"runny" poems
Rain water soaks us
Runny mascara, but you still think I'm beautiful
Lips so soft
Lips so sweet
We're pressed up against each other
Bare chest to bare chest
You on top
Me on bottom
Hips locked in place with the other
Warm soft sweet lips slowly caressing my body, my lips and my neck you **** on
Soft gentle hands caress my ******* thoughtfully
Finally, her lips reach my thighs, I, trembling with lust and fear
I was scared and she knew it
Her hands and lips touched me
So softly, so gently
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
To expel intestinal gases through the ****
The definition makes it sound kinda heinous.
Whether you pass wind or pass gas,
either way it comes out your ***
Farts are loud and some silent but deadly,
you can make it sound like a medley.
Farts are cool and sometimes funny,
lookout for ones that become runny.
Some like to **** in your face,
it may cause pink eye,
and sting like mace.
Farts can smell and usually bad,
must be a duck, says your dad.
I have farts that never stink,
although some were on the brink.
Dog farts will make you take cover,
the smell lingers and starts to hover.
Woman never ****
but watch out when they do,
it can be brutal,
once their comfortable with you.
If in certain places you must hold it in,
farting in church is considered a sin.
A good **** can make you feel good,
its part of life and fully understood.
Every **** deserves a smile or a giggle,
don't forget to give your *** a shake or a wiggle.
For ones who think farting is disgusting,
I bet your ******* needs a good dusting.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
Dipped in milk
Or eaten plain
Chocolate like silk
Cookies&Cream;
Peanut butter
****** Butter
Oreo's
Who to blame
Sneaking in the night
Only for a bite
Sweet and touchy
Creamy and crunchy
Let the sugar rush come
Oh, now hand me a tum
Upset tummy
My nose is runny
What's this i hear?
I can't take sweets as I please?
Oh, come on...
You can't blame the cookies!
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC
*Such a lovely ring, she said.
It even looks good on my ugly hands.
As if those hands were lacking.
As if those hands –
hard working hands –
Bore no beauty of their own.
My mother’s hands,
That held the soap
To scrub my baby toes;
Whose hands were there
To show me how
To blot my runny nose.
Those hands that later
held my hands
And patiently did teach me
How to tie my shoes -
Then held them once again
To coax and guide my own
To write my cursive name
Until the time when I alone
Could do the very same.
My mother’s hands,
That fed me,
And tucked me in at night;
Who touched my fevered brow
And soothed away my fright.
My mother’s hands,
That all my life
Gave comfort, care and hope.
And when my children came to be,
I watched my mother’s hands -
a new grandmother’s hands -
Touch my children, tenderly.
My mother’s hands,
Yes, weathered by their toil,
The fingers wide,
And aged with years –
and just like her,
Still sure and strong
Yet gentle as they ever were.
My mother’s hands –
She looks, and says they’re ugly
But I don’t know what to say.
For when I see
My mother’s hands
It’s the beauty of
The love they gave,
Assuring strength
And constant grace
All held within
My mother’s hands.
Lin Cava©*
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 5:51 AM UTC
Oh my little piece of poo,
How much that I do cherish you.
A texture like that of sticky clay.
With an aromatic, stiff bouquet.
I can roll you into little *****
And stick you to the bathroom walls.
I can shape you any way I want.
And get some more with a little grunt.
If I want you a little runny,
I use prunes to fill my tummy.
"Add some color." did you say?
I'll just eat corn and peanuts. Yay!
Want some green, some red, some blue?
A box of fruitloops, that'll do!
If I want you a little lumpy,
I'll eat raw carrots, their kinda chunky!
Playdough can't come out of my ****
And I can't make playdough with my gut.
Most people flush you far away.
But I recycle! With you I'll play!
So here's to you, my piece of poo.
Thank you so much for just being you!
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 8:04 AM UTC
I see her often ....struggling all alone.
A diaper bag, pocketbook and the baby.
The look of distress on her face as she pushes the stroller home.
She raises her child all by herself.
