"humph" poems
All is NOT well in the grasslands.
The animals are fit to be tied.
The actions of the crafty wolves
Have left the rest of them horrified.
"How will we EVER be able
To keep democracy afloat,"
The antelope asked, "if the wolves
Don't allow us all to vote?
"In many sections of these grasslands,
Shameless wolves are doing their best
To hold voter registration
Hostage, keeping voters suppressed."
"They aim to control voter turnout,"
The deer added. "That's their hope.
Their sneaky ways to manipulate
Elections push the envelope!
“They stall and seek petty reasons
To take names off voting lists.
Fair and honest elections are
In jeopardy if this persists.”
"It's so close to election day,
Our courts are reluctant to raise objections,"
The buffalo said. "Some of the wolves
Are even running in the elections!
"Humph! They stole a Supreme Court justice.
Then they rammed another one through.
Now they're still suppressing voters.
What more damage will they do?"
"Winnowing down voter rolls!
Their strategies should be illegal!"
The fox chimed in. Looking around,
He asked, "Where is our dear friend Eagle?"
The absent eagle wanted no
Responsibility tied to her name.
She couldn't stop the out-of-control
Wolves, and hid her head in shame.
-by Bob B (10-19-18)
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
A gray hippo lived in the zoo
It was so stressful it turned him blue
The Giraffes laughed at his skin so blue
That only made him bluer times two
Now the Lion was wise but a little slow
That's why he wound up as the star of the show
He and Hippo were playing a game of solitaire
While the Lion played fleas were biting him everywhere
Hippo ate chocolate cake
That the tourist threw over the gate
Wise old Lion said ,
"You better watch your weight
Your getting a little thick in the hip ."
"Humph !" , said Hippo ,
"Why do you think they call us
Hip-po-pot-a-mus ."
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:47 PM UTC
A yo Shawty,
You is lookin fine, fine, fine
Humph
Like a crisp hundred dollar bill on da sidewalk
Found between paychecks. Fine.
Lookin like that Queen off in my dreams
So I be real when I step to you
Wussup, whut yo name is, whus yo phone number?
A yo Shawty,
If I gotta, I’m a steal you from somebody.
I mean some ***** gon be ******
Cuz you gon be my special dish
Shawty ya look good
Got those legs that
Mad David Ruffin not too proud to beg.
I wann know whut’s behind those eyes that hypnotize.
Whut’s in yo head?
A yo Shawty,
Is you gotta mind to go wit yo
Fine, fine, fine, super fine ***
I see you got class. Physical beauty surpass
Named after a month cuz the thought of you last
For mo days than the rains of Noah
God couldn’t destroy this place ‘til he made yo face
I’m down fo the chase let’s run dis race.
A yo Shawty
Yeah you
Tongue ring and accessories
Make me wanna catch yo disease
I wanna inhale what you exhale
Taste whut you smell
My idea of Hell is you not by my side
A yo Shawty
I shall provide
That fire fo you to ride
I ain’t givin you no cheese
But together we can make Swiss cheese, American and cheddar
In memory of you no falsified lines
That month befo summer and at de end of spring
A yo Shawty
Let’s get togever and do da right thing.
Like a fat *** Spike Lee Joint
Roll up dat bubonic sticky green chronic
And let’s pull together
Get close like crystal when we toast
Every anniversary Cristol in the crystal
We boast that I’m yours and you is mine
A yo Shawty
You lookin
Fine, fine, fine.
Hmph.
Like a crisp hundred dollar bill on da sidewalk
Found between paychecks.
Fine.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 9:46 AM UTC
She said ,"If you don't love me any more I'd understand ."
WHAT ?
WHAT !
I wouldn't understand if I didn't love you !
Love you forever !
Humph ! Here I wake up thinking about your ******* , while they may be small I'm sure they are large in enthusiasm . And I would like to kiss them to find out .
Ummmmmmmm ! . . . yes they do taste good . And they vibrate with life , teasing my lips with a tingling sensation that causes me to lick my lips , wanting more .
