Related quotes: That is raw dough. Never...

That is raw dough. Never eat raw dough. They can make worms in your tummy. Worms in your tummy.

quote by Ryan Stiles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

That Yummy To The Tummy Done

Chasing to escape a common placement,
Is a taste one wishes to keep sweet.
Once the taste of achievement...
Stays to cling on a tongue,
With the licking of the lips done.
And that yummy to the tummy...
Has a difficult time for one to overcome.

When treated the first time,
No one thinks of addiction.
Or a thought that something would stick...
With a desire wished that solicits a wanting more of it!

And that yummy to the tummy...
Has a difficult time to overcome.
That yummy to the tummy done...
One never forgets its deliciousness.
Or the first time lips were licked.

That yummy to the tummy done..
Ahhh.
A tummy with a yummy comes,
Ahh ahh...
That yummy to the tummy coming with a yum yum.

That yummy to the tummy done,
Ahhh.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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London Tube Trains (Are Like Worms!)

London Tube Trains are like Worms,
They are even shaped like worms,
They live underground like Worms do,
Eating into the heart of the capital,
Like worms eating into an apple.

poem by Rachel Porter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Waiting For The Worms

Oooo you cannot reach me now,
Oooo no matter how you try.
Goodbye cruel world, its over.
Walk on by.
Sitting in a bunker,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
In perfect isolation,
Here behind my wall,
Waiting for the worms to come. ( worms to come. )
Waiting, to cut out the deadwood.
Waiting, to clean up the city.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to put on a black shirt.
Waiting, to weed out the weaklings.
Waiting, to smash in their windows and kick in their doors.
Waiting, for the final solution to strengthen the strain.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Waiting, to turn on the showers and fire the ovens.
Waiting, for the queers and the coons and the reds and the jews.
Waiting, to follow the worms.
Would you like to see britannia,
Rule again, my friend?
All you have to do is follow the worms.
Would you like to send our colored cousins,
Home again, my friend?
All you need to do is follow the worms.

song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Do Re Mi

(earl king)
Do re me fa so la ti
This little creature was a-passing me
He got a whole lot of rhythm when he walks
And I can hear music, baby, when he talks
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me, oh yeah
Do re mi fa so la ti
I wonder who can this creature be?
He aint no picture as I can see
But I dont care he looks so good to me
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me
Do re mi fa so la ti
Id like to love you, yeah, yes sirree
It may sound crazy but its a fact
Hey tell me, baby, baby
How you gonna act?
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me
Oh yeah
Do re mi fa so la ti
Lets get together and make whoopee
A b c d e f g
Cupids shootin arrows straight by me
Do re mi fa so la ti
Forget about the dough and think about me
A b c d e f g
The cats in the cupboard and you cant catch me
A b c d e f g
Forget about the dough and think about me
A b c d e f g
Cupids shootin arrows straight by me
Oh, yes

song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Musing on mortality

Musing on mortality.

Though we all start on equal terms
Your life experience will affirm.
All finish up as food for worms.

Some will win whilst others lose
We have no choice we can’t refuse
All finish up as food for worms.

Although we strive to stay alive
By any means we can contrive.
All finish up as food for worms

Some settle for cremation
An act of desperation.
All finish up as food for worms

Although the ashes are broadcast
They mingle with the soil at last.
All finish up as food for worms

That is the way it’s meant to be.
There is no doubt eventually.
All finish up as food for worms

The only true equality
Is found within the cemetery
ALL FINISH UP AS FOOD FOR WORMS.
SUNDAY,11 DECEMBER 2011

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Big Boots

Drift all you like
From ocean to ocean
Search the whole world
Drunken confessions
And hijacked affairs
Just make you more alone
If you come home I'll bake you a cake
Made of velvet eyes
I wish you could see me
Just when I kill
You're my man-o-war
You're my man-o-war
And the worms will eat you whole
My love
So unplug your phone
Stop all the chatter
Iit all comes flooding back
From poisoned clouds
To poison the world
You're my man-o-war
You're my man-o-war
And the worms will eat you whole
And the worms will eat you whole
My love

song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr Curry Delight

Yum, yummy
O! My tummy
Mr. Curry Delight

Now I fight
For my right
Mouthwatering tasty dishes
Incredible vegetable species
O! Mr. Chef
Mr. Curry Delight
Yum, Yummy
Hear my tummy
Common hurry!
Or be sorry

Hmmm, what’s cooking?
Aromatic spices stewing
Spinach & vegetable brewing
In bucolic style
Chopped onions & tomatoes
Anything edible goes
With the flow
Spicy chicken tandoori
Worth the calories

Yum, Yummy
O! My tummy
O! Mr Curry Delight
This curry sauce
Deserves an applause!

poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ough''A Phonetic Fantasy

The baker-man was kneading dough
And whistling softly, sweet and lough.

Yet ever and anon he'd cough
As though his head were coming ough!

"My word!" said he," but this is rough:
This flour is simply awful stough!"

He punched and thumped it through and through,
As all good bakers dough!

" I'd sooner drive," said he " a plough
Than be a baker anyhough!"

Thus spake the baker kneading dough;
But don't let on I told you sough!

poem by William Thomas Goodge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dinah Kneading Dough

I have seen full many a sight
Born of day or drawn by night:
Sunlight on a silver stream,
Golden lilies all a-dream,
Lofty mountains, bold and proud,
Veiled beneath the lacelike cloud;
But no lovely sight I know
Equals Dinah kneading dough.

Brown arms buried elbow-deep
Their domestic rhythm keep,
As with steady sweep they go
Through the gently yielding dough.
Maids may vaunt their finer charms--
Naught to me like Dinah's arms;
Girls may draw, or paint, or sew--
I love Dinah kneading dough.

Eyes of jet and teeth of pearl,
Hair, some say, too tight a-curl;
But the dainty maid I deem
Very near perfection's dream.
Swift she works, and only flings
Me a glance--the least of things.
And I wonder, does she know
That my heart is in the dough?

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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I wish I was a Donut

I wish I was a donut,
And got eaten everyday.
I could stick on someone’s fingers,
Squishy testy like cookie dough,
In a most delightful way,
So they wouldn’t mind.

I wish I was a donut,
Sugar coated just for fun,
To slide into your mouth, down your throat, and into your tummy.
I’m so tasty everyone would like me.
Pass me around or share me with your pale.

I wish I was a donut,
Filled with yummy cream,
I am sure you’ll enjoy me,
All you’ll hear is the sound of sucking me down,
Licking your lips and wanting more of me.
I’d be in the spot light,
The star of the show.

I wish I was a donut,
Deliciousness will fill your mouth,
And your taste buds will enter a moist smooth dream world,
After the first taste of me.

I would be candy to a cop,
And a surgery treat to a child.

I wish I was a donut,
Don’t you?

poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate and drift, through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me. A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought, a ton of worms, I believe it.

quote by Samuel Beckett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandma's Gorgeous Boy

There's a chuckle in the tummy
Of Grandma's gorgeous boy
Laughter curls in his intestines,
like spaghetti, a la joy.

And the merest hint of jelly beans,
buy's dimples, two per smile.
Every burst of hearty laughter
Chocolate fish in single file

There's a chuckle in the tummy
Thousand, ways of being coy.
A scolding, drowns in misty eyes
he's, Grandma's gorgeous boy.

poem by Ann Beard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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American Wriggle

Rand Paul opens
a new can of worms.

The worms wriggle
around in the can,
unaware they’re about
to become fish-bait.

“That’s it! ” he tells them,
“I approve of wriggle!
Fish approve of wriggle.
Everybody approves wriggle.
It’s The American Way! ”

Tea Partiers cheer, wriggling
like blind American worms.

(24 MAY 10, Santa Clara CA)

poem by Bill Costley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What The Hyena Said

The moon is but a golden skull,
She mounts the heavens now,
And Moon-Worms, mighty Moon-Worms
Are wreathed around her brow.

The Moon-Worms are a doughty race:
They eat her gray and golden face.
Her eye-sockets dead, and molding head:
These caverns are their dwelling-place.

The Moon-Worms, serpents of the skies,
From the great hollows of her eyes
Behold all souls, and they are wise:
With tiny, keen and icy eyes,
Behold how each man sins and dies.

When Earth in gold-corruption lies
Long dead, the moon-worm butterflies
On cyclone wings will reach this place—
Yea, rear their brood on earth’s dead face.

poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have Worms Inside My Mouth

at first i wanted to spit them all
wanting to relieve myself
with all the hassle
in keeping worms
that my friends detest

they tell me
that i must spit them all
for reasons of
sanitation

or perhaps
for my own sanity

i think about it
and the possibilities
of finally throwing up

after all i get
nauseous

this feeling of trying to hide
some things
inside the mouth

(do you know
about it?)

i could not do the throwing up
and so
the worms are still there
it is something
about giving them
temporary shelter
a home

i did not listen to myself
i did not listen to their advices

i decided to keep the worms for good
swallowing each worm
sliding in my esophagus
and finally settling inside the
rooms of my heart

i dream about each worm
wriggling inside my brain
but i keep them still
despite the mixed feelings of
pleasure and pain

one day
the worms become butterflies
and i feel ready for
this beautiful eventuality

i look up
to the heavens
on a very bright day

i spit them
all free

to the skies to the clouds
and to the trees
where they all
rightfully belong

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Worms in Africa

The worms in Africa are skinny
Iseola wants to be buried in Africa
The worms in Africa are not slimmy
Which is why Iseola wants to be buried in Africa?

The worms in America are fat
Iseola does not want to be buried in America
The worms in America are slimmy
Which is why Iseola does not want to be buried in America?

Iseola wants to be buried in Africa
The home of her ancestors
Where the worms are skinny and not slimmy
Her tomb stone shall read “home at last”

poem by Doris Dzameshie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After Listening To A Friend

okey, i got a basketball
for a tummy
and you advise that i
take the exercises
you tell me: stretches
ball, abs, i have to do
abs in 20-repetitions
regularly everyday
got to eat less carbs
more fresh veggies
more fruits to detox
my ugly body
avoid stress take yoga
chant and have my
private peace
gym must be regular
must have discipline
no smoking and
strictly no alcohol

oh, it took me
ten years to earn this
shapely tummy
took care of it
put more fat and
had more sleep than
needed
there were more
expensive pizza and
burgers and cakes
in there

had put more investments
deposited money in there
let me think if i have to remove
it, but if yes, definitely,
not just in a day, a week,
or month, can't promise

i love myself, and my
appearance sadly does not
matter, but i may change
if i don't die earlier than
the time frame that God
gives to hopeless men.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lingering Supper

In a village-house alone an old couple
Both diabetic yet not with unhappy struggle
But with fond petty quarrels on matters trifle

Rice abandoned wheat prescribed
For them specially to be rolled
Chappatis.yes, chappati-supper for the old

Just the canines and incisors alive
Did she so want not to strive
Yet she contrived to somehow thrive

That glutinous dough balled up into bits
Rolled unwillingly into misshaped bits
Baked, only to come out as crusted biscuits

A hot rasam the gravy
Accompanying was supper ready
Seated to sup, her beloved hubby

Denture fixed properly, hungry tummy craving
Chappati bits smiling
Wide eyed burns winking...

Their intimacy never broke
Paces of life did they soak
In honeyed love; So did that grand-pa
Soak his supper in passion...

poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brides

Brides.

Silk worms spewed me a suit fit for a king
Wore it at a wedding where I coveted
Another man’s bride

The worms came, ate my fine suit, they
Had found me unworthy; naked walked
through the park of autumnal leaves.

By daybreak I sat on a stone by the sea
And didn’t hear the cockerel crew, a mermaid
Beckoned for me to join her.

We swam to an island not marked by maps
In the bay I saw my old schooner called May,
De-rigged now and unable to sail

Cured of my vanity, worms spewed me
Another fine suit; by not looking back I walked
On water to a wedding in Paris.

poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Super Sports

Soccer is the worlds favourite sport (Well I personelly think so! ! !) . The people who adore it the most, definetly should eat toast! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

But with AFL you always scream (sometimes that makes you eat alot of cream!) :) On with the poem we go hey i feel like making some dough! Oh NO don't get me started about making dough!

Soccer is definetly different to Football You can't use you're hands thats why they don't use pans.

Football you have to be a tool. I'm not bagging it out but if you go for the saints then you're fully awesome!

That's all I have to say! Oops I forgot to say g'day!

poem by Jemima PennyWiggle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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