"huff" poems
You're the Wacky Wolf-man,
Tearing through our pages with a single huff.
Breathing life into us little piggies,
Blasting your way through the daily fluff.
You're the Word Wizard.
Leaving us in awe and in dribbles.
Waving your wand,
Conjuring magical and spellbinding scribbles.
You're the Living Legend,
Almost like a deity of some sort.
Garnering shiploads of admiration,
Through words of encouragement, banter and retort.
You're the Bad Boy Bard...
Never mincing your words.
Unconventional, you howl amidst the flocks...
You never did chirp like the birds...
You're the Minstrel Mobster,
Shooting your Tommy, never missing.
Flicking forward your fedora,
Strung lute ever smoking.
You're one Cool Cat.
Fending off haters with a bat.
Everyone just wants to be that.
Like a superhero whose symbol is a bat...
You're a Gem Generator.
Cogs and gears churning the jewels laid
Machine malfunction! My system's jammed!
Well I guess that's just it... Enough said!
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC
my girlfriend moved in
but she left with a huff and a puff
when she realised the truth
the truth dawned on her
when she heard
the parrot repeat
after just two months:
*"What's for dinner?
What's for dinner?
What's for dinner?"*
she left; now it's just
me and my parrot again
and all my ****** parrot says now is:
**** you, parrot!
**** you, parrot!"*
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Whispered body types
replayed melted melodies
Do you feel the jive above your head?
Stick, stick our toes
Where was that porcelain face in that cup, so bitter?
Trick them with polished giggles,
I know you.
Little, Insignificant, give me your
bones to crush and huff.
Forgive me. Not.
Candid rush of paint
retake, retake, retake.
That girl should have been a
reindeer, she's road ****
We are soft grunge.
Play it by fear.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
****
My buddy
My man
The only time id eat a ginger bread man
****
I huff and I puff
And I blow nothing down
There ain't nothin but a couch and some Doritos I could even knock down
****
Couldn't hurt a fly
But I might blow smoke in your eye
****
So nice so fly
Man I'm high as the sky
****
Where am I?
At the store craving some s'mores
****
I like twix too
Don't call me a Jew
****
We all have fun
We laugh
But we're too high to run
****
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 10:49 PM UTC
The Day...
...huff, huff, ...huff
breathe
Not one but many,
downed
twenty-two a numbered set
Push!
break, reset, align...
frost, huff,
Great God of Light reveals our Glory!
breathing...breathing
Field of pain, torn, exhausted,
sweat, rain, mist, colder
as grass-stained; the warrior's drobe.
Situate,
whistle! -stop!
Realign,
Randint, paired, matched to offset...
feign, move
'Eleven-by-Eleven,' storied beget
tension
Forty-Five!
Eighteen!
Okemah!
Rush...
*In the fields herds collide,
as Chaos, Eros, Geron, Adonai,
War portends a losing side?
The cheering throngs cast coronae...*
*Eleven steers to sacrifice,
go they do to God.
The ritual structure to suffice,
Violent nature absorbed by sod.*
BULL *
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 7:54 PM UTC
Before I knew it I darted towards her like a train.
Barreling toward her fast as I could.
Inhaling deep, releasing deep huff.
The rumble of what came to be manifested before I was seen.
The notion of steam clouds and rod hot like iron.
Darting past the station.
Caution thrown to the wind in a solid fluid motion.
The rumble of my heart lead the way.
Stead fast, the scenery of steeping in front of emotion.
Track after track.
Winding and twisting with nothing to block the way.
I shot into a tunnel.
Stepping head first into what I have always known.
The express route to desire.
To inhale in ultimate asphyxiation.
The next station miles and miles away.
We were punctual.
Breaking down in deep huff.
Trails of smoke funnel where I lost my breath
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
you're my stone house.
No matter how much I
huff and puff
you'll continue to stand there
always welcoming me in.
Jan 13, 2022
Jan 13, 2022 at 9:13 PM UTC
Numbing pain; headache tablets full in a mouth,
speedy replies, and local loves. I love the rush.
I broke my heart for a crush.
Reminder: life is a little too
rough.
But I'm acting tough, close to the lines of messing up.
Always about to cuss. I swore it was the last,
but that's just a whispering bluff.
Enough of myself, too full of
myself every time I
laugh.
I spend hours thinking about random stuff; to huff
and puff, and blow away my best love. And we
both love spending hours talking about
some random
stuff.
She's had enough, with pure innocence of a dove.