And now you say I don't love you ?
Nor would it surprise you if I didn't ?
You must be the ballerina who tiptoes through life to the applause and adulation of a cheering mass only to doubt it's sincerity .
Oh me ! My manners have flown the nest !
Good morning ! How are you !
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 7:15 PM UTC
Opossum's in Vermont, Humph.
Ain't no kitty,
looks like Global Warming doesn't it?
Yup, it sure does poet.
Cherie Nolan© 2016
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
opening up an eclectic ruddy random selection of books to the sound of classical concerto dimmed to 'whelming' (neither under nor overwhelming), is like entering point after point to perspective to new brain after old brain after subject to object to alluvit, the few, the many-- 'on July 21st, 1936, Lockheed test pilot Elmer C. McLeod, with Amelia as copilot, took the new Electra up for its first official flight..' 'This is the picture of the Djinn making the beginnings of the Magic that brought the Humph to the Camel..' 'A block away from the museum doors, the guards still follow us, until a new group of guards from the next building has us under surveillance..' 'More and more, I suspect that Buddhists and shamans are correct..' 'I liked Bloodworth and in the spring we were going to play outfield together on that Lowell team, he whose name for years had mystified me when I saw it in Lowell High and Lowell Twi League boxscores-' 'if the world at large found it impossible to believe the truth of the Holocaust, even when provided with incontrovertible proof, Berliners presented with piecemeal evidence, rumour and hearsay were bound to dismiss such talk as enemy propaganda, or perverted fantasy. As Ursula Von Kardoff recalled after the war: 'we were realistic and pessimistic. But Auschwitz?'- '"Twenty-five centavos."
"Twenty-five centavos," repeated the Syrian in a firm voice with almost no accent.'--
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
The wind blows a cool breeze speaking a language that I can only hope to understand
The sun shines through the barriers of leaves cascading down to hold me tightly, comfortably
The foliage steady underneath my unsteady feet promises to give me balance
The water buries the sand pulling it back into line always returning it safely home
A soft creature appears from behind the green wall crouching curiously in fear, denial
Unable to speak like the wind it simply blinks, both yellow eyes; once, twice, three times
The long fur covering it's body blows with the western breeze head tilted towards the east
It rises on two feet; remains stationary, despite the wind pushing it back
An array of colours catches light from the creature; yellow eyes, purple fur, black teeth
The deflection of colours creates a rainbow around the creature; a force field
It casts no shadow despite the downward sun trying its hardest to expose the creature
The array of colours surrounds the creature fading away with the sun behind the leaves.
The foliage struggles against its foot moving forward in a staggering motion as if they were glued
Fallen leaves crumble underneath its feet and flowers rot to a bruised purple
Like quicksand the ground tries to swallow the creature, hold it still despite its strength
Quicksand is not quick enough, the creature shuffles through the dying foliage
The water retreats, taking the sand with it, gathering as large an army as possible
The creature continues forward, the water continues back as far as it can before returning to shore
They meet in an unwelcome collision the water trying to push the creature back, unsuccessful
The creature emerges from the water droplets of water being repelled from its fur
The wind changes direction pointing at me whispering words of caution whispering, yelling
The sunlight illuminates me, sweat drips down my face like tears as if to say: hide
The ground shakes and trembles beneath my feet urging me to move, keep moving
The water reaches for me with open arms to hide in amongst the sand, to return safely
The creature spots me; staring unflinchingly, it stares back into my eyes with yellow ones
It's fur directing it towards me urges it onward dragging it alongside the cool breeze
It's feet start toward me slowly as the trembling ground regains its posture so does it
I stand in awe of this beautiful creature, so frightful so delicate aiming for me
"Humph" the sound of it colliding with me is carried away with the wind, long gone
The sun gleams off its black teeth blinding me before I feel it rip into my neck tearing flesh
The green, brown, purple ground lay stained with my blood dripping from its mouth
The incoming tide holds my hand one last time as the creature drags me back behind the green wall
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
So I hear,
just today,
in fact,
I'm not certain exactly when it was said,
a reliable source,
NPR,
So, I hear that great wall,
the BIG & beautiful one
on our Southern border,
the one HE wanted to build?
