"ooey" poems - Hello Poetry

Stick straight trees line hills, their arrangement phony less than 5,000 feet in elevation but elevating humanity for over sixty thousand. For more than sixty thousand human beings, think of fish stuck, are stampeded by shiny black blocks of detonation. Explosion for extraction, and teeny tiny port-o-potties sit, enjoying relaxation where an ecosystem once enjoyed rehabilitation after March. We Marched on, up a gravel hill where wind blew but we bolted our boots to the soil. Sunglass-clad woman concealed her hurt eyes, but her voice hurt enough to inspire a kind of throat retching sensation. ***** up that black, ooey-gooey you old, weathered mountain top. Explosives like a firm finger shoved down the throat denote a rock spew; regurgitate and repeat a dozen times over. Flatten and deform, never to reform the water-giving, life-renewing, shady shelter, stable stool, magic majesty of my mountain.

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Mar 8, 2014

Mar 8, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC

madeleine-toerne

Mountain Puke

Stick straight trees line hills, their arrangement phony less than 5,000 feet in elevation but elevating humanity for over sixty thousand. For more than sixty thousand human beings, think of fish stuck, are stampeded by shiny black blocks of detonation. Explosion for extraction, and teeny tiny port-o-potties sit, enjoying relaxation where an ecosystem once enjoyed rehabilitation after March. We Marched on, up a gravel hill where wind blew but we bolted our boots to the soil. Sunglass-clad woman concealed her hurt eyes, but her voice hurt enough to inspire a kind of throat retching sensation. ***** up that black, ooey-gooey you old, weathered mountain top. Explosives like a firm finger shoved down the throat denote a rock spew; regurgitate and repeat a dozen times over. Flatten and deform, never to reform the water-giving, life-renewing, shady shelter, stable stool, magic majesty of my mountain.

20

I do like him and that’s a fact. I like who he is and his looks are simply an additional thing that can be appreciated. He is kind and I like that. I like the way he walks, and talks, and does everything. His eyes. Holy moly. His eyes. I hate to be cliche and all, but sometimes that’s what the world needs to hear about, those utterly cliche moments. To be completely honest I’ve liked him since the moment I met him; the very moment I saw him. There was something about him that entranced me. I don’t know what that thing was, but it has haunted me. Now we are friends, but something deep down in me has always been drawn to him. I enjoy seeing him…when I do. I wish I could see him more. Truthfully though I denied my gut feeling about him because I thought it was too soon for me to start liking someone. I buried what I felt and I settled for simple friendship, but every time I speak to him or honestly got the chance to look into his beautifully blue eyes (oh that sounds so ooey gooey and girly, but I can’t help it!) I am reminded of that first feeling I got when I met him. I don’t know of a word that describes exactly what I felt, but hopefully someday I’ll come across it or make one. For now I’ll have to compensate by using way too many short and unspecific words that fail terribly. I like him. I even remember the moment when it was cemented into my being (the fact that I liked him). We were talking about words and I told him my new favorite word that I had just figured out existed, psithurism. He shard his with me, sonder. He pulled a youtube video up explaining, in black and white, what sonder is. It’s beautiful. The fact that that it is his favorite word is beautiful. There was something special in that moment and it hit me. I just can’t. I can’t believe I was waiting my whole entire life for that moment. And now it is today and I haven’t done anything about it. About him and me. And I hate that. I hate that I’m not doing anything about it. I want to hear him talk all hours of the day and give him a hug just because I can. I want to curl up next to him on a couch and listen to him tell me how his day was. I want my hand to be the hand he wants to hold when his own has no where to rest. I want the chance to look into those blue eyes every day of my life. I want to know all of his favorite things. Sermonia (n), that’s the word, at least that’s what the feeling would sound like if I made it a one. Maybe someday I’ll admit to him that it is in fact my most favorite word. Psithurism, is great and all, but it fails in comparison to that feeling you get when you know you’ve met someone special.

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Dec 25, 2013

Dec 25, 2013 at 10:29 PM UTC

littledray

Sermonia....That Is What I Felt

I do like him and that’s a fact. I like who he is and his looks are simply an additional thing that can be appreciated. He is kind and I like that. I like the way he walks, and talks, and does everything. His eyes. Holy moly. His eyes. I hate to be cliche and all, but sometimes that’s what the world needs to hear about, those utterly cliche moments. To be completely honest I’ve liked him since the moment I met him; the very moment I saw him. There was something about him that entranced me. I don’t know what that thing was, but it has haunted me. Now we are friends, but something deep down in me has always been drawn to him. I enjoy seeing him…when I do. I wish I could see him more. Truthfully though I denied my gut feeling about him because I thought it was too soon for me to start liking someone. I buried what I felt and I settled for simple friendship, but every time I speak to him or honestly got the chance to look into his beautifully blue eyes (oh that sounds so ooey gooey and girly, but I can’t help it!) I am reminded of that first feeling I got when I met him. I don’t know of a word that describes exactly what I felt, but hopefully someday I’ll come across it or make one. For now I’ll have to compensate by using way too many short and unspecific words that fail terribly. I like him. I even remember the moment when it was cemented into my being (the fact that I liked him). We were talking about words and I told him my new favorite word that I had just figured out existed, psithurism. He shard his with me, sonder. He pulled a youtube video up explaining, in black and white, what sonder is. It’s beautiful. The fact that that it is his favorite word is beautiful. There was something special in that moment and it hit me. I just can’t. I can’t believe I was waiting my whole entire life for that moment. And now it is today and I haven’t done anything about it. About him and me. And I hate that. I hate that I’m not doing anything about it. I want to hear him talk all hours of the day and give him a hug just because I can. I want to curl up next to him on a couch and listen to him tell me how his day was. I want my hand to be the hand he wants to hold when his own has no where to rest. I want the chance to look into those blue eyes every day of my life. I want to know all of his favorite things. Sermonia (n), that’s the word, at least that’s what the feeling would sound like if I made it a one. Maybe someday I’ll admit to him that it is in fact my most favorite word. Psithurism, is great and all, but it fails in comparison to that feeling you get when you know you’ve met someone special.

2

Long trips totally call for trail mix But I'll take those tater tots and trix Too bad the TV is back in Amcher town Bagged burritos aren't my thing But those brownies bring a zing Chocolate covered Double dipped deep fried sugar glazed gooey ooey cheesy crust cut off with chips on the side and an extra large party family size bucket of bubble packed extra half and half double shot caramel frappucola And then the main course

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Feb 14, 2016

Feb 14, 2016 at 2:17 AM UTC

ChillyKoolaid

My trip to tiperytao: modest meals

Long trips totally call for trail mix But I'll take those tater tots and trix Too bad the TV is back in Amcher town Bagged burritos aren't my thing But those brownies bring a zing Chocolate covered Double dipped deep fried sugar glazed gooey ooey cheesy crust cut off with chips on the side and an extra large party family size bucket of bubble packed extra half and half double shot caramel frappucola And then the main course

7

It was the end of August and my words were taking flight Twisting into rhymes that danced with every ounce of thought running out of my mind And it's the end of December and my words are hiding out As they're stuck in a maze racing for anything and everything cheesy Because if you flip flop and rewind back to the height of September It was a mid summer romance that bound my words As things were heating up and taking awkward steps My mind thought of nothing but ooey gooey romantic bouts In a sleepless night I fell in love instead of falling to sleep As a mid October party running on stumbled feet and knocked over glasses I lost the room to the melody of your voice And I'll forever keep a video captured in my mind Cause as early January dawned I chase most yawns with a quick lip lock like I imagined while carefully watching you capture my interest And I hope as February hugs the romantics We'll find laughter in the hypocrisy of these love stories dancing with mediocrity And walk a pace a little different To the following months I can't write about because they exist as dreams That I could bring justice to with witnessing each individual scheme

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Jan 19, 2015

Jan 19, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC

linguistic-play

seasoning

It was the end of August and my words were taking flight Twisting into rhymes that danced with every ounce of thought running out of my mind And it's the end of December and my words are hiding out As they're stuck in a maze racing for anything and everything cheesy Because if you flip flop and rewind back to the height of September It was a mid summer romance that bound my words As things were heating up and taking awkward steps My mind thought of nothing but ooey gooey romantic bouts In a sleepless night I fell in love instead of falling to sleep As a mid October party running on stumbled feet and knocked over glasses I lost the room to the melody of your voice And I'll forever keep a video captured in my mind Cause as early January dawned I chase most yawns with a quick lip lock like I imagined while carefully watching you capture my interest And I hope as February hugs the romantics We'll find laughter in the hypocrisy of these love stories dancing with mediocrity And walk a pace a little different To the following months I can't write about because they exist as dreams That I could bring justice to with witnessing each individual scheme

19

I want the be soft edges melted down from the broken mirrors of my hallowed halls I want to be whisper touches and gentle words I want my smile to be bright, never faltering, and always knowing When the world is loud and the wind is howling out of control I want to be the quiet I don't want to fill the space with what I want you to see but with what I am But what I am is sharp teeth and prickly points with an ooey gooey center Words leave me feeling frozen when they slice through my warmest sweaters My knees click and clank together, faltering through every step like my legs are stone and the street, molasses I am Christmas songs in June staring you in the eye, begging you to tell me it's too early I poke at my own bruises and have the audacity to condemn you for reaching out with spindly fingers to poke them too I am also spiced gingerbread and hugs with too short of arms that seem to be able to hold you tight as if they're miles long I am built from fire, one shot of me will leave your ears burning My icicle veins have long since thawed leaving puddles deep enough for us to grab hands and jump into together Butterfly kisses and cornflake potatoes shaped this body standing before you My cells are made of crystals of sugar and tiny fireflies And my heart reaches towards the souls floating around me I am the good and the bad I am leftover ashes from fallen homes The longingness of nostalgia and the need for new adventure I cry for the weeds that are cut down along the road while my own hands are painted with the dirt that pulled out my own I am contradiction and balance I am a desire to be.

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Nov 18, 2017

Nov 18, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC

AndLifeWasLike

To Be Less And More

I want the be soft edges melted down from the broken mirrors of my hallowed halls I want to be whisper touches and gentle words I want my smile to be bright, never faltering, and always knowing When the world is loud and the wind is howling out of control I want to be the quiet I don't want to fill the space with what I want you to see but with what I am But what I am is sharp teeth and prickly points with an ooey gooey center Words leave me feeling frozen when they slice through my warmest sweaters My knees click and clank together, faltering through every step like my legs are stone and the street, molasses I am Christmas songs in June staring you in the eye, begging you to tell me it's too early I poke at my own bruises and have the audacity to condemn you for reaching out with spindly fingers to poke them too I am also spiced gingerbread and hugs with too short of arms that seem to be able to hold you tight as if they're miles long I am built from fire, one shot of me will leave your ears burning My icicle veins have long since thawed leaving puddles deep enough for us to grab hands and jump into together Butterfly kisses and cornflake potatoes shaped this body standing before you My cells are made of crystals of sugar and tiny fireflies And my heart reaches towards the souls floating around me I am the good and the bad I am leftover ashes from fallen homes The longingness of nostalgia and the need for new adventure I cry for the weeds that are cut down along the road while my own hands are painted with the dirt that pulled out my own I am contradiction and balance I am a desire to be.

24

Time is consuming time is valuable time is also a distraction time creates tension and worrysome while there is a way people can speed it up just not you a certain someone my certain someone turns years into months months to days days to hours talking to them for hours just feels like 10 minutes ten **** minutes. they've got me all around their finger lovesick all ooey-gooey I cant even say good bye without trying to keep them all to myself only to me mine mine only my favorite person is only mine.

0

Aug 29, 2024

Aug 29, 2024 at 11:38 AM UTC

maria-22

Time

Time is consuming time is valuable time is also a distraction time creates tension and worrysome while there is a way people can speed it up just not you a certain someone my certain someone turns years into months months to days days to hours talking to them for hours just feels like 10 minutes ten **** minutes. they've got me all around their finger lovesick all ooey-gooey I cant even say good bye without trying to keep them all to myself only to me mine mine only my favorite person is only mine.

21

whipped to a froth ooey gooey goodness sizzle and pop slowly heating and firming both sides fluffy mounds slowly drizzled silky sweet syrup my knife slowly penetrates melting butter runs I taste slowly now running down my cheeks sticky sweet deliciousness I go back for more

0

Aug 24, 2017

Aug 24, 2017 at 12:16 AM UTC

jed-johnson

Hot Cakes

whipped to a froth ooey gooey goodness sizzle and pop slowly heating and firming both sides fluffy mounds slowly drizzled silky sweet syrup my knife slowly penetrates melting butter runs I taste slowly now running down my cheeks sticky sweet deliciousness I go back for more

15

I never took the time to sit and think about an M&M. A chocolate that separates itself from the rest of the crew with its signature M. Your empty palms await the decadent little multi-colored buttons, Like they've always said, "melts in your mouth, not in your hands..." When you take a bite into the cherub chocolate, its sugar-coated shell cracks like the frozen arctic water. Exposing a sweet surprise. Children jump for joy when they see the candy, adults jump for joy too as their childhood is relived in every M&M. Pop em' in your mouth during lunch-break, share a few with your homegirl, grab a handful at a Halloween party. There's always a little surprise in every bite. Sometimes it's a dab of peanut butter or a crunch of peanuts. Maybe a salty bit of pretzel, or ooey-gooey caramel. Whatever it is, they're good for the soul, Your teeth won't be happy with you, though...

0

Feb 18, 2021

Feb 18, 2021 at 11:15 PM UTC

afropicasso

M&M's

I never took the time to sit and think about an M&M. A chocolate that separates itself from the rest of the crew with its signature M. Your empty palms await the decadent little multi-colored buttons, Like they've always said, "melts in your mouth, not in your hands..." When you take a bite into the cherub chocolate, its sugar-coated shell cracks like the frozen arctic water. Exposing a sweet surprise. Children jump for joy when they see the candy, adults jump for joy too as their childhood is relived in every M&M. Pop em' in your mouth during lunch-break, share a few with your homegirl, grab a handful at a Halloween party. There's always a little surprise in every bite. Sometimes it's a dab of peanut butter or a crunch of peanuts. Maybe a salty bit of pretzel, or ooey-gooey caramel. Whatever it is, they're good for the soul, Your teeth won't be happy with you, though...

18