And I'm the one sinning on her behalf. She's the
better half; but still a kid at heart, acting
tough. She's a calf, domesticated from
her wild love from her
past.
We're tragically in love, not from above or succumbs;
pushing time into each other, as it will shove.
Holding necks with a love glove, it has me
so choked up. In the first line of
love being a
drug.
Jun 6, 2022
Jun 6, 2022 at 3:00 PM UTC
Tossing and turning
Heavy breathing,
Tears of frustration.
Screaming at my brain
To dismiss, erase, forget
All memories of you.
But it rebels
Like a stubborn teenager
It eyes me
In a huff, says,
"No!"
And proceeds to
Replay
Those moments
Over and over again.
My exasperation
Soon turns into
Sadness, despair, misery
Knowing that
It's all gone.
Forgetting you
Why can't it be easy?
Like how dried leaves
Are swept by the breeze
Into the river
And float away to
The point of no return.
Feeding myself
Thoughts of how
It's hopeless
Just doesn't work.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
**We are a funny lot
As in, seriously… we delve into ‘funny’ a lot
Very rarely does a day go by
That I don’t come across something that cracks my funny bone…
Or as a Kenyan would put it ‘makes me just die!’
Body bag
The Kenyan
This specimen of human is always quick and capable of ridiculing anyone’s apparent "swag"
Everyone gets a turn here… so do not huff when you’re ‘it’
There must be a reason you joined this dissing game… this unique Kenyan version of ‘tag’
Just remember
The rules are simple, really
Keep it above the belt, unless upon exception...
They also clearly allow one to feign concession
Yes, these rules highly encourage strategic deception
Kind of like what our politicians do before the main election
But also if you paint a target on your back… you will get shot at...
By everyone… and I mean everyone
I haven’t seen anyone do that and elude the social media firing squad yet
Computers and phones in this case, acting as the internet's version of the bayonet
And watch closely if you’re ‘it’… for the inevitable, the friends that will stab you in the back
It’s bound to happen, as much as this may ****
The memes will come by the truck load… in what may seem like a self driven truck…
With a life of its own
Just ask Susan Mirfat
The most recently owned!
We’re a funny lot I tell you
Loose cannons almost
Our leaders’ shenanigans, our parents’ semantics and our own clownish antics…
Prove that despite…
How mature as a country we've become…
We’re still all just a bunch of children, inside.**
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
My brothers dog is a naughty boy
he chews on the furniture, and destroys his toys
the chap can even open the bread bin
scoffing all that is contained within
My brother did say, just the other day
with a huff and a puff in somewhat dismay
that he had caught his crafty mutt licking
the board that he chops his food on
He had wondered why it always kept clean
now he knows, all is not always what it seems
Yet my brother loves that puppy
and together they are so very happy
but he is a rowdy little sod
is my brothers naughty dog
By Christos Andreas aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 11:07 AM UTC
I sit on my toilet seat,
legs uncrossed but guts wrenching at 5km/hr speed,
staring at the blood stained ******* by my feet,
wondering why merely being a woman makes me bleed.
"Shame, shame, shame", they huff,
as if being a woman was not a burden enough.
Bleeding in shame is now considered religious,
no matter how natural,
For us, 'the time of the month' is never auspicious.
I sit on my toilet seat,
with sore thighs and a pungent stench in the loo,
wondering if it would be as shameful
If men bled the same way as women do.
(M.I.)
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 2:49 AM UTC
Nothing matters,
Faster, Faster,
I pedal away,
To a bright new day.
Gives me wings to fly,
Every terrain I want to try,
Also chase the blue sky.
With the fresh open air,
As it messes with my hair,
I cycle everywhere,
In the woods, on a street or cycle track,
Here, there and back,
Up the hill I huff and puff,
Going up is tough.
Oh,what freedom!
Like the joy of stardom,
My mind crystal clear,
Lots I discover as my bike I steer.
Round and round the wheels go,
In the sun, rain or snow,
Every moment I relish,
Never to end I wish.
18/11/2019.
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 6:35 AM UTC
she lieth clay, huff fled, withdrawn;
sun sleeps unturned, no lilt, no dawn.
the child stands silent, priests deceive,
she lingers not, the Lord won’t breathe.
they spake of light, of rule, of psalm,
yet death embraced what once was warm.
he looked and found the flesh laid bare;
at last he grasped, God was not there.
Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 3:16 PM UTC
Autumn is a teenager
who paints the leaves
rebellious colours
and throws them down
in a huff of cool wind.
She doesn't like when
people call her Autumn.