The one he raged about,
& of course,
while it was always preposterous,
Anyway he says,
It can maybe be a fence,
instead.
Oh my ***
Huh, interesting,
Well, that's not wishy washy,
No,
At all...
solid guy, he is,
& along with all the other rapidly,
changing things,
that he was so very,
passionate about,
And given,
the absolute myriad of obstacles,
from forcing Mexico to pay,
(haha- good one)
yeah,
making Mexico pay,
sure,
By the way,
do you want to work for his immigration?
Cuz' he's gonna need a bunch of new
recruits,
if so,
Not to mention,
workers to survey & complete,
that ridiculous project,
the complex geological complications,
in an interesting terrain,
humph,
indeed,
& the endless wordly implications,
that and so MANY other problems
we face,
far worse,
& BIGGER ones too,
Seriously,
check it out,
it would literally take,
FOREVER to build,
true narcissism,
exists,
apparently,
Though,
he might have single-handedly stopped illegal immigration by being elected.
Mission accomplished?
Do you wanna come live in the U.S. now?
Hahaha,
So stupid,
not REALLY funny,
still good to laugh,
This?
This is who we elected?
were we ALL high,
on propaganda?
God help us in times of war.
Cherie Nolan © 2016
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 1:01 PM UTC
The suburban housewives are all prostitutes
Cuckoo CUCKOO cuckoo
Sings the cuckolded husband
Bury the demons in the backyard Jack
Decomposing rotting souls
Enriching the soil
Get rich without any toil.
Step
outside
A glance to the heavens
From the floors of our forest
Reveals many a distant star
Symbolizing neither near or far
This twinkling image destroys the ego
Although in this here woodland
Anything goes
We are the kings of our times, the last of our kings, and the future creators.
The truth only goes as far as the rocks thrown
So I asked the reapers which way to go.
Take a trip with me down memory lane.
My past has no real pain
HUmph - no thank you I would not like any fame
I really have nothing to gain but catharsis
So please don’t call me an artist.
Please call me the man who could not deal with beauty and treachery of life so he wrote after lusting for natures delights.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 3:59 PM UTC
as space sufficiently expresses, or succinctly paraphrases with the concerns for time: or hue, or suntan, or baritone hummed weakening into a humph... crazy-bone etc.; sometimes poetry is so much more than the usurping of onomatopoeia... life is the essence of being timed, but that's hardly the essence in the space we occupy - over-versed thinking never formalised toward an outer-reaching imagination that might become copper-raindrops' worth of Disney, or a way memory is made adaptive to cure dementia... yes, space is the essential component for the compartment of life... i believe time has no place in what's to be called life, i believe time exists, but on an Olympic scale, in the metres and millimetres, on the minutes and seconds scales... space is the essence of life: so diverging from known apparatus to unknown operations, thus so diverging from known operations to unknown apparatus... and so on and so forth, until dinosaurs roar and we merely say: yawn - arrogant in our guise.
true, space devalues time; as said the people between us who we never had a meal with, but had the crazed look of craving an unnecessary contentment with despair. can i guess at something? i like your alphabetical onomatopoeia, i.e. pun for knocking, a sorta p p p / b b b, not necessarily needing the suffix for rhyme, why is it that poetry requires the echo, why not rhyme upfront? anyway... but it's there, that alphabetical onomatopoeia... a repeating of the first letter, like opening an oyster... which contradicts the orthodox methodology of rhyme... meaning that there's a repeated seance of an opening... which (although alphabetically staged to a prevailing repeat) equips the reader with many more surprising alternations - basically you begin with what rhymes alphabetically, but not necessarily phonetically: the lost suffix -ing via i had a cat called blinding, and he said all things were shining... one of your poems enabled me to spot this reversal of poetic orthodoxy, in that the rhyme became less musicological, and more rubric enlisting a coherent schema, such as a list... or rhyme via propped first, and cascading into oblivion, never really minding the waggling tail of a bouncy-ball of accepted verse. aardvark and acupuncture... the rhyme begins with A, and ends as it should end, diverging, so there's no feel for a repeat akin to drum or rhythmic bass... otherwise: shout an A into a cave and hear an echo... that's what poetry is damnably worthy to congest one's thinking with... don't rhyme: echo! and ensure that echo is alphabetical rather than musicological. perchance lessened talk, i too would have revised this example with some worthy emoticon.