Her pockets are not overflowing ....which means she's lacking wealth.
She shuffles off to work each day.
She's wondering when they will increase the dollars in her pay.
Single mom to some, Superwoman to her kids.....no regrets, it is what it is.
How I admire her strength and drive.
She's strong during the day, but at night she cries.
This is not the way it was supposed to be.
My child should be seeing double not just me.
Her mind is steady racing, but this is not a race.
The thought started here and now it's in a different place.
The sacrifices and staying up late when her child is sick.
She's snapping pictures at Christmas time as her daughter opens presents left by jolly ole Saint Nick.
She's thankful for this precious jewel that she must shape and shine.
Smiling as she puts her child to bed, because she has to be at work by nine.
There's always something to be done, so there's not much time to sit.
This is a full time job and one which she can't quit.
The cooking, the cleaning and washing clothes,
she's looking for some tissues so she can wipe a runny nose.
She thinks she's a single mom, but that's not entirely true.
The Lord is guiding and assisting ....pulling her through.
Keep your head up and don't let anyone or anything bring you down.
A queen's crown belongs on her head.....not upon the ground.
A dedication to the single mother's........Thank you for all that you do and have done.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
there was a little hedgehog he caught a summer chill
he had a runny nose the poor chap felt ill
he began to cough and then began to sneeze
then his little chest it began to wheeze
he felt really poorly so he went to bed
curled in his blankets to rest his poorly head
next day he woke up he he felt as right as rain
the hedgehog he was happy he was well again
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
could it be a ********
like cotton buds
from the ***** flower
a witched river
under dark clouds
of brooms that don't fly anymore
maybe in need of an upgrade
perhaps a spell of weaponized winds
with insinuated floating ghouls
shaking their lopsided claws
under blood orchards
and diagrams of grief
as they follow their noses
looking for *****
******* the scent of vivacious
zyzzyva
loving oozing laughter
thirsty skin
needles too
**** heroine stuck on toe picket fences
mimicry of ducks blood butter
like a crime scene of kisses that went to far
eggs and runny yokes left puddled on a thigh
the ****** burps Pans milkshake
*** legacy legs
lookin for love
auto asphyxiated in a closet fringy and hanging with a hardon
lost eyes and drool
somewhere in Thailand
after spicy noodle soup
and a Tsingtao
hurt me
hurt you
i'm an evil boweval
a Zyzzyva come to love you
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Sometimes it hurts so much not to cry when you have to hold it inside you and it hurts so much to be in a crowed room
and you have to hold it in because if she sees you
crying she'll know it's because she stomped on your chest
and caused your heart to deflate like a lazy balloon and
in that moment you feel so alone and
empty
and so you start to cry.
And everyone consoles you and pats you on the back and tells you it'll be okay
but this isn't what you wanted
it wasn't supposed to happen like this
"no no no leave me alone
just stop
I'm fine I have allergies jesus."
And crying doesn't fit your aesthetic,
emotion doesn't fit your aesthetic,
love doesn't fit your aesthetic. So you get your **** together.
You go to the bathroom and you wash your face and you get your **** together and you fix your makeup
because runny mascara does not fit your aesthetic
and neither does
heartbreak.
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
She don't like her eggs all runny
she thinks crossin' her legs is funny
she looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter bunny
she's my baby
I'm her honey
Never Gonna Let Her Go
He ain't got laid in a
Month of Sundays
I caught him once
and he was sniffin' my ******
he ain't too sharp but he gets things done drinks beer like it's oxygen
and he's my baby
I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go
In Spite of Ourselves
we'll end up sitting on a rainbow
Against All Odds
honey were the big door prize
We're going to spite our noses
right off of our faces
there won't be nothin'
but a big ol' Hearts
dancin' in our eyes
she thinks all my jokes are corny
convict movies make her *****
she likes ketchup with her scrambled eggs swears like a sailor when
she shaves her legs
she takes a lickin'
she keeps on tickin'
I'm never going to let her go
He's got more ***** than
A Big Brass Monkey
he's a whacked-out ******
and a love bug ******
Sly as a fox
crazy as a loon
when payday comes
he's howlin' at the moon
he is my baby
and I don't mean maybe
I'm never going to let him go
In Spite of Ourselves
we'll end up sittin' on a rainbow
Against All Odds
honey were the big door prize
we're going to spite our noses
right off of our faces
there won't be nothing
but big ol' Hearts
dancin' in our eyes
In Spite of Ourselves
Written by John Prime
Cherie Nolan- A favorite wedding tune
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:35 PM UTC
I sleep on white bed sheets
with the windows open
so the breeze can brush my face
and the rain can fall on my lips.
