"hoppy" poems
hist whist
little ghostthings
tip-toe
twinkle-toe
little twitchy
witches and tingling
goblins
hob-a-nob hob-a-nob
little hoppy happy
toad in tweeds
tweeds
little itchy mousies
with scuttling
eyes rustle and run and
hidehidehide
whisk
whisk look out for the old woman
with the wart on her nose
what she’ll do to yer
nobody knows
for she knows the devil ooch
the devil ouch
the devil
ach the great
green
dancing
devil
devil
devil
devil
wheeEEE
10.3k
My body steeps in this hot sarcophagus,
Coated in fake butter topping.
I watch trollops quaffing hoppy-scotch,
Flipping wristwatches for moves to jump rope two-and-two.
Like when I was 10, and I saw this ***** white trash can of a man,
Fly out of a grocery store with a 40oz like he was Peter Pan.
But I knew deep down, in my swashbuckling soul of souls,
That Peter Pan got Wendy by being a gentleman.
So this fever, that has my mobile phone not shaking in my pocket,
I keep staring at every five seconds for you to call.
Is just another moment in my life to cherish, because if we should be married, And I want to talk. I'll just need to walk down the hall.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
Into the peachy clouds
A strawberry sunset spreads some light
We track across the chili fields
And climb aboard the gravy night
A chocolate pond reflects a moon
Tall hedges show the way
A startled pheasant chucks alarm
A pigeon ***** and flies away
An unseen owl shrieks hello
Foxes cough their husky bark
The dapper badger stirs below
The night shift claims the dark
The ploughman works on through the night
Engine roaring, blazing lights
In his power-walking leviathan
Guided by the satellites
On we go, the village near
We'll find a welcome there
An inglenook, a glowing hearth
A pint of hoppy beer.
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 3:11 PM UTC
I suppose that I should be writing about the pencil itself, how its pale cerulean self lights up my taupe desk (yes, taupe.), or perhaps how the navy stamps that embellish it bleed a little at the sides
smeared, or even the sheer fact that it says "hoppy Easter"with little bunnies on it, which is ironic because it is January.
(and even funnier because the little bunnies look like demons waiting to pounce on your soul, slightly feline...feline bunnies?)
But no.
I sing instead the song of that metal thing at the end of the pencil, crimped like a tin can stuck in a sixties hair salon--the small item that sort of resembles Darth Vader; the metal thing that, when you think about it, you never notice; the thing that holds the eraser in place and the lead in the wood, and the wood in a line, the line for your pencil holder at the top of your desk (your taupe desk) that you write on and without writing you'd die...
Without life you don't exist.
I sing to the tiny piece of metal that is out of place, yet holds the world as we know it together. Because in a way, I know how it feels to bridge together two elements; two worlds, if you will.
It's a difficult task indeed to hold it all together. And I realize, staring at the satanic rabbits adorning my writing utensil that this thing doesn't have a name.
Dec 22, 2009
Dec 22, 2009 at 6:16 PM UTC
Snowy,foley,blowy,
Showery,flowery,bowery,
Hoppy,Croydon,droopy,
Breezy,sneezy,freeze.
And the twelve months.
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 5:53 AM UTC
Oopy Doopy, Super Sloopy.
Loopy snoopy, pants apoopy.
Lippy hippy, slippy dippy.
Nasty-nicey, normally snippy.
Loosey goosey, chocolate moussey.
Usually *** goofy as Gary Busey.
Hinky-stinky presidential *****
Winky-blinky, dangerously stinko.
Hippity hoppy, flippy-floppy
Get a mop, it never stops.
Laughy gaffe-y, riffy-raffy
Face as gross as rotten taffy.
Whammy-bammy, scary scammy
Mammy-jamming Uncle Sammy.
Lumpy-dumpy, far from humpy
******* up future jumpy bumpy.
Glossy boss, a frightful loss
Ungathered moss at twice the cost.
Serious gap while the country naps
****** sap giving us a slap.
Frightening nooses tightening,
Rights denied like summer lightning.
Ignoring Popes and Snopes
Hopeless dopes put us on the ropes.
Immune to our cries, elected guys
Make horrifying decisions most unwise.
Like black magic before all our eyes
We’re leaderless as freedom dies.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
Caught in the snap of a wing
With a flap and a clap
And a sting.
Down to the ground like a stone
What a sound with a pound
All alone.
Watched by the flight up above
From that height what a sight
Of the dove.
Twists from the pain to the bone
Quite a sprain such a strain
Tragic tone.
Scooped by yet a net unknown
Panicked fret foreign threat
Worry grown.
Hope’s deceased from those eyes
Now a feast for some beast
No more skies.
Dress the break hurry fast
Half awake crushing ache
Make a cast.