She prefers her nickname
Fall, because that's what she makes the
leaves do as she passes by.
Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 11:54 AM UTC
“Amanda,” she said, in a bold assertion
“We really are the same
Person.” Limp in the dew and
Wise like a sage, no wound cut
No blood shed, yet,
There was something this
Bandage shut,
Something yawning, gaping
But I don’t know what…
How sad! She’s crying, that Amanda,
Shrugging ‘gainst the colic rain
And almost lost in the copes-y veranda,
Weeping softly on
Those concrete flats, wearing “Red Tom’s
And” both “Dating Matts” while
I saw her fear in that moment, appalling, stalling
With soroitous heart, “and fear of falling!”
Binding them tightly: “That’s US haha!”
How many laughs does a limp spirit draw?
—(a disparaged few or none at all…)
Still, she writes, “I am so glad” (a huff annoyed
From Amanda, distant and sad, that I
Can’t tell why “you” ever “joined.”)
But this is not my place, a passerby,
To pick up trash, inane and lonely,
To cast my judgments and inquire—why?
To heal the unbroken with words unspoken
But scratched on refuse, she may
“[heart] you” but refuse you, too
The spirit of [heart] in Amanda awoken
—(But she refused it, too!)
And then be a token
Some stranger takes home.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
A pale homemade dress hung to dry in the blazing sun;
It's original color not quite clear but presumably purple.
That stain that never faded, a spot of innocence...
I closed my eyes and remembered the night she wore it,
Childlike with that smile of hers.
He threw promises of love and eternal bliss;
She believed his words and followed him to the train-yard.
An invisible moon hovered over them as they entered
An old rusted cart, abandoned for years and years.
He didn't bother taking her dress off,
She couldn't wait to feel loved.
Right there beneath a dark sky, a man stole a girl's innocence.
But how can love find it's way through the Cairo Slums?
Where human lay on top of another, like cracked bricks;
They bleed.
A grayish sleeveless undershirt hung to dry in the blazing sun,
It's original color not quite clear but presumably white.
That rip that was never mended, a tear of hope...
I closed my eyes and remembered that morning he wore it,
As he maneuvered through downtown traffic
Trying to make easy money, as ordered by his jobless father.
A child of seven or eight running around with beads of
Sweat rolling down his tiny face.
Mr. Policeman grabbed him by his shirt, slapped him around,
Beat him to the ground for approaching Mrs. Businesswoman in
Her air-conditioned car.
But how can this child find hope for the future in the Cairo Slums?
Where human lay on top of another, like cracked bricks;
They bleed.
Let me take you down to the Cairo Slums,
Where people are animals in their nests
Of carton-paper, waiting for the big bad wolf,
To huff and to puff and to blow their lives away.
But soon you'll realize that evil's not born but raised,
That hate is brewed, and money is everything.
Let us disregard this urban jungle under a glass jar,
Let us use them for advertising or marketing our products,
Products they could never afford.
O' what irony, what strife.
The girl and the child never had a chance,
but they deserve one.
They bleed.
They bleed.
So without further a adieu,
Welcome to the Cairo Slums.
Oct 25, 2011
Oct 25, 2011 at 12:21 PM UTC
Whistling through your teeth
What a nice body I have? What a beautiful face I have?
Wolves are always hunting but
I'm not 11, 16, 17 anymore
I'm not little red riding hood and
I will draw blood before you
Don't call me anything you wouldn't want to hear your mother called
Private playground
Trespassers shot on sight
Animals like you are hunted by girls - no
by women like me
My conviction rate is 100 percent these days
Wolf, one day you'll prey on the wrong princess
You can't huff and puff
Blow down a castle
Animals like you rot in cages
(B.N)
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
My love you taught me how to love
Feeling of love, that this heart showed
How many colors you spill, of love?
Reason for my love, you then asked?
Without you this life is so incomplete
Now when I realize how far away love was
Sheltering me in your heart such a treat
As beads of love strung tenderly in gauze
At times self-love seeks love from a stranger
At times a few moment with a loving heart is enough
At times to feel a heart dearer one has to live farther
In serendipity we met in love, leave me never in a huff
Think and despair not my cherished beloved
Must I say your love was so wondrous
I promise to be with you now and always beloved
You asked, I say all your concerns are needless
---
Hindi LanguageTranslation
Mere Humdum..
Pyaar aapne hume karna jo siklaya
Pyaar ka ehsas is dil ko jo diklaya
Kitne pyaar ke rang chalkathe hain aap?
Phir Pyaar ki vajah poochate hain aap?