I sleep in the gray half-light that
washes the color from my walls.
My skin is bare, fingers tangled in
the blankets, hair drying in the
same air that dries the dew
off of the leaves.
Get drunk on dreams
crumple the sheets
ice packs and underwear
poetry, bracelets, books.
I sleep with tearstained cheeks
swollen eyes and a runny nose
and bite marks in my mouth.
I sleep with a heavy heart
and fingertips on fire.
Dizzy, fuzzy eyesight
and fantastic scenarios
played out like film in my head.
I sleep in the warmest
and coldest room of my house.
I sleep under quilts and blankets
curled up against the cold,
and I sleep naked
with the air warm against my skin.
I always sleep with a book
at my bedside
and the drapes opened
so I can see the stars.
I sleep through sunsets and sunrises
and lightning that cracks open the sky.
I sleep through delicate snowstorms
and hazy summer smoke.
I sleep by myself
and I seize the quiet
as a moment of my own,
not shared
not secret.
I sleep for life and rebirth
and tranquility,
for peace and second chances.
I sleep for mornings.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Brighter than Rudolph's red nose,
My nose, like a traffic light glows.
Santa could hire me you know,
As his coach man I'd love to go !!
Traffic stops when I cross,
Puzzled police are at a loss.
"Oh, those signals", they say at last,
By then I'm gone real fast !!
Winter haunteth the place I live,
Not a ghost. (Ghostbusters do forgive)
Tissues like snow, dot the floor,
What's in them, I don't adore.
If only this was Charlie's Chocolate factory,
Where snow resembled sugary gallantry !!
Maybe Santa loved Winter no more,
Instead it entered through my front door.
Homeless Winter, thou gifted me cold,
And cold, a runny nose.
I'm grateful, for I am bold,
And gifteth Winter, poetry and prose !!!
Dec 15, 2017
Dec 15, 2017 at 11:57 AM UTC
Forsaken, ******* in the cold,
eating each other, lost
runny noses,
complaining all the time
like so many
people
that we know
6.3k
As the snow flies
on a cold and grey Chicago mornin'
A poor little child is born
In the ghetto
(in the ghetto)
And his mama cries
'cause if there's one thing
that she doesn't need
Is another hungry mouth to feed
In the ghetto
(in the ghetto)
People, don't you understand
the child needs a helping hand?
Or he'll grow up to be an Angry Young Man someday...
Take a look at you and me
are we too blind to see?
Do we simply turn our heads,
and look the other way?
Well, the World Turns
and hungry little boy with a runny nose
Plays in the street as the cold wind blows
In the ghetto
(in the ghetto)
As his hunger Burns
So he starts the roam the streets at night
And he learns how to steal
and he learns how to fight
In the ghetto
Then one night in desperation
A young man breaks away
he buys a gun, steals a car
he tries to run
but he don't get far
And his mama cries
As a crowd gathers 'round
an Angry Young Man
face down in the street
with a gun in his hand
In the ghetto
(in the ghetto)
As her young man dies
On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'
Another little baby child is born
In the ghetto...
( in the ghetto )
His mama cries
in the ghetto
Elvis Presley....was to me a very beautiful poetic sad soul, wanting to shake the world up....gone too soon doing things he did not want too in the end. XO
Cherie Nolan
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 7:22 PM UTC
I was starving in
Pennsylvania.
