
and hugged my teddy bear.
He said it wasn't fair;
it didn't go to plan...
and then he wasn't there...
A sad and lonely guy.
A childhood memory, written 13th Feb for Constance's roundel contest
Kiss
How could I ever be in such a state?
Years ago I watched your lips as you spoke
They were so beautiful
Naturally red they oozed sexuality
When you smiled and when you pouted
My eyes were drawn to you
Years later my mind still wanders
Remembering a special minute
A minute lost in the veils of time
I still see your lips in my dreams
I have kissed them and million times
Yet I never tasted their sweetness
I imagine they were blessed by the gods
Given the slightly touch of ambrosia
Is it possible that my memories are mistaken?
My fantasies twisted by emotions
Maybe It is better that I never kissed those red lips
Maybe a moment in time is better remembered
Who knows how that one kiss
The one that never took place would have turned out
At least, since the kiss never took place
I have my memories and no matter whether or not it happened
That kiss and those red lips showed me what love could be
Even if it was only in my mind.
She came from heaven, I tainted a desert
She knew how to smile, I washed in dirt
She looked content, I understood hurt
She oozed with value, I had no worth
She moved effortlessly, I fixed inert
She was a siren, I salt of the earth
Bite Size Contest no.60 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
02/01/23
moon watched the man
wondering at his intent
man stared back without feelings
on autopilot unaware of his plight
tree gave man counsel
without effort, but always caring
oak handles grief and mourning
gives hugs
time oozed slowly into day
carrying himself until he had a glimpse of a sun
it had been a pretty night, he felt satisfied
many dying but more living
the tree watched the man sleeping
knowing sun would soon wake him
feeling he wanted a few more hours of the moon
before the man returned to his grief
She tried to get my attention a number of times
But It was not possible because
I was a country or two away
Wearing brown leather swashbuckler pants
White billowy blouses, and multi-buckled boots,
Fighting pirates with Sabers.
I was mighty and terrifying.
Hearing my war cry turned their blood to ice
Which is why I did not have to stab them
All I had to do was wave my sword around
And scream and they would jump ship
And get eaten by sharks or swim to land
Pride oozed out of me as I heard my battle cry.
Student me replaced pirate queen me hard and fast
When I heard my peers laughing
Apparently the teacher was not amused by a battle cry
In the middle of her boring math lesson
A Pirate Queen serving detention?
Unfortunately it happens
HEARTBEAT OF CHRISTMAS
Can you hear his heartbeat?
Lay your ear to his chest
His onesie wet with your tears
You wipe them with your hair
Do you hear salvation’s coo?
With eyes that sparkle when they look at you
With a smile that lights up the room
Profound words that created you
Do you answer when he cries?
Pick up your cross and follow him
Remember the childhood wounds
Blood sweat and tears that oozed
Do you kneel down?
With shepherds and kings
With an earthly mother and father
Honoring the king of kings
Open earth’s yellowing album
See the crimson velvet of Santa Claus
Fancy white fur hems, and a jolly laugh
But before you hear those jingle jolly bells
A humble man with a long white beard
Closes his eyes, kneels at a crib
Lauds the one who makes all things possible
11/29/2016