"hoom" poems - Hello Poetry

I singe with a hertly lud whan ycham herty, And I arme whan singinge is ne ynewe. Carole whan my corage blissieth, And I shal deye whan his blase deyeth. Druerie shal be his a-brune billets. A stable blase that shal sustene my spyrakles. A schrewe destroyere that kesseth so dimliche. A þeauful kempe with an as-spire swerde. Gostes of i-þank als ouer my vingeres. Al-only dulce conceiptes fletene in my gostes. Sumdel real cannot be als amaddinge. Sumdel real cannot be te-tealte! Is the mannish þonc als mase and puissant Sweuenen of suic a selkout conand? Dest Moder Folde cune of hire child? Hire misty doter who berne and bilde? The hoom is not where the herte is. The herte is the hoom bote motif The herte, the hoom, the ende, and the sepulture. A luft who is the mest derure in the Folde.

0

Oct 2, 2012

Oct 2, 2012 at 11:02 AM UTC

jackson-freeman

A Luuerlich Mortherer (Middle English Sonnet)

I singe with a hertly lud whan ycham herty, And I arme whan singinge is ne ynewe. Carole whan my corage blissieth, And I shal deye whan his blase deyeth. Druerie shal be his a-brune billets. A stable blase that shal sustene my spyrakles. A schrewe destroyere that kesseth so dimliche. A þeauful kempe with an as-spire swerde. Gostes of i-þank als ouer my vingeres. Al-only dulce conceiptes fletene in my gostes. Sumdel real cannot be als amaddinge. Sumdel real cannot be te-tealte! Is the mannish þonc als mase and puissant Sweuenen of suic a selkout conand? Dest Moder Folde cune of hire child? Hire misty doter who berne and bilde? The hoom is not where the herte is. The herte is the hoom bote motif The herte, the hoom, the ende, and the sepulture. A luft who is the mest derure in the Folde.

20

I come on me bike tonight, Blast bor, That wind were agin me the whole blinkin way I wholey hoop that change afore I goo hoom agin.

0

Nov 11, 2016

Nov 11, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC

martin

Overheard in a Suffolk pub

I come on me bike tonight, Blast bor, That wind were agin me the whole blinkin way I wholey hoop that change afore I goo hoom agin.

4

Rattlesnake Boom is the gangly Doberman at the door When it opened I froze And she did as well One too many fingers Bashful stew of gashy meats Pulsating, squirting, blood spurting and flowing back I take a deep breath And my joints lubricate as if by magic Doom rakes a killing And yet grave is my slumber Low, humbling, thundering I push too hard and it collapses In is where I belonged, now I wept thrice Buttoned up tight You tilt as a broken table It was so and it creaked longingly Crept up from under somewhere And never looked back Mal was indeed Trickling once and twice and thrice borne Diurnal my beloved Of once and twice and thrice borne kind Of seaweed and *** Out of a split dome A gashed most dastardly One of the cloaks covered me well Under a lock with no keyhole Filed my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files One too many mirrors in this madhouse For all the blind to see Conjuring spells with a swollen tongue Heard the pacing and followed through The left after the left and the right after the right, hi-ho I take from myself And be no thing A rumble creeps and wakes when not tended Forlorn sensitivity Starving tumbles a hoom, a waan, a rushed impregnate Words birthed in barren plains Some one thing creaks and hums and cracks A dwarf dances in by a jazz darkly Limbless jig in two movements Jeaned out weens and them spurts one big black whale up up upward Time is a flat **** stain El amor de mi vida A misery of cheese One of loves, one of lives Gargles reflowed uncivil Leave white and follow through Break my bones pulling in Kicked inwards nervous gaseous porous Corked out flesh see one lick two Rumbarumbarumba Off a wonder land Bane is my juice Soon follows rot Tender, sweet rut Shadow tongued drips and wets I don’t need to recall the melody It left a map so large it became the land By the name alone I find a way Of a one off beat and two rushing in, tu-pah! Drum the ear and work a sweat