One night, I had
enough.
Done with it all.
The poverty and
sickness.
The drunken mad
nights
and dog-fight days.
Brutality for breakfast.
Served sunny side up
runny yolks with
butterflies trapped in
the yellow sunshine.
Spiders built webs in
my soul.
I stood on the torn-up
couch in my living room and
yelled at the walls.
Listen, you devil.
You want me, you better be
ready for a fight.
I paced the floor like a
washed-up heavyweight champ,
eyeing the ceiling like a
drunken sparrow in a cat's mouth.
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 11:59 AM UTC
Diaper duty's not that bad.
The first few months go well.
Baby doesn't go that much,
And the poo does not yet smell.
When baby's very little,
And gets fed only milk
Baby's little excrement
Resembles brown mustard 'til...
Baby starts to grow a bit
And so does baby's poo.
The food they eat is more complex
And they poo much more like you.
Changing baby's diaper
Becomes more interesting.
And the smell that baby generates
Starts your nose to sting.
You learn real fast which foods cause
Your nostrils so much gloom.
And which of baby's foods are safe
And don't cause deadly fumes.
You also learn what kind of foods
Make baby's poo too stiff.
And what makes their poo so runny
They could poo through a sieve.
So take care of little baby
And always feed them right.
And be sure to check their diaper
Before turning out the light.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Unwanted, and unloved,
With matted fur,
Wide eyes of stone,
Once, you were beloved,
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your nose is runny and red,
Your paws are too small,
Your tail is patchy and wet,
You're too thin, but perhaps with a bit of bread..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You tried to follow me home,
My home is too small,
Money is tight and hard earned,
My heart is unwell, but I cannot simply let you roam..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
You didn't care,
I was the curious thing,
The one to stop,
And scratch behind your ears, your life has never been fair..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
Your walk is much too slow,
Fumbling one way or the other,
Tripping over your paws,
Getting distracted by the spiders, but soon, you'll grow..
Black Kitten,
Ugly Kitten,
I stopped,
And carried you home.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
my eyes
tongues of desire
a soft gauze
upon drenched red silk
stigmata
a river of marrow
flower of blood
creel of moist honey
hold not yourself apart
I kiss your wound
bell moon
crescent ravine, dark tears
like a spay of stars
arched spine
your raised ****
like scrambled eggs
curves to the heavens
a steep canyon aching
weeps blue darkness
legs wide in souls shadowed grove
tattooed pistols and knives
pierced by my autograph
for every letter, scimitars plunge
jeweled ******** ringed
sweet tarnished petal
gashed mouth; flower de luce
memories that burn
blotted like an eye in ink
to fly winged *******
your face
hieroglyphic of weird
crimson smear; cackle
with feet below hell
wanting to live
like fire in the sky
hot witch riding a broom handle *****
scummed mouth
the world soul destroyed paradise
and your form
hideous kisses
falling red ribbons
i am puddled;
a runny yolk
shameless for your open hollows
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
Fought
One, Twenty-two skidoo.
Cantankerous mad filamous
She,
That of her,
Me.
Piñata, stretched balloon
Over my big fleshy
******
Tea and cakes,
Painted my nails
Painted my lips
Like candy.
Gold trinkets,
Pour like mercury out of my ear.
Ouch! I cried
My feet in hot sandy
Dreams.
Flying peacocks tickle
My *****
Oranges roll on chalk board tables
Over stale rye bread.
***** dribbles out like mucus
And a runny nose.
Toilet paper and rusty water.
********** on you.
Stocking lover.
Fetish cover.
Woman pusher.
Mellifluous ****
Look at my skin.
Pink, beige, peach, red
Porous, greasy, bacteria ridden hide.
**** me like seppuku,
Smother, suffocate me with
Red jelly jam.
Lubricate your finger with black
Cancerous ash.
Stick it in my naval,
Unravel my umbilical cord
Like so many filaments of my heart.
Tear your flesh
You auto *********
Rip your liver
And force feed it
Corn and maize
Hay and grass
Emory my nails against
Red barn walls
Until bare skin fundamentals
Kisses with salty lips
Inflame my ravishing
Pig stomach.
Kick my shin you
Everything,
Wake up you stupid
*****
Void can be blue skies,
Oceans call for suicide.
Kiss me with delight,
Raspberries tattooed
In my *****
Strawberry cream
Vanilla, milk,
Ponderous infinity,
Cotton, dough
Honey and sage.
Caustic gastric
You and not me.
Feel my legs,
Touch my thighs,
Lick my lips,
Give me anything
Not direct.
Tie me up in complexities.
**** my head up.
Put me in a dream,
Make me happy.
Blair Butterfield 2004
Jan 11, 2010
Jan 11, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
Can there be any doubt in a mind that knows
In thoughts aloof beyond our scope
Professorial peaks and highs
Paused words and thoughts sublime
Intellect that's a world away
From you and I day to day
Well that's you who ponders and petulates
It's more like ****** and Norman Bates
Because dear proff you're a total ****
A higher education ****
Emeritus wizard oh high priest of thought
Who reads the Times, what else of course!
You graze upon its every word
Like a runny smelly sloppy ****
So there you have it professor ****
A tribute to you the legal ****
No better than any other man
You worthless piece of human spam
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 7:48 PM UTC
Quiet crickets.
Quiet light of moon
Quiet cars along the road
--Go'n be home soon
Quiet AC on too late
Quiet humming charger in the outlet
Quiet bathroom 'cross the hall, water dripping from the faucet
Quiet floors while set'ling in
You're too old for all that whinin'
Quiet creatures awake before the sun
The signals when it's shinin'
Quiet indistinguishable shadow still yet so foreboding
Oh, you're just a pile of clothes that I never got to folding
Quiet drafty window singing with such vigor and such soul
Catch a chill from that night air
Might catch a runny nose
Quiet thoughts-that handsome stranger, worries, deadlines, dreams, 'n stuff
Quiet bedtime playlist streaming
Clearly you were'nt good enough
Quiet poem bursting from me my
Admonition of defeat
quiet quiet.
too much quiet-
quiet, would you let me sleep?
2:46am 8.30.18
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 2:51 AM UTC
I will not die for you
Woman fey of flesh and home,
I linger but to see you unfrock
The holy, set rogues to roam.
Why should I thus be consumed
In breath like coldest fire?
Shape of rising waterfalls
That state, I surely do not desire
The downy ******* the runny skin,
Spark of cheek, notes of hair in shower,
The gliding step, the gusty tone,
Fools have died for much less a dower.
The lancing pools, the hemlock mien,
The highland sheen, the dawn-bird voice,
The Safire eye, over step of pyramid
Merlin gave Arthur a safer choice.
I will not drown for you,
Flood of hair, red as the lye
In parted Jordan, that sea, not me,
Shall pine as ever, slowly dying.
Your healing humors, your subtle sovereignty,
Your blood, noble as seven-seas are blue,
Little mirror who paints the sky,
Though nearly, I will not die for you.
Jun 24, 2012
Jun 24, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
The patient has had no nausea,
vomiting or back pain. No chills,
fatigue, fever, decreased vision
or double vision. No ear drainage
or hearing loss, epistaxis or
runny nose. No sore throat, calf
pain, chest pain, cough or difficulty
breathing. No pedal edema,
palpitations, black stools, ******
stools or constipation. No diarrhea,
urinary frequency, laceration, skin
rash or depression. No dizziness,
headache, head injury, weakness
or enlarged lymph nodes. All
systems negative
and yet
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
i had a little tortoise he wasnt very well
coughing and a sneezing inside his little shell
he had a runny nose and began to sneeze
it got to his chest and he began to wheeze
i took him in the house the only thing to do
he wasnt well at all he was full of flu
i wrapped him in a blanket so he could sweat it out
the next day he felt better and began to walk about
now his cold has gone and well again once more
happy and content like he was before
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:28 AM UTC