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
Do I inspire or am I dire?
Amusing or just boring.
Oh humph you say and turn away
Good gracius, are you snoring?
I really thought that you would have
a little understanding-but all you say is go away
and don't be so demanding!
If that's the case old funny face,
there will be no nights of passion,
until your churlish ways improve
in a politer fashion!
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
You have brought so many tests, trials, and distractions
Trying to turn me away from my God, my purpose, and passion
You have even tried using the people I love as a device
To speak words of doubt and death over my life.
You must don't know who you are messing with,
So I'm here to tell you that I don't give up and quit.
I am a child of the King, He is the Most High God
He's the Alpha and the Omega so He's the one who has my heart.
He is the Greater One who is living on the inside of me,
The Only True and Living God with whom I will spend eternity.
There is nothing you can do or say that will turn or shake me
From trusting and believing in the One that created me.
I serve you this notice as a reminder
And I hope you hear me and hear me clearly....
Your plan to steal, **** and destroy me....(humph)
Has already been exposed by the One who made me
So go get your life and draw up a new strategy
Because I know in the end......I WIN!
Written by: Luwarner T. Moore
03/30/2016
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 10:21 AM UTC
One shale not live while the other survives
One can only live with knives
One is good one is bad
Whoever is closer to your dad
Dont let their looks desive you
As many people do
For you never will know
Now you must go
Only one will triumph
Don't ever humph
The other will go to hell
hearing never the sound of a bell
Returning only when beckoned
Ring the bell for only a second
They will come with a ******
For who read this first
For you will have nobles
But shale secretly give this to the other
It will be a sister or a brother
Then fend for your life
Within your hand a Knife
For one must die
So one may live
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the **** of this guy
which bout with ****** obstruction
found me doubled over
with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil,
which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product
didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
to cease livingsocial would try
humph enjoining
this lvii year old married male
to cede victory
to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure
to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out
five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction
of former thought to cease existing,
though a non-bull lever
in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last
provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes
his recurring pain in the *** jagged torture
and asks
a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 3:13 PM UTC
The poem was titled
"Why did you leave me?"
Another boo hoo love gone wrong poem
I said to myself ,
"Let me see I'm sure it goes like this":
Woke up fell out of bed (Beatles)
"All by myself" "Céline Dion"
"I can't live if living is without you" (Bee Gees)
Yeah , I can smell the classic heartbreak song like a skunk hit by a Mac truck
And what's worse is the people who will ogle over it and praise it saying :
"I so relate to this poem"
"Thank you for sharing "
adding to another collection !
Humph !
I'm lucky .
All my broken hearts came cheap .
No bomb exploding inside inside the house blowing away half the family .
No children drowned crossing the sea .
No wife sacrificing herself for her family .
No I was lucky
Just girls and women dumping me
because I had to work on weekends
Or I smacked my lips while eating
Or the ever used , no reason at all
Yeah , they left with everything intact
No blown up house
No babies lying on a beach
Everything intact but my sanity
For two cents you can have that
Maybe I will read that poem anyway
Every breakup is unique
And real
Just maybe it will touch my soul
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 4:01 AM UTC
Me and the Hawk are poor poets. We also are or were somewhat hopeless drinkers. He'd get mad at me just because I liked to laugh. The bar scene was no place for mirth when Hawk had the blues.
So I show him my poem...