0

Oct 15, 2024

Oct 15, 2024 at 7:23 PM UTC

gabrielk

Rattlesnake

Rattlesnake Boom is the gangly Doberman at the door When it opened I froze And she did as well One too many fingers Bashful stew of gashy meats Pulsating, squirting, blood spurting and flowing back I take a deep breath And my joints lubricate as if by magic Doom rakes a killing And yet grave is my slumber Low, humbling, thundering I push too hard and it collapses In is where I belonged, now I wept thrice Buttoned up tight You tilt as a broken table It was so and it creaked longingly Crept up from under somewhere And never looked back Mal was indeed Trickling once and twice and thrice borne Diurnal my beloved Of once and twice and thrice borne kind Of seaweed and *** Out of a split dome A gashed most dastardly One of the cloaks covered me well Under a lock with no keyhole Filed my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files the chain that files my nail that files One too many mirrors in this madhouse For all the blind to see Conjuring spells with a swollen tongue Heard the pacing and followed through The left after the left and the right after the right, hi-ho I take from myself And be no thing A rumble creeps and wakes when not tended Forlorn sensitivity Starving tumbles a hoom, a waan, a rushed impregnate Words birthed in barren plains Some one thing creaks and hums and cracks A dwarf dances in by a jazz darkly Limbless jig in two movements Jeaned out weens and them spurts one big black whale up up upward Time is a flat **** stain El amor de mi vida A misery of cheese One of loves, one of lives Gargles reflowed uncivil Leave white and follow through Break my bones pulling in Kicked inwards nervous gaseous porous Corked out flesh see one lick two Rumbarumbarumba Off a wonder land Bane is my juice Soon follows rot Tender, sweet rut Shadow tongued drips and wets I don’t need to recall the melody It left a map so large it became the land By the name alone I find a way Of a one off beat and two rushing in, tu-pah! Drum the ear and work a sweat

65

The haunting “hoom!” of the wind flying past my window A wingless friend that flies above as we shuffle cold sidewalks below The old knees of stiff trees desist against this chilled yoga forced upon them Carries the scent of cool December I’ve come to know And love because I can’t help but to reminisce On all the memories of childhood bliss The snowball fights; winter breaks, best friends, holidays but sometimes most of all the naïve ignorance. Because now we just know so friggin’ much, am I right? We’re consumed by the responsibilities of maturity and pride. We must accomplish things as small as sharing a smile with a stranger and as large as the quest for self-actualization When it’s cold like this and I’m sitting under my lamp bundled thoughts -swerving Letting the dim glow of the bulb wash over my arms and dissipate to the shadows and corners of my room Muzak for my thoughts in the wind’s sporadic “hoommm!” I find it in the least bit unnerving I exhale and release -delayed-gratification We’ve just learned the infinite diminutive time span of Christmas vacation But for a second I’m little clumsy Sharde’ again Making snowballs ‘till my fingertips are burning 1:07am 12.13.2010

0

Aug 26, 2014

Aug 26, 2014 at 10:36 PM UTC

sharde-fultz

Frozen Leaves

The haunting “hoom!” of the wind flying past my window A wingless friend that flies above as we shuffle cold sidewalks below The old knees of stiff trees desist against this chilled yoga forced upon them Carries the scent of cool December I’ve come to know And love because I can’t help but to reminisce On all the memories of childhood bliss The snowball fights; winter breaks, best friends, holidays but sometimes most of all the naïve ignorance. Because now we just know so friggin’ much, am I right? We’re consumed by the responsibilities of maturity and pride. We must accomplish things as small as sharing a smile with a stranger and as large as the quest for self-actualization When it’s cold like this and I’m sitting under my lamp bundled thoughts -swerving Letting the dim glow of the bulb wash over my arms and dissipate to the shadows and corners of my room Muzak for my thoughts in the wind’s sporadic “hoommm!” I find it in the least bit unnerving I exhale and release -delayed-gratification We’ve just learned the infinite diminutive time span of Christmas vacation But for a second I’m little clumsy Sharde’ again Making snowballs ‘till my fingertips are burning 1:07am 12.13.2010

22

you appear so fragile: i don't know whether to want you, or discard you, touch you: or foget to have missed me **** you... your language is a laguid tease... i macbeth, i macbeth... i leave the i am, open to satiate your scoop for an, opening of the wound... i am bemused by having to deal with you as a curiosity, that i... sometimes forget to chase my own shadow... you: forever in third person... are: a person not worth an enigmas' worth to replace the person being towed... and i know what appears fragile... the most... insect-like apparent... a dog-barking-familiar... fake... i know what shuffles in shatter and the scooping fake... a mind... like any other... a hybrid of the wind like a tow of the sly of the southern scythe made: lumber... tow: and the fallen tree, tow... silence... echo... winter breed: a lost... scuttle... macbeth o macbeth! i beseech you, macbeth! to have to heave one heart, but be given another.... and all that constitutes the deaths of the enshrined parody of the basics of the lived society... ich bin spiegel: ich bin schrein - ich bin mutter-witwe: ich bin: die zuletzt: ende... kommen entweder sie zeit, ür platz.... ür: gott ist alle gott iß güt! i don't want to speak the language i was either born with, or the language i acquired... but i also don't want to speak the language that's desired... ar wir bestimmt... sprechen klein so? am i always to halve what is, and what isn't so? scot: hi' h'oon! hoom! sober... and soak: and north baron of: 'oon! 'arangue?! 'a! swoon a'r'ah shoon! hoo! e'yeer!

0

Feb 4, 2019

Feb 4, 2019 at 12:40 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

humming hubris

you appear so fragile: i don't know whether to want you, or discard you, touch you: or foget to have missed me **** you... your language is a laguid tease... i macbeth, i macbeth... i leave the i am, open to satiate your scoop for an, opening of the wound... i am bemused by having to deal with you as a curiosity, that i... sometimes forget to chase my own shadow... you: forever in third person... are: a person not worth an enigmas' worth to replace the person being towed... and i know what appears fragile... the most... insect-like apparent... a dog-barking-familiar... fake... i know what shuffles in shatter and the scooping fake... a mind... like any other... a hybrid of the wind like a tow of the sly of the southern scythe made: lumber... tow: and the fallen tree, tow... silence... echo... winter breed: a lost... scuttle... macbeth o macbeth! i beseech you, macbeth! to have to heave one heart, but be given another.... and all that constitutes the deaths of the enshrined parody of the basics of the lived society... ich bin spiegel: ich bin schrein - ich bin mutter-witwe: ich bin: die zuletzt: ende... kommen entweder sie zeit, ür platz.... ür: gott ist alle gott iß güt! i don't want to speak the language i was either born with, or the language i acquired... but i also don't want to speak the language that's desired... ar wir bestimmt... sprechen klein so? am i always to halve what is, and what isn't so? scot: hi' h'oon! hoom! sober... and soak: and north baron of: 'oon! 'arangue?! 'a! swoon a'r'ah shoon! hoo! e'yeer!

98

you want me to put out a cigarette out inside your eye? let's face it: tears don't come cheap... sometimes you need more than a rom-com to turn your eye into a niagara falls... which way's the hmm hum umm? this sort of time-frame is really confiscating my anti-claustrophobic philia worth of shaking hands or knee-jerking really quick; get my drift? no? no matter... i can do with a "thought" basis for summary... ah **** me... can you imagine feeling magnetism when shaking your hand really ****** apart from watching paint dry, i suggest the "movie" of watching ice freeze, or mercury freeze... the latter? gone with the wind standard of 3 hours +... nice though... to imagine, better still: imitate... what a sin to bed driving a car, and listening to classical music, citing john brunning after five p.m., who the **** listens to classical music when driving a car? leprechauns?! he-be-he-be-hoom-ha?! modesty just ****** off, all we're left with is a welcome "bargain" of profanity; i always enjoyed the idea of running 100m while dribbling a football, like the time when marc overmars could outrun most sprinters dribbling a football while playing the left-wing for arsenal... every time i see these men of sprint getting all cocky... i tend to ask them: hold an egg on a tbl. spoon... and run the same time of the worth of distance... marc overmars would still out-run you... mind the fact that he was also dribbling a football... evidently humanity will not remember a marc overmars: simply because he wasn't in a ****** advert... too bad... that dutch "prince" could out-run that jamaican rod while juggling three oranges with his hands, balancing a watermelon on his head, and dribbling a football; basic!

0

Aug 2, 2017

Aug 2, 2017 at 9:57 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

i like this image / marc overmars

you want me to put out a cigarette out inside your eye? let's face it: tears don't come cheap... sometimes you need more than a rom-com to turn your eye into a niagara falls... which way's the hmm hum umm? this sort of time-frame is really confiscating my anti-claustrophobic philia worth of shaking hands or knee-jerking really quick; get my drift? no? no matter... i can do with a "thought" basis for summary... ah **** me... can you imagine feeling magnetism when shaking your hand really ****** apart from watching paint dry, i suggest the "movie" of watching ice freeze, or mercury freeze... the latter? gone with the wind standard of 3 hours +... nice though... to imagine, better still: imitate... what a sin to bed driving a car, and listening to classical music, citing john brunning after five p.m., who the **** listens to classical music when driving a car? leprechauns?! he-be-he-be-hoom-ha?! modesty just ****** off, all we're left with is a welcome "bargain" of profanity; i always enjoyed the idea of running 100m while dribbling a football, like the time when marc overmars could outrun most sprinters dribbling a football while playing the left-wing for arsenal... every time i see these men of sprint getting all cocky... i tend to ask them: hold an egg on a tbl. spoon... and run the same time of the worth of distance... marc overmars would still out-run you... mind the fact that he was also dribbling a football... evidently humanity will not remember a marc overmars: simply because he wasn't in a ****** advert... too bad... that dutch "prince" could out-run that jamaican rod while juggling three oranges with his hands, balancing a watermelon on his head, and dribbling a football; basic!

67