"woot" poems
I shutter in the nights moon.
I hide my self way before noon.
I fear, I fear, night will drift me away.
Moon! I gasp! Do you see me,
turn your judging face from me.
I shutter in the moons glow.
I fear! Which way should I go.
I see the morn only in my mind.
Its solemnly burrow within the trees
like a spy. Yet the cannot escape
my keen eye.
Day light! Blasted day light!
Sneeks its glow upon me.
Yet, comforts like a blanket!
But though I shutter in the moon light
And yet, I welcome a
pleasantly new days sun,
Woot! Whoo! Comes my weak calls.
For by days sun I hunger no more.
I just peck lustfully blood from my
fluttering feathers, of nights telltale gore.
I am just a hungry owl,
Whoot! Whoot! I cry.
My beak shutters to softly croon
My calls fierce, again in nights moon,
Alass! Shouts of fear from the mice.
from chipmunks from the baby racoons.
Hide! Hide! Hide!
For I will stalk you in the night.
You shall be my dinner before
day light.
Comes now too, my endless fear.
I float over fierce brown deer
Its mighty weight, yet, of me
it does not flinch,
Yes, even with my nightly, whoot!
Whoot! Over it my eyes gauntlet glare
It just looks me over as if I am not there.
I flutter full, to appear stronger, but though
I am mighty to the new birthed young,
I am desolate to the ones more than I, so strong.
Whoot! Whoot! Whoot! I cry out.
I cry strong and brave,\.
Yet, not a small beast does not fear as it
shows its self to me
They scamper, Ha! Ha! I laugh.
Do they not realize their tiny legs will
not free them from my swooping outcome.
I swoop, Ha! Ha! Silently I am upon them.
I since their heart beats like a drum.
Soon it is over. Their will is no more, but mine.
As I perch way up in this tree
Shutter I do of beasts, but so do they.
For in the woods all too is fair play
For that is nature's contract
guaranteed, to all forest prey.
© Written by Linda Bates Terrell
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
woot for when i feel you understand
woot for private mysteries of only being me and you
woot for games of lashing raw and scintillating *** in discord's after-thaw
woot for being true
for lies so old they utter love in corners never new.
woot for google's Timbuktu and Timbuctoo and Timbuktoo
woot for w00t
for chasing names into an aether sigh of history
forming castles in the mind,
stonewalling issues to the end of time
woot for fruit.
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 12:16 PM UTC
I shutter in the nights moon.
I hide my self way before noon.
I fear, I fear, night will drift me away.
Moon! I gasp! Do you see me,
turn your judging face from me.
I shutter in the moons glow.
I fear! Which way should I go.
I see the morn only in my mind.
Its solemnly burrow within the trees
like a spy. Yet the cannot escape
my keen eye.
Day light! Blasted day light!
Sneeks its glow upon me.
Yet, comforts like a blanket!
But though I shutter in the moon light
And yet, I welcome a
pleasantly new days sun,
Woot! Whoo! Comes my weak calls.
For by days sun I hunger no more.
I just peck lustfully blood from my
fluttering feathers, of nights telltale gore.
I am just a hungry owl,
Whoot! Whoot! I cry.
My beak shutters to softly croon
My calls fierce, again in nights moon,
Alass! Shouts of fear from the mice.
from chipmunks from the baby racoons.
Hide! Hide! Hide!
For I will stalk you in the night.
You shall be my dinner before
day light.
Comes now too, my endless fear.
I float over fierce brown deer
Its mighty weight, yet, of me
it does not flinch,
Yes, even with my nightly, whoot!
Whoot! Over it my eyes gauntlet glare
It just looks me over as if I am not there.
I flutter full, to appear stronger, but though
I am mighty to the new birthed young,
I am desolate to the ones more than I, so strong.
Whoot! Whoot! Whoot! I cry out.
I cry strong and brave,\.
Yet, not a small beast does not fear as it
shows its self to me
They scamper, Ha! Ha! I laugh.
Do they not realize their tiny legs will
not free them from my swooping outcome.
I swop, Ha! Ha! Silently I am upon them.
I since their heart beats like a drum.
Soon it is over. Their will is no more, but mine.
As I perch way up in this tree
Shutter I do of beasts, but so do they.
For in the woods all too is fair play
For that is nature's contract
guaranteed, to all forest prey.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
Her,
She's the one you see,
When you get up to ***
Or to go get some tea,
She's the one you notice,
Just like a lotus,
Except she's from Jamaica,
Nicky probably wishes she was a part of his cejka,
I'm going to cut this short just for today,
I'll make a sequel and you will all yell HOORAY!!!!
If you haven't guessed,
I won't have you search the West,
I'll tell you who it's about,
It's bout a girl named Thalia,
Who is quite a dahlia,
To her bestest friend in the entire world EVA WOOT WOOT!!!!!
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
EYE's lay in pine brows
without stars pattering to sky
Dreams you are still just sleeping
She breathes in he-art's delights
Mornings task set fly's a way...
Woot Hoot Hoot Ha-Owl!!!!
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
I love white men I think they are smarter than me.
I am not the kind of dark girl you guys think I should be.
That's my poem for all you newbies. WOOT!
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
“How does it feel, studying for your first exam of the semester?” My sister Annick dug at me, via Facetime.
“Oh, I’m miserable and no one even knows!” I exclaimed excitedly.
I already miss summer’s sense of infinite time and space, and life on the lake, with its big, wet, melancholy summer rains. But most of all, I miss the travel and delicious, swirling, excesses that form the dark side of long holiday freedoms.
I’ve been called excessive, I accept that and I have to check that aspect of my nature, from time to time.
“Don’t you have any brakes?” My roommate Leong once asked me, like I was some runaway train.
I remember last summer, how we almost eased into fall. As summer had faded, things changed and slowed down, as the European students turned back to their serious, ordinary lives. The bars and streets became deserted, carousels stopped spinning, arcade games were turned off, yachts sailed away, the eager summer wait-staff vanished from the elegant hotels. Brightly lit, summer-gaudy Saint Tropez became just another faded seaside town, where the paint everywhere suddenly seemed chipped and cheap.
This year, we sped up, by spending the last couple of weeks in flashy, frantic, fluorescent Manhattan - oh, man.
Then BOOM, we were dropped, as if from a great height, back into university life, back to cafeteria lines, shuttle buses and the scholastic gridiron - which oddly enough, has a lot in common with the teenage world. It was going from a-hundred-mile-an-hour adult freedom, to dealing with all the old teenage issues, like homework, tests, studying, the endless clock-watch scheduling of to and from classes - you know, the physicality of academics.
It sounds rough, I know. We’ve been told that as seniors, we can expect an even more important and frenetic emphasis on social life. Yep, we’ll be stepping things up to a whole new level this year!
Woot!! Maybe I’ll even get to wear some makeup!
.
.
A song for this:
September by Earth Wind & Fire
Sep 5, 2024
Sep 5, 2024 at 2:40 PM UTC
"Poetic Commenting!"
ABOUT.POEMING...REPLYING
It's Awardingly, deliciously, famously, stunningly, breaking newsy, Absolutely, Jubilantly, happily enjoying reading, this caring saying, type thing.. thing I be reading.
MY COMMENTING TYPE THING..
COMMENT FANTASTICS..
[email protected].. AND @2BE_ADORED BY SHARDAY3 NOT A WEB SITE..YIKES..
You gone need some wipes..
As I drizzle word writes.
slobing, goosing, spicy types.. word condiments ahh yeah compliments..
#on poetic worded trays. Of sautéed covered portrays.
You want more I know it. Deliciously shared blessings... Complimenting expressions.
We read, we write we excite. Then comes the coated candy explosions..
Got Sum, Give some, need sum.. reap some.
Appreciative funs.
Some after reads of applauses, where we add to the collective plates.
Telling the writers of his/her greats.
And ahh that moved me yes.. Ahh I felt that yes,,
Oh thats a--maz-zzing yes.
You did yah thing,, word bling.. sadly amusing, happily oozing, sorting and telling, wow all kind of juicy wordings..
I'ma put some sauce in my complimenting.
woot word cooking, sizzling starred shakes soothing and replying..
By s.a.m Sharday 2021 Much Work to be Done!
Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 10:01 AM UTC
A joke…for example: MY MAJOR
I stopped taking my meds!
...too soon? Too serious?
I’m happy again, see my smile
That I miss you,
That I hate what you did to me,
that together…we were inseparable, when we were high.
That the potent smell of **** stings my nostrils, it remembers that this is what loved smelled like..
…I’m in a sorority…yeah I’m now Greek
I DON’T EAT MEAT ON CAMPUS ANYMORE!
...woot?
I’m sorry that those ten months were a waste…for both of us.
…honestly, I hate myself most days.
I wish I felt worth it again.
Your shirts the one you’re wearing, that’s the one I got you
... but you’re here,
in that chair.
Not even looking at me.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
I have a job
It's pretty odd
I babysit drunk friends
*Grown *** men*
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
“Bang...Bang...”
said the clang
“Strum...Strum...”
said the drum
“Bong...Bong...”
said the flute
“Woot...Woot...”
said the gong
“Ding...Ding...”
said the strings
“Ring...Ring...”
the violins
Mishmash was the noise
till
“ “
said the voice
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 5:46 PM UTC
Fall is having something of a moment - in Paris - from what I hear.
Me? I’m enjoying some large-group foundational instruction, small-group clinical tutorials, and what they call ‘dense-coursework’ because endless memorization and scientific concept acquisition isn’t dense at all.
Peter’s in Paris for goods, Woot!
And lucky him, he’s adjusting to waking up
to ‘Betty (Get Money) by Yung Gravy,’
blasting from my Sonos One speaker at 6am
right after Charles and I finish our morning 5k.
I’m trying to be present for him, to atone for endless studies.
My diary charts my intentions, anyway, like satirical epistolaries.
Now that Peter’s in Paris, he seems “S” obsessed!
I didn’t tell him, “Wait, isn’t that what A.I. is for?”
No, I go to minimal lengths to discourage him,
for we’re each other’s raw materials, are we not?
Shakespeare, a man who obviously spent a lot of his time on the Internet. Wrote about that very specific, emotional-space and little else. He disguised it, of course, with ****** allusions, drunken sword fights, mistaken identities and sick-burns - but it’s all there.
****** gender-bending, sneaking around, and jesters spilling blunt truths about “appetites.”
But he presented it all as real, human and normal - signaling pleasures full of breathing, tasting, feeling, and the overt-expression of ****** actions - he was a man ahead of his time - made for social media.
Of course, you can’t trust what a poet writes of love.
Not because of dissimulation, but because love is so exciting
- that the happening is all-consuming - and in the after-pauses, much is forgotten.
.
.
Songs for this:
Betty (Get Money) by Yung Gravy [E]
Man I Need by Olivia Dean
Bad Dreams by Teddy Swims
.
Yung Gravy = uhh he’z SO g.d cute and funny.
talking to Peter “If I didn’t have you, I’d stalk him to prove my love.”
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 9:44 AM UTC
kiss me with passion,
deep want in your eyes.
hold me with love,
the cause of relief sighs.
taste me, the *****
right on my lips.
and then a taste of passion fruit,
following each and every kiss.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 12:10 PM UTC