Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.
quote by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
~***~
three flowers ڙ ڙ ڙ
and two worms ~ ~
and some cloudy complaintsڛ ڜ ڝ
and there you are giving this advice
→
i am worried about the
three flowers ڙ ڙ ڙ
i need some birds
to take the two worms
away from me ~ ~
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
No one is rich whose expenditures exceed his means, and no one is poor whose incomings exceed his outgoings.
quote by Thomas Chandler Haliburton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Do surgery
A business is worthless
If costs exceed sales.
So is the life one pursues.
If woes exceed peace.
It needs surgery.
26.06.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Letting The Grass Grow
i tried to make this garden clean
from weeds and beetles
i keep it away from worms
only flowers are welcome here
and you know it
things went wrong and you know them
all too well
a broken heart unable to heal itself
a broken self, shattered thoughts
un-assembled un-repaired for years
the expected auto-resolution did not arrive
expectations falling like
domino chips
got tired finally about gardening
the flowers are not that beautiful enough
to appease this grieving mind
got bored with pain
ennui reigning
these benumbing times
too careless
and hurting still
finally, i let the grass grow
the weeds conquer
the beetles breeding like hell
the worms
turning into butterflies
time buds now a flowering.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Park
Muddy steps of raven's heads
Fasting of mould bread
crawling, like wood worms of storm
Hunted by passes of moon golden rocks.
Not here yet, but dear so.
I hide myself, and my hollow wealth of tarragon flavor.
Where new-born flowers hatching, in the womb of my eye's
mother's grass warm sun.
Like arms holding life,
webs of branches' tree,
Hide spiders' leafs, caught in the opening light
dazzles fading flies.
poem by Luca Menin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flowers
(orbison/dees)
When I was a boy I ran among the flowers
Looking left and right at the bright array
I played through the spring, whiled away the hours
Lingered with the flowers every day
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, along the way
When the summer ends and the storms of life are over
When the winter comes and the petals fall away
They may write it on my stone, he was just a roller
But he stopped to pick some flowers along the way
Flowers, pretty flowers, flowers, lifes bouquet
Flowers, picked some flowers, along the way
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Flowering
A cautionary tale
Worms its way
To my sleep
And flowers
Without warning
Into troubled times.
poem by Vince Gullaci
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
You Said It
you said that when you get rich
you will throw a big party
and invite the flies.
if you invite me,
may i invite the worms?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Fog or hurdle
Fog or hurdle
I was on the way
and the fog was also on the way.
It was covering trees, flowers and also me.
It was an early morning
and the sun was peeping behind the fog like a bride.
The flowers were not wavering.
The butter flies were not dancing.
These are nature’s act.
I can say only this that the fog is a hurdle in the way of smile.
poem by Vijay Gupta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Man is the deadly pest
Viruses feed on man;
Fungi feed on man;
Worms and flies feed on
Those that man feed on.
He calls them all pests.
Isn’t he a major pest
To the animals and plants?
28.01.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Vote! | Copy!
Shall She Throw Then The Apple Of Discord?
out there is the calm
and the harmony of the leaves
and the grass
the silence of the ants and
the privacy of the worms
she does not like this
she needs the chaos to divert the
lulling ennui
that will soon numb and kill her
and so she climbs the only living
tree at the center of this paradise
gets the only apple
that she throws under the trees
beside the grass and flowers
and then the discord starts to unfold
now she watches all of them in their
domestic wars
the trees shake the leaves
and the worms are eating the barks
and the ants are building their empires
on sands
simply because they have turned
the blind eye the deaf ear
the gaps of communication bore
the holes of pandemonium
she sits and weaves herself a bandanna
now she is ready to go
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Ideas Shall Always Be Coming...
for as long as the roses have thorns
as long as the fish bone is in the throat
butterflies inside the belly
worms under the feet
flies inside the bottle sealed
still wanting to breathe and still crazy
over life
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Making The Choices...
from my rotting belly
words like words are coming out
no one likes them
worms are beguiling
i am misled myself
because from my rotten belly
the worms without my minding
have become
tiny butterflies
then they fly towards my hair
which have become some kind of little flowers
and i can smell the sweet scents of chili
i have forgotten my body
i have become a forest with all these safari stuff
and orchids and wild birds
to my big surprise of course
because i am never asleep i am awake
oh, this workings of the mind
from a rotten body, this junk of our history
shall rise
the wonders of our future, a forest, birds, safari, rivers,
clouds, skies,
everything, everything, you simply have to make the choices...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Fury of Flowers and Worms
Let the flowers make a journey
on Monday so that I can see
ten daisies in a blue vase
with perhaps one red ant
crawling to the gold center.
A bit of the field on my table,
close to the worms
who struggle blinding,
moving deep into their slime,
moving deep into God's abdomen,
moving like oil through water,
sliding through the good brown.
The daisies grow wild
like popcorn.
They are God's promise to the field.
How happy I am, daisies, to love you.
How happy you are to be loved
and found magical, like a secret
from the sluggish field.
If all the world picked daisies
wars would end, the common cold would stop,
unemployment would end, the monetary market
would hold steady and no money would float.
Listen world.
if you'd just take the time to pick
the white flowers, the penny heart,
all would be well.
They are so unexpected.
They are as good as salt.
If someone had brought them
to van Gogh's room daily
his ear would have stayed on.
I would like to think that no one would die anymore
if we all believed in daisies
but the worms know better, don't they?
They slide into the ear of a corpse
and listen to his great sigh.
poem by Anne Sexton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!