Days soar by seeds so sweet
Seems so spry can you fly
Hoppy Feet?
Day has come grand depart
Slightly numb flutter hum
Flitting art.
To the blue build your nest
Cry your coo for you flew
Before rest.
Rainfall dream endlessly
Silent scream to the stream
Eternity.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
Brass enlightenment . . .
All the pub droning hoppy,
. . . India IPA.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
Soon my wishes will be verses, earthworms unraveling a silk string that wraps us in the world. Ravishing, I'm raving madly, going crazy, coming, and coming undone. Your physical frame matched with your intellectual marvel drives me totally insane, dumbfounded and looking for all of my marbles. I'd sail a thousand ships to afford even just a glance, you're the oeuvre to all my movements, conducting the symphony of all we have. I've written a myriad of many books: essay, narrative, prose, and poem. That merely begin to document the excitingness interspersed within our knowings. This mirthy bliss of ours is an overture to our youth, it's this astute aloofness inside these hours fervidly wrapped in a cocoon of me and you.
I'm not coming across, the way that I initially intended to. The truth is I'm clueless on how to take something too awesome for words, and then attempt to put sentences into them. Like those pictures of you I sometimes take when you fall asleep before me. That has been a fantastic example to myself of just a miniature way I adore thee. Scotch, IPAs, and hoppy drinks splattering laughter through the room, now how can I find one of 200,000 words that could even give justice to it.
So whether or not it's romantic, I don't do it for any other reason, except that describing you and I in words is an inadequacy I'm not pleased with. When lips comfort necks, and hair comforts chests. Sleeping nestled like Bell your head nuzzled at my breast. If I could only say, how incredibeautifulamazing it's been- not last month, last year, or yesterday, but every increment between us without discriminating any piece. Then perhaps I'm getting .0001% closer to being able to describe how amazing we make each other feel.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:17 AM UTC
you remind me of the first time i saw fireworks
you remind me of things i thought i loved
a purple bunny called Hoppy
a heater on a cold morning
every Alleluia chorus
every Sunday morning.
you remind me of the sun, the moon, the stars,
how i thought i loved them all
and how i thought
they were
so beautiful
you remind me
of songs i used to sing
when i was very young
and
all those fleeting feelings of
what i thought was
untethered joy
oh my love, oh my world,
i never loved till you.
Sep 5, 2011
Sep 5, 2011 at 12:17 AM UTC
little brown rabbit
in a field of coyotes-
hoppy survivor
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
Hoppy demon, happy wizard
Turning men into mice.
Rendering even the humblest man
a hero in disguise.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:11 PM UTC
I'm just a little old hoppy toad
a sitting here in the middle of the road
my skin is yellow and my spots are green
and folks all say I look real mean!
I'm just a little old hoppy toad
a sitting here in the middle of the road
my one eye is red and the other one's yellow
and if the truth be told I'm a pretty good fellow.
I'm just a little old hoppy toad
a sitting here in the middle of the road
I hop to the pond to take a swim
I plug my nose and jump right in.
I'm just a little old hoppy toad
a sitting here in the middle of the road
I jumped in the pond with a great ol' splash
here comes Mr. Snake better get away fast!
I'm just a little old hoppy toad
a sitting here in the middle of the road
just right now I'm as right as rain
and the snake to this day hasn't caused me any pain.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
Frog on a lilly
white flower fragrant and sweet
happy hoppy frog
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 4:28 AM UTC
Imperial ales coerced our high gravity choices one day.
Bleeding, drenched and on full alert,
I limped from the Tuck's bank to the brewery.
With one pole wet, my whistle was next;
I needed hoppy nourishment, salty pretzels and a stool.
Lacking fish or gear, I imagined it would be difficult
to explain my appearance, but I didn't give a **** I come as is.
To my 3 o'clock a smoke ring silhouette vacuumed my
exhale like spooling cotton candy from 3 feet away;
I took a breath and inhaled her dandelion seeds.
A tattoo of a paper airplane on her wrist was faded from afar,
yet as she flew closer the ink appeared fresh, 2-3 weeks old.
Her hair smelled of patchouli, parsnips, an Asheville scent.
Closer now, I recognized a look of love or disgust in her eyes.
Can't tell em' apart anymore, as the prior wears a disguise,
eventually becoming the latter.
She asks my name and I ask the barkeep for two double IPA's.
We don't need a racetrack to run in circles anymore.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 9:52 PM UTC
Just shy of
almost 21 inches high
she perches on my arm
sobs into my shirt cuff.
Her 4th birthday looms large
for her
& us
...the big 04!
She cries she doesn't
want to grow old & die!
Fears her birthday as
the Grim Reaper himself
calling
in person.
"Birthdays..." I console her
are just like breathing
in&out;
stop 'em & - you're gone!
You don't have birthdays then
no more you!
Birthdays are how you
keep making you
happen!
My little eyass
all tears & snot
brightens up at this
sniffs & sniffles.
I tell her
you are the sky
all endless & blue
time the wings
that lets you fly.
Death, snickers
standing by my shoulder
"Ahhh...ya old haggard ya
that's a nice pretty lie
to dry
a nestling's tears."
I watch her fly
into the endless blue
of her
self.
Smile as she
embraces her now.
I hop on one
leg hoppty hop.
"HOPPY BIRD DAY!"
I shout
against the glare
of time and sun.
She squeals
excited now
as to the who
she is
going to
be
Both of us
hopping down
the path together.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
Just shy of
almost 21 inches high
she perches on my arm
sobs into my shirt cuff.
Her 4th birthday looms large
for her
& us
...the big 04!
She cries she doesn't
want to grow old & die!
Fears her birthday as
the Grim Reaper himself
calling
in person.
"Birthdays..." I console her
are just like breathing
in&out;
stop 'em & - you're gone!
You don't have birthdays then
no more you!
Birthdays are how you
keep making you
happen!
My little eyass
all tears & snot
brightens up at this
sniffs & sniffles.
I tell her
you are the sky
all endless & blue
time the wings
that lets you fly.
Death, snickers
standing by my shoulder
"Ahhh...ya old haggard ya
that's a nice pretty lie
to dry
a nestling's tears."
I watch her fly
into the endless blue
of her
self.
Smile as she
embraces her now.
I hop on one
leg hoppty hop.
"HOPPY BIRD DAY!"
I shout
against the glare
of time and sun.
She squeals
excited now
as to the who
she is
going to
be
Both of us
hopping down
the path together.
***
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
!!!!!!!HOPPY BIRD DAY!!!!!!!
Just shy of
almost 21 inches high
she perches on my arm
sobs into my shirt cuff.
Her 4th birthday looms large
for her
& us
...the big 04!
She cries she doesn't
want to grow old & die!
Fears her birthday as
the Grim Reaper himself
calling
in person.
"Birthdays..." I console her
are just like breathing
in&out
stop 'em & - you're gone!
You don't have birthdays then
no more you!
Birthdays are how you
keep making you
happen!
My little eyass
all tears & snot
brightens up at this
sniffs & sniffles.
I tell her
you are the sky
all endless & blue
time the wings
that lets you fly.
Death, snickers
standing by my shoulder
"Ahhh...ya old haggard ya
that's a nice pretty lie
to dry
a nestling's tears."
I watch her fly
into the endless blue
of her
self.
Smile as she
embraces her now.
I hop on one
leg hoppty hop.
"HOPPY BIRD DAY!"
I shout
against the glare
of time and sun.
She squeals
excited now
as to the who
she is
going to
be
Both of us
hopping down
the path together.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 4:59 AM UTC
valentines is today? odd, i don't feel anything. sylvester's is more depressing anyhow, that catholic name for new year's eve gets me, rough; now for a boxing match; the first kiss went to the bone, we clipped our buckteeth going beyond the lips: clumsy kissing paved the way to quote her, on our first date, buying an edward hopper book in which she wrote: dearest mateusz (mateush in english), thanks for a wonderful day in london! i doubt you'll end up like any of the people in hoppy's paintings. your to good looking, lots of love, a promise with the dot above the i signed with a morphing into a heart.
these days i laugh for two people,
i'm happy for two people,
my diabolical laugh
like a magpie's cackle call
resounds with searching depths,
and such contentment is only
reserved for the few
who rather show a singularity,
a monohumanism, akin to monotheism,
of a man isolated from his peers,
who sometimes plays a broken
guitar to raise the dead, and subsequently
haunt the living, with him alive,
but the living not allowed entry,
merely a distance of shutting up
in a nestling hope of counters
of providing more, not akin to
mozart and the others in the + (plus)
category, but in the x (multiple) category...
of seeing in near proximity a thousand
dramas of themselves in grown sperms
outside the ova: innocently they craft
the tale of the bees and the birds thereafter.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 8:34 AM UTC
Jesus was a Liberal,
He partied with the rabble,
He’d a brazen disregard for the law,
So said the Pharisees...
They thought him full of heresies;
He was stuck firmly in their craw…
They thought him radical and tragic
But didn't know the DEEPER magic,
"Let's trap this friggin' upstart", said they
His father, a staunch conservative,
Set down some rules, preservative
Of people that he chose back in the day.
*Then there’s the Holy Spirit, or "Hoppy" as he likes to be called,
He’s harder to pin-down politically… and he has no time for tarrying,
On social issues, he's had no comment, or none has yet been scrawled,
But rumor has it he's backing the Libertarian*
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 9:50 AM UTC