Yeh zindagi to aapke bina adhuri thi
Ab maalum hua pyaar thak kitni doori thi
Aashiyana aapne dil mein basa kar hume diya hai
Pyaar ke har lamahe chun ke is dil ko piroya hai
Khud ko chaahne ke liye kabhi gairon ka pyaar chahiye
Dil ki nazdhikyon ke liye kabhi dooriyon ka ehsas chahiye
Kabhi chand lamhay kaafi hain aap jaise dil walon ke saath
Ittifaaq se milay ** meharbaan kabhi na chodna mera haath
Bus Itna ab na sochiye mere jane-mehboob
Dekhiye pyar kiya aapne bhi bahut khoob
Zindagi aapke saath vada hai mere hum-safar
Har sawalon ka jawab diya humnay aap rahe be-fikar
Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 8:08 PM UTC
Jellyfish in the dock
Quietly guarding his spot
An intruder drifts by
With a challenging eye
So he gives him all that he's got
The quarrel to settle
He showed him his mettle
Caressed him all over
With arms like a nettle
The stranger acts tough
Calling his bluff
Hanging around in a bit of a huff
He drifted off, he'd shown him what's what
There was no doubt who was king of the dock-
It was one of his better exchanges
But he thought how strange for a fish,
To have tattooed on his chest
Good food costs less at Sainsburys
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
where were you when I came out?
seventeen
asleep in a Philadelphia suburb
with that man
you called
boytoy
lover
caccoon
because everyone likes to feel weeks of web
crystallized between their sweaty toes
I was an unremarkable specimen
called yoda because of the hairs
on my ears
a baby with a flawless twenty digits and
hands like a
painter’s
but love was spring
and had to wait for the grass to green
and the retrievers to shed their
winter coats
so their owners could curse
and huff
and sneeze
you
precious
Kurt Cobain fan
and all things hip/hop
with those glasses and that hair
asked to be my sister
but caught unaware
with **** in your shorts because
you never saw me coming
and
how alike we were
and
what if we met
somewhere
someday
and you said
yes
this is my brother
this is the one who I lost
in the spring
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 3:12 PM UTC
My ***** Lover
Irrationality always wins
Chicago is aspirated beast
Braggart forced laugh
I had a vision but I have no vision
Dreamed I was making out with a woman
Who had long stretchy pink octopus tentacles
Sedulously legato ephemera
Growing from external rim of ******
Sobriquet inimical desiccation
One tentacle wrapped around and tickled
Diurnal nugatory verisimilitude
While other squeezed testicles
What was I talking about, oh yes
Everything got out of hand
Expect unthinkable gusting winds
To huff puff blow house down
Filthy rotten scoundrel but
Started out so sweet
Inchoate caliphate apocryphal
Wish I had her gift
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
even teddy said i got the sickest tricks brah.
like my abilities source from some kinda legendary liquid
/ praise the lord /
monster energy should sponsor me.
a kickflip over the king’s *** hole
& a halfcab for the looky-loos.
i feel so tall when i climb that heap of asphalt trimmings
& see clear from the water tower to the bluffs.
gimme a good day, any day at the bluffs,
bottlerockets & girly birds.
her body brings a swarm of worms.
decomp,
said the f.b.i. men one by one with tweezers.
not quite the homecoming queen, still
wrapped in plastic.
look up.
see that great mess of wires, nest of powerlines and owl bones?
it crackles and croons its electro-spectral purr
all night and day.
new neck tat &
cody spends his paycheck on a crossbow.
we target practice on a bull skull.
wet cigarettes and turpentine-soaked socks for a good huff
in the dry of the roofline as it dumps.
there’s that little boy in a ghost mask again, tap-dancing
in puddles below the streetlamp,
& oversized shoes.
his grandmoms always be watchin’ from the window.
[whispers] she’s teaching him magic.
lucky unit 19: where our young dead damsel once dolled
herself up, you see
men and headlights would roll thru thrice nightly,
maybe more.
& i remember her punch red lips &
big whicker hat; while she weeded and watered her garden of begonias.
the sheriff’s deputy, hart? hicks? hogan? well he loved her a bunch.
stole her clothes in the middle of the night,
& sat beside the river sobbing into clumped fists
of bra and blouse.
i bought ******* from that guy once or twice.
harold? howard?
guess who showed his face today?
josiah, from unit 08.
since the incident with molly’s beagle, he’s been rarely seen.
took a bee line straight for the mailbox.
a package. a prize. a decoder ring/secret map sweepstakes
to be seen and deciphered.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC