Oohed poems on Hello Poetry

Danielle K Jun 2013

The sailor didn't know
much about the sea. In fact,
he knew nothing at all. But when
his little boy looked up at him with
admiration, how could he speak of
his failure to know his own profession?

With his son propped up on his lap,
he began to tell a tale of the vast seas
and the heavy gusts of wind that were
strong enough to throw a grown man
overboard. And as his boy oohed
and ahed, the sailor felt something
akin to guilty pride.

It's a shame he didn't
listen to his own storytelling, for
one day, it was his turn to be blown
away by the wind and swallowed up
by the sea.

D.K

c m Jun 2013

To be read on the cliffs of Dover before firing my ashes from a cannon (offshore wind)

You all know how I died,
And I do not.
But I hope it was a fantastic
Spectacle of how to make your heart stop.

I hope I died flying backwards
in a crimson ball of flame,
Or fighting off a tiger
that never could to tame.

I hope I died with a smile on my face,
Beaming from ear to ear,
Or laughing so that everyone around
Could hear.

I hope I died doing something
To which my mother always said “No”,
“But if we don’t try,
How will we ever know?”

I hope I died not waiting for
Air to no longer suffice,
Lying in a bed with a tube
In every orifice.

I hope you did not let me age
And forget you,
Because I would be
Filled with regret too.

So I hope it was a spectacular expression
Of more than just existing,
I hope they oohed and aahed while
I flew through the air a-twisting.

And I can see some of you are grieving,
yet I know not why,
Because this is a celebration of
Life having been lived
And not a sombre lullaby.

So fill your glasses,
Cups and jugs,
And let’s see a smile on those
Ugly old mugs.

There’s a lesson too be learned,
and that is clear to see.
So without much further ado,
“Here’s to me!”

ATC Apr 2015

describe someone as if they were a room in a house

You are an attic that my thoughts are still lost in.
Your mind is cluttered with ideas, kindness, secrets and confessions,
all covered under thick dusty blankets of bland conversations.
Every time the sun hit a part of your mind,
you revealed a memory and I like a child
oohed and ahhed at this over told story.

Despite the floorboards creaking “baby you don’t mean a thing” and dust lingering with the goodbye that will never be said,
it was my favorite place.

I would try bringing up my own newspaper clippings and photo albums but there never was enough room in this attic I suppose.

I remember one night I spotted poetry painted on the wall
hidden behind a pile of blankets and your record player voice cracked with the words ‘you're beautiful’ and ‘you're perfect’.
But maybe the words were already painted for somebody else
and You’re voice caught on the vinyl of the moment.

Darling they told me that a family from Utah is
moving in next week,
I hope they treat you well.

Darling the door has been locked and boarded without a warning

I saw this prompt on twitter one time and really was inspired to write on it. I liked this guy so much and to be honest still do. It seems like we talked about him a lot so that was the bland conversations and over told stories part. I knew he didn't think of me the same way and I knew we were never going to talk about things that I wanted to discuss. We had kissed and cuddled a lot and he told me those words about beauty and perfection but I don't think he meant them. He was leaving for college in Utah. He seems to be doing just fine. Things are done and over with.

#love #heartbreak #home #goodbye #utah

Roderick Blakeman May 2014

Bite Your Tongue

She said to me she liked my suit but...
"Bite your tongue" I replied
She said "but no I only meant..."
"I don't need your approval" I lied

"It really is quite nice" she whispered
her face now red with shame
"Like it or not, I hardly care
to me it's all the same"

I walked away with head held high
but feeling oh so bad
why had I uttered these angry words
and made her look so sad

Was it the disappointment
that she hadn't oohed and aahed
after the time I had spent choosing
were my feelings so on guard

I'd wanted her to be proud of me
and give me so much praise
but as usual the "but" was added
it was always there these days

So my defensive ego reared up
and had bitten her in spite
criticism I couldn't take
and my nerves told me to fight

Scream at the World and be ******
my inner self did shout
as tears now rolled down my face
while I looked for a way out

Taking my courage in both hands
I turned and wiped my eyes
"Forgive me please I'm sorry
for emitting all those lies"

"It's my love of all things you
that has made me highly strung
I only wish that I'd been silent
and bitten my own tongue"

She looked at me with sadness
and then turned her head away
"Goodbye you ******* ******"
was all I heard her say

The End.

Contains Bad Language...

#love #life

Francie Lynch Sep 2021

Forgive, Forget and Praise

Who would call them losers
Because they couldn't stand;
We lifted when they moved about
On worn out knees and hands.

We didn't call them fools
Because they didn't talk;
We oohed and ahhed with all their sounds
When they stood free and walked.

We heard a blend of letters spew
Like spilled out alphaghetti;
Raving with their oral prowess,
Like roars on the Serengeti.

As years passed by, and they were graded
(And most certainly not by us);
They might return with D's and E's,
But we never judged or fussed.

This is how we treated them,
Our children that we raised;
I pray that our changing world
Will forgive, forget and praise.

Positive thinking moves...

#children #childrearing #praise

Julia Brennan Nov 2015

The Sea

When I close my eyes,
I see a serene aquatic view
and messages in bottles growing
smaller and smaller,
melting into the horizon.

I see the Sun
catching the glass' delicate curvatures
and casting amber sparkles
back to the shore where I
stand firmly
in the sand.

For two hundred and forty six sunrises,
the hungry tides
swallowed and buried my feet over and over again
as they cast themselves upon me.
I remained
unmoved
as twilight waxed and waned.
When soft pinks, oranges, and yellows were weakened
with the onset of a deep indigo,
a longing for night
festered
and ****** me into its mesmerizing abyss.
When a single gull's call pierced the sky
his lonely cry called me
to find solace in isolation.
And as the ocean oohed and awed over a cool breeze,
I let it run through me
and did not shudder
from its ghost-like impulse.

I feel the waves grabbing at me to pull me in,
and
I want to give in to their force.
I want them to carry me away.
I want to feel their shifts in energy, and
I want to float atop them
as the Sun shines upon me and warms my face.
I'm longing to be carried to lands not quite breached
on any wave
that would be willing
to take me...

Anywhere.

But I am still
motionless.
Cemented
in ever moving grains.
Forever sinking down into the sand
unable to attain the fluidity
that is
the Sea.

Mike Hauser Dec 2014

Double Wide

I'm the envy of all my of neighbors
Way to easy it should be a crime
Everyone on the street treats me like royalty
Since I went and purchased a Double Wide

They all came a running when they heard the horns a honking
As the semi pulled into the street
It was a magical day just like a parade
Dogs barking, children screaming
as the mayor came out and shook hands with me

The local news came in with their cameras
The valumptuous blond liked the siding of torquoise blue
She got next to me real kozy
And asked if she could give me a late night interview

Since I now seem to be a celebrity
All the men oohed and aahed
as I gave them the tour
They all want to be best friends with me
As the women cood and cawed
begging for more

Never before in their lives had they ever seen
a toilet and sink in the brightest of pink
As they blushed and stuttered trying to speak
one way or another making google eyes at me

This possibly could be the very best thing
Turning out to be a wonderful buy
I would never have known or could ever think
When I purchased my Double Wide

Donall Dempsey Dec 2019

OUR 'ARRY

OUR 'ARRY

He nonchalantly
ambled in from

the garden
on Christmas Eve's eve.

Curled up by the fire
into a ball and then

promptly fell asleep
like a Christmas present

waiting for the great
day to happen.

And so, what we had only seen
in an illustration from a Ladybird book

became the real
living thing.

A hedgehog of
our own

at once christened
'Arry...our 'Arry!

We oohed and ahhhed
so loudly we

awoke him
with a start.

And with that his fleas
left him en masse

swarming like a Biblical
plague

until he shrank
to half his size.

I screamed.
Me Ma screamed.

The dog barked nervously.
The cat yawned "Like...yeah...so what?"

And so without much ado
our 'Arry was returned

to the wild from whence
he came

bundled into a Kellogg's Cornflakes box
the cornflakes dumped upon the table top.

The horror movie of his fleas
fleeing

still playing in my head
over fifty years later.

Our 'Arry gone back
into the dark.

***

Yet another poem pulled from my subconsciousness by the machinations of that Lisa Kelly of the Torriano Meeting House writing workshop who by the simple means of pulling a ******* with a hedgehog with a hat delivering a Christmas present plunged me into this memory of days gone by in the long ago of being a child. Half of our 'Arry's body weight being fleas abandoning the body of their host for the warmth of an Irish turf fire still haunts me.

matthew scott harris Nov 2018

Childhood Christmas

Circa - approximately early
to late nineteen sixties,
     where yours truly
found himself surly,
particularly compounded
     if my parents,

where Mister and
Missus Santa Claus
played by Boyce and
Harriet Harris respectively

     failed to purchase
     for this sole son,
thee latest trendy
     toy, sans whirly
gig, gizmo, or
     fuzzy electric doohickey,
     BUT NOTHING girly.

Translation: Inxs of
     severe (incurable) envy
     infected Matthew Scott
most pronounced, asper
   quantity of presents,

     the gratitude receiving gifts
     meant diddly squat
if I counted less goodies,
     than either eldest,
     and/or youngest sister got.

This rancor kept
     under (ahem) wraps
though ironically, either
     sibling oohed and ahed
     over some fancy shmancy
     garment with snaps,

which this lad
     feigned ambivalence,
     indifference, or
     repugnance toward getup
     for young chaps.

No sooner did the
     last, (and usually
     biggest) boxed surprise
found these then kiddie
     fingers tearing into,
     when thine irritating
     nasal voice didst rise

above the melee "That's all,"
     or some variation
     on said theme blurted out
     as "FAKE" real lies
already, eagerly, and impatiently
     anticipating same holiday
     three hundred and sixty

     five days, hence unaware
     how fast "time flies"
now this soon to be newly
     minted sexagenarian eyes,
those memories of innocent
     naiveté, and bliss

     with sentimental nostalgia
     (envision: slight moisture
     around tear ducts), and
     aye close this poem
     with reminiscence dabbed
     with tissue sadness dries.

jessica May 2020

Nest

A robin’s nest was in the holly bush last week
At almost eye level, I had an intimate view
Into the life of a baby bird
Pink, frail and wanting
These small, translucent creatures
Waking ,sleeping, eating
Had everything they needed to survive
But did not know yet how to live
I would clutch my hands in delight
At their tiny outstretched necks, their barely formed beaks
Open, seeking, receiving
I giggled at how very wide their mouths seemed
I oohed and ahhed at their desperation
To be nourished, how mom went
back and forth
Back and forth
For hours to find the food from a hidden source
I woke early the next day
Having planned all my errands around birdwatching
I got excited thinking how I would watch these babies grow
I went outside, I hunkered down
But momma Robin never came

— The End —