~***~
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
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Related quotes
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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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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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
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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
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Disrespect
that early morning i take a walk
on the path beside a ricefield
on the other side about ten meters away
a man is spraying the ricefield with
pesticides
the birds are too innocent for poison
and begin to eat all the worms that fall
from the leaves of riceplants
i am breathing poison but the man on the other side
does not really know what he is doing
the air cannot complain, i could, i know,
but i am too busy about a lot of things and thoughts
the birds are feasting on the dead
worms, and
i left the place at once.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flies, worms, and flowers exceed me still.
quote by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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
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Flowers..
IM SORRY FOR NOT GIVING YOU FLOWERS
ON VALENTINE'S DAY,
AND FOR NOT SHOWING MY LOVE IN THAT SPECIAL WAY.
IM SORRY FOR NOT GIVING YOU FLOWERS
ON MOTHERS DAY,
AND FOR NOT APPRECIATING WHAT YOU DO
FOR OUR CHILDREN NIGHT AND DAY.
IM SORRY FOR NOT GIVING YOU FLOWERS
ON OUR ANNIVERSARY,
I NEVER MEANT TO HURT YOUR FEELINGS AND IM SORRY.
IM SO SORRY FOR HAVING TO GIVE YOU FLOWERS
ONLY ON THIS DAY,
I MISS YOU SO MUCH I WISH YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO PASS AWAY.
7/29/09
Copyright ©2009 Jose Murguia
poem by Jose Murguia
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Worms Vs. Birds
Self pity me, it's so pitifull
You can see that birds and worms don't get along
Self rightious me, it's so wrong and
You can see that we don't have to get along
Self pity me, it's so pitifull
You can see that birds and worms donot agree
And we will crawl
(Will crawl)
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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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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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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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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Why do Birds Chirp in the Trees?
why do little birds chirp so loud in the trees
in the early morn the sun a yellow fiery
globe inching its greeting up the eastern sky?
it is because of the the little birds' excitements
for adventures of the new day
where their wings would take them for worms
for mates, for games, for the breeze in the air
why do birds chirp so loud in the trees at the close of day
the sun a fiery red globe gliding through the coppice western sky
it is because they wish to share their adventures of the day
chiding each other to prove who have taken the most worms
the new mates they have come to know
and where they should head the next day
why do birds stay so quiet in the night
the moon a golden disc keeping watch over foes?
it is because God has pulled a blanket over
their mind so that they can rest and
find strength when the sun starts lighting up a new day
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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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
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Flowers For The Bees
you talk about a world
of flowers
and i cannot help but
also remember
the thorns and worms
bee to bee
tree to tree
aphid to
aphid
do you wish to bring me there?
is there a world for me?
flowers for the bees
rivers for the trees
suns for the grass
stones for the sands
in your circus world
of flora
Brigitte
the fauna clowns are no longer funny
look at me
i am no longer a child
candies do not
attract me
i decide for myself
now
and neither sorrow nor joy
is not
anymore the prime
envoy
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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