Full of mirth
What is it worth
A smile that beguiles
That is worth while
Joke and laugh
Whole or half (giggle)
Can't you try to see
Better than quivery misery
Yes a belly laugh
Whole or half
Makes you feel so free.
Hawk says, "Humph." He shows me his poem as Hawk is a bit of a writer too.
The Worth Of My Birth
The worth of my birth
Means nothing to me
I have wasted time
And not done a good job
Of living & loving
It all weighs so heavy
On my tortured mind
I close with the poem EXPECTATIONS...
Expectations are the greatest things
They fool you. They rule you.
You live for the next time
To be sublime in the knowledge
You've done well
Those pitfalls that prey on your past
Will never last
If you achieve and believe
I can do this again.
Hawk and me smile and drink our drinks.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 2:44 PM UTC
less than twenty four hours after dashing off a poem
explaining why i wanted to die
found me experiencing physical duress vis a vis,
a bowel movement wherein waste unable to expel
from the **** of this guy
which bout with ****** obstruction
found me doubled over
with lower abdominal distress
whereby comfort found me unable to lie
down nor sit upright (with back padded with pillows
against the cellar brick wall),
thus severe bloating a bonus well nigh
and managed to muster the means to bare
frigid arctic vortex aire to purchase
the Acme brand Metamucil,
which akin to drano doth ply
thru the excretory tract
supposedly loosening the stools,
which optimism (product
didst earn claim to fame) generated a sigh
if that expressed intent
to cease livingsocial would try
humph enjoining
this lvii year old married male
to cede victory
to the grim reaper, who would vie
as winner de jure
to this common fellow invoking libretto
ohm resistant understudy waste not want not
allowing, enabling and providing relief,
without successful defecation
despite the oppressive urge to bolster this uriah
heap of balled up and tuckered i.e. pooped out
five foot and ten inches of lovely bones
thence mouthing retraction
of former thought to cease existing,
though a non-bull lever
in any power broker qua mankind
relief at long last
provided posterior answered prayer
yet, this scrivener scrutinizes
his recurring pain in the *** jagged torture
and asks
a rhetorical one word question "WHY"?
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 12:58 AM UTC
ooh, but when you mention cultural violence,
go right at the core with schismatic Islam
of Iran, you suddenly encounter a ******* turtle-shell
in the west, the west just says:
we can sacrifice a few slugs rampant in their
drunken wisdom - we can have a bomb in
Paris... a London pompom craze for
Venetian voodoo opening and closing the gateway
to hell immediate... we just can't have
a freedom of language! we can't have freedom
of language! we can master freedom of speech,
**** yeah! we can master that for sure...
but we're sorta boggled up when we see writing
and can't differentiate freedom of language
from freedom of speech... esp. given the internet,
it's mind-boggling, we're talking the theory
of relativity here? i'm with the schismatics of Iran
on this one... i'm no Homer... but i can sniff
a dog's ******** of appreciation for licking
them / saying them that is in full: concerto,
rather than some: mm, i'm loving it
child molestation:
i swear! is swear! Cabaret Voltaire made me do it!
they told me to rationalise them into eloquent speech...
**** knows who the clown is... you bring him along?
so, what, the, **** is, he, doing, in, our audience?!
might as well asked the whole of Kremlin to
bring their ****** shooting croons to intercept a
bogus Basildon sex-text to smoke out the paedophiles
of Westminster doing a river dance...
but you know... you know... i've seen only three
ballets... but you know what i'd really love to see?
(pork snout humph snigger)... ballerinas doing the
**** goose march... HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
i swear you could just tickle those feet up in the
air fluttering like butterflies to do, just that.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
Dear friend,
I've missed you. It seems like we haven't interacted since before I arrived here. I want to see you, but I know our next time together will be our last. I've always wondered, why do so many fear you? Good men understand you, come to peace with you, but most act like you're a monster. Humph. Just know... I don't fear you. I see you for who you are. You welcome us back. You take us in with open arms. You might be seeing me anytime... My dear friend Death.
With love,
Mike
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC