Best Earthworms Poems
A hole in the head shooting pain trembles
nightshades coldly down the spine
a soul lost in the land of the living
carried away in darkness
flying inside dark clouds holding just a dream
Distant thunder roars lightening splitting cracks
sure as the crow flies crawling opens Hell's gates
dark jewels of the night
charred remains churning in a cauldron
boiling goodness tears of thoughts
Piercing screams spawning nightmares
holding a promise once made
walking in a valley amongst the dead
shadows now smile hearing animals scream
as the moon plays silver dancing light
Dreams snatched away from reality
the crow calls echoes in silence
victims of this world howling over and back
tragedy cries in their pain and suffering
eyes seeking light
whispers through the branches
a heather bleat creature of the night calls
Haunted by humans chained to the earth
awaiting shadows and sunsets
a cursed banshee wails supernatural screams
from everywhere and nowhere
Mind numbing winds passing through
a white silhouette shredded shroud
around a heart entombed
in agonies' twilight shades clouds darken
storms brewed stirring specters chase the wind
Cold rains become lost tears
the willow weeps in eternal sorrows
a lament for the dead
as the silver crescent moon smiles goodbye
Blends in clear as day after sunrise
forgotten in a valley of unrest
death bell's toll out from the past
onyx feathered crows call painful cries
Forever seeking heaven's gate now sealed
that promised choice was lost ages ago
only burning Hell fires
or cold earthworms await
Written by: Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler
A dusk, a glazed verandah, it's just rained,
a smell of lilac, earthworms and wet earth,
an awkward silence - the confusion chained
my tongue: “What if she’ll laugh at? Is it worth?”
A glass of wine casts the vermilion shade
over a tablecloth, a rocking chair
sways quietly, its oscillations fade
as far as you immerse into the rare
edition of “Les Fleurs du mal”* I brought
for you, a curious nocturnal moth
time and again sits on your polka dot
chintz dress, it’s getting late, a creamy froth
of lilac trees spills out of the garden
through open windows. I lament, I bide
my time. Oh, how the words of love are hard in
such an inclement May…
In June you died.
So many years have passed since then, my love.
Wine’s drunk, lilac is gone, the moth in vain
knocks on the screen, only the shadow of
your chair still sways in my delirious brain.
*(fr.) “The Flowers of Evil” by Charles Baudelaire
12.10.2019
Give Me Your Best New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
hope and joy
sprinkled liberally
in generous amounts
butterfly magic juice
summer holiday shine
dragon flits mercifully
sunlit orbs
rainbow feelings
heartfelt spirit man
garden entices
marigold's ruffles
teasing the honeybees
faeries tiny secrets
hidden forever
mystically sound
peace and hope
calm above and beyond
earthworms heaven
sigh comes from soul
I feel the music
of the vegetables
pushing their way
realizing their truth
nurturing us forward
butterfly magic juice
enjoyed in all aspects
on a summer day
A hole in the head shooting pain trembles
nightshades coldly down the spine
a soul lost in the land of the living
carried away in darkness
flying inside dark clouds holding just a dream
Distant thunder roars lightening splitting cracks
sure as the crow flies crawling opens hells gates
dark jewels of the night
charred remains churning in a cauldron
boiling goodness tears of thoughts
Piercing screams spawning nightmares
holding a promise once made
walking in a valley amongst the dead
shadows now smile hearing animals scream
as the moon plays silver dancing light
Dreams snatched away from reality
the crow calls echoes in silence
victims of this world howling over and back
tragedy cries in their pain and suffering
eyes seeking light
whispers through the branches
a heather bleat creature of the night calls
Haunted by humans chained to the earth
awaiting shadows and sunsets
a cursed banshee wails supernatural screams
from everywhere and nowhere
Mind numbing winds passing through
a white silhouette shredded shroud
around a heart entombed
in agonies' twilight shades clouds darken
storms brewed stirring specters chase the wind
Cold rains become lost tears
the willow weeps in eternal sorrows
a lament for the dead
as the silver crescent moon smiles goodbye
Blends in clear as day after sunrise
forgotten in a valley of unrest
death bell's toll out from the past
onyx feathered crows call painful cries
Forever seeking heaven's gate now sealed
that promised choice was lost ages ago
only burning hellfires
or cold earthworms await
Written by: Liam McDaid & Kelly Deschler
Summer resplendent sun glowing
in the photosynthesis of viridescent grass.
Waving blades like long fingers flowing,
the sudden sighing gusts come and pass.
The field lives palpable in the anamnesis.
I step through the Queen Anne’s lace,
I lay down on dense turf, where distress decreases,
Sun of repose wrings out pain, leaving no trace.
The field uncut, surrounded by trees,
shooshing wind mixes only with the hum of bees.
Lazy, balmy, timeless afternoon, grasshoppers leap.
Musty grass inhaled. I doze and fall asleep.
The field dandelions release seeds like cotton
floating on nuzzling breeze, landing, then begotten.
Burrowing moles hunt earthworms under soil.
Nests and mounds, why do ants tirelessly toil?
Toad hops by, pausing, inspecting for insects.
Sioux Nation meadowlarks sing of friendship
from the nearby woodland intersects.
Love by dissolving into field, my ritual worship.
At cool dusk, I awaken to cricket chitter.
Night’s canopy of cosmos is without dimension,
measureless. I am free and joyous in star glitter.
I merge with field habitat, awakening all sensations.
Published: Pick Me Up Poetry 10/22
Accepted for Publication, 11/2023: PoetrySoup Anthology Vol. III
Reflections on the Important Things
SPIRITUALLY INTERRUPTED.
I CAME TO EARTH WITH
EVERYTHING IN TACT.
I was happy curious and
with rapid anxiety.
couldn't wait to bring the
good news from the place
where I had just come from,
To my new home here on earth.
It was just an
overwhelming understanding.
that I had,Wanted badly
to share the joy as I arrived
I studied my mothers face.
She was beautiful !
I saw no father.
As I knew what a
mirror was immediately.
The science of images
and reflections innate.
many secrets held in my D.N.A..
and I was well pleased.
Delight and light
surrounded me then.
Everything was good.
Somehow my
senses were acute;
Bees-Butterflies,dandelions.
praying mantis
even earthworms-
were my playmates.
Mud pies and the smell of dirt.
Everything was intact
when I came to earth.
Seemed like a lovely place.
Riding my tricycle-
was quite like the freedom
I had known in my other home.
Then hooverd a cloud over me.
a dreary cloud,
Tears were streaming
I heard mommy crying.
She was only a child
I tried to make her
smile again. I wanted to know
but, she cried even more.
I tasted anguish for
the first time that day.
I was spiritually interrupted
afraid, insecure, and confused
confounded by the blanks and the
sudden disconnection,
I built up a wall;
The wall protected me
from the cacophony
of loud ,big people shouting.
I retreated into my safe world.
Grown-ups they annoyed me
All of them ( The big People )
They were different,
I vowed to never forget my original self.
I vowed that I would always
hold on to my Spiritual soul.
Years passed and I gathered
more of their distorted truth's
I wanted to enjoy the
body I was placed in.
The body I had
before the distractions of curves..
Before the mind noise.
Before the blood that
caused me distress
I could hardly hear
my inner-voice.
I prayed to my inner God.
Too much to know-
Too much too soon.
My innocence melted
like a snowball in a furnace.
The lust of the big people
no longer allowed
me the freedom childhood.
Now jaded with the
burden of womanhood
and my childhood was arrested..
My spirit was abruptly interrupted.
Lines more lunatic than the sun – 7
playing on the raw-coal
the under-clothes of the airhostesses
continue to sing a song
even-then the germination of the almonds
can never become the sugar-candy
made of palmyra
may be they don’t want so
until and unless any night-guard comes
and deposits the RBCs of the jack-fruit-leaves
within a wrinkle-free hand-glove
you do absorb all colours
from the soil of the earthworms
and thus unfold your open hair
along the air of this cloudy day
then none but the gughni-sellers
will get back their names and titles
there is from the sky of the timber of hog-plum
it has rained even last night
the streets are wet
the trees are wet
there is splashing mud in the low lands
those all full-of-incidents
if you wish
you can send them
to the introduction of a proposal against war
i’ve never heard that
to take the responsibility
of the starving south-east
the rain has put down its crown
Lines more lunatic than the sun – 8
all on a sudden
one day again
i face the isabgool
the own fountain of vraj-kishore
may be, wants to fly away in such a manner
to another afternoon
my tiffin-expenses cann’t discover that valley
till now
from where
it is said
all night-gowns begins
then i’m sitting
with my hands and legs spread
in the sun-light
filled with
the sound of chopping of cabbages
on the flowers of the sun-plant
that are in-between the wife and her mother-in-law
i exercise my intelligence very much
if the question of my security is raised
it is only a ‘for-God’s-sake’-like adjuration
the knot of a white handkerchief is so much heavy
i don’t know earlier
my knowledge of using prosody
getting amalgamated calmly
with the stamen used by the sleep
Coffeeblood castings surface
Earthworms rip through trenches
Tangleweeds tug at my limbs
Twisting ferns rake through my hair
As spikes of foxglove ready a violet strangle
The sun itself is fixing to swallow me up
Its incisors cutting through the sweet dream sky
Grass wet with venom spit
The vapors rise to sting my eyes
Red and yellow seeps through thin skin
Sweat, the traitor, dares to join with soil
Morning is the enemy.
Nineteen nosey newts nudged nasty nautical nannies
Eighteen eager ermines excitedly edged everyone’s ego
Seventeen sacred slugs sat sideways searching seagulls
Sixteen slippery snails slid southwards sipping sangria
Fifteen flowery foxes fell forward fondling fuchsias
Fourteen frantic fleas froze fighting frightening fanatics
Twelve twiddling tigers told thirteen tasteless tales
Eleven elderly elephants embellished eighteen ebony earrings
Ten terrified tardy ticks tricked two thirsty Turkish tramps
Nine naughty nasal know-it-alls knew nothing nearing knowledge
Eight elastic earthworms echoed eighty edgy Egyptians
Seven solemn snakes slithered slowly sensing sunshine
Six sassy silk-moths sceptically squished spinach selfishly
Five funny fatties feared following fancy French fashion
Four fantastic faithful Finnish flies faked famous farcical facelifts
Three tenacious terriers thrilled twelve tipsy throbbing thespians
Two tireless Tanzanian tapirs tittle tattled tirelessly throughout Tuesday
One obedient oily octopus offered obnoxious orangutans oranges outrageously
Extolling spring, oh, the robins are singing,
Lauding red-maple, bluebirds are frolicking,
There trills a cardinal fervent in courtship
Where on dogwood soulmate is gawking
And joining the symphony goldfinches fly in
Peeking from redbud, clad in blossoms pink,
Reveling in affirmation: season is blooming;
Some are scouting for earthworms in grass,
Some are building nests, wooing romance,
Playful in blue, red, yellow, and dark brown
Wafting aerial stance sweetest is their sound.
Yes, they’re aware I’m watching their show
Peering through windows, they come and go
And slyly they spy when my beloved arrives—
Orioles now drop-by aiming jealous vibes
As sparrows stealthily pry, hovering close by;
Not till she feeds them, do I hear their sigh,
Swirling in pairs they choreograph up high--
Ah, such a thrill it is to see them merrily fly!
Alas, this friendship is built on fragile bond:
When their nests are empty they’ll be gone--
Rain forests to explore and oceans to cross,
Flexing life’s liberties they’ll span on and on
Perhaps to return to where they came from,
Perhaps to opulence of freedom paramount.
February 26, 2021
Placed 2nd: Spring Birds Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
You can almost swim across large parts of Florida, swim and
walk a few steps and then plunge again into the cool sexual
embrace of yet another blue swimming pool.
You can almost cross the peninsular of Florida by using the
fairways, the greens, and the links of the many golf courses.
In the everglades and other swampy parts a dragonfly can flit
from one half-submerged alligator head to another flying
miles in that hopping-stones way.
Florida has backwoods cracker-holdouts where native
Floridians sit on lawn chairs where there are no lawns. They
rest and watch the snowbirds arriving on passenger jets that
never cease coming. The folks that live out there may often
pull a 'cold one' from a cooler and spit in resigned disgust,
that copious spittle seeps into the the earth to nourish
earthworms that delve and wriggle creating minor upheavals
that occasionally weaken the subsoil forming sink holes
elsewhere. You can travel from one sink hole to another;
navigate a way around sunken cars and homes by following
the ever breaking news and ‘road-out’ police reports.
All these observations are a mighty huge exaggeration and
a rather shaky hypothesis for sure but so is the notion of
Florida.
Florida exists in the heat of the moment where all things
merge into a Disney Fantasy one often displayed upon front
yards, where ubiquitous flamingos preen; plastic garden
adornments that in Florida are a protected species.
Finally, she could get down on her knees again, not in prayer but to touch rosemary and lavender which had begun to send its fragrance into the spring and rising warmth in nature’s heart. There was no sense of regret that winter passed with revolving anticipation of summer. As she felt soil and weeds slip through her fingers, her hands embroidered new patterns in gravel and time yard directly from the canvas of happiness. A daffodil had been waiting so long to cheer her up and bowed its flower towards a flock of birds picking earthworms and seeds, ready to digest the feast and spread it way past horizon and hedges. Blackberry thorns never bothered her much and she could already taste mouth-watering sweetness on her palate as words gathered to put emotions into poetry in motion. The garden shed was overgrown with Honeysuckle and Virginia Creeper and gave thanks that her secateurs had rusted like an artefact of personal narrative. She had once cut the lawn with household scissors, but this time she decided not to prune or stunt what has to grow for a change. The garden bench needed a lick of paint though and she mixes dandelion, blue bells and wild garlic with linseed oil and saffron tincture and moves the drift wood sculpture closer to the Victorian sash window.
silken fragrance swirls
perfumes season and pasture -
fondles the future
time treasures present
unwind ephemeral scent –
only the wind knows
spring steps to the fore
portrays essence for poems –
transcendent serene
firewood settles
under leaves piled up awaits -
autumn's inglenook
( after Sachida's after the war)
There will be war, in fact, there have always been wars,
and will continue.
Wars satisfy us.
Our nasty muscles move in festive workouts,
when there is war; in hearts, minds and on tongues.
We suffer from cerebral indigestion, when deprived of
wars.
The other day, the day after his son's birthday celebrations,
with exploding music and drunken noise, which lasted
till wee hours of the night, my neighbor, somehow,
managed to transfer his frustrations upon me by littering
my backyard lawn with empty beer cans; probably
thrown over the barbed wire fence, by reveling guests
of his punk-offspring.
My dog, Snow, barked at the strange garbage with unsual
agitation.
It sensed an arrogant invasion on its fond green grass.
I too was gravely provoked and felt the need to wage
a war.
Thus, I skipped breakfast and waited for his emergence,
pacing on my courtyard in furious strides while my eyes remained glued to his front door, all throughout that sunny winter morning.
What followed next, I choose not to reproduce.
It was a war, of words, we prefer not to engage in
front of the children.
Ants crossed borders, everyday, in their tiny lifetimes.
But wage no war with termites, earthworms and roots.
They simply tolerate each other's organic aspirations.
Why do we have this genetic longings of counting corpses,
fallen chariots and diffused bombs.
Even as the good books cry for love and peace, while their
revered middlemen conspire with rulers and falsify faiths,
we are eternally charged for wars, until
nothingness will prevail in memories of ruins and ashes,
where poetry will lament with silent screams.
When you stuck your paw out from that shelter cage,
Did you have any idea whose sleeve you clawed?
Did you see a heart you needed to engage?
Was there a sense that I’d see you and applaud?
Was it your intent other pets to upstage?
How could you know I’d love a critter so flawed?
Six toes on one paw, seven on another
For some reason you knew I’d be your mother
I was not searching for a small, gray tabby
But love springs forth when we least expect it to
Born in a barn, scruffy looking, so shabby
My ferile heart you were able to subdue
It mattered not that I was tired and crabby
My feigned, rough exterior you could see through
I wanted a guard dog, surely you knew that
But I ended up with a thirteen-toed cat
One who came to know my lap as her pillow
And oddly had discriminatory taste
I’d have had more use for an armadillo
Possums on a half shell of earthworms make waste
But Katy won my heart with a tail that billowed
While eying tuna with a smirk of distaste
A fur ball she was, but I’ll not forget her
I’ve never known a more devoted lover
*Ottava Rima for Jared's contest on "New Love"
Stranded on the road, closed up tight in her shell
Too frightened to head out of the heavy traffic
I took the turtle home to make sure all was well.
She was hungry for she hadn’t eaten since a day
So I dug up four juicy earthworms and put in a bin
The first worm wiggled but the turtle didn’t prey.
We sat quietly and waited and waited and waited
Ants crawled across the pavement and we waited
Hummingbirds buzzed overhead and we waited.
Finally I noticed her eyes tracking a worm,
Slowly shifting her body in right direction
Snapped opened her jaws, picked up the worm
And gummed it to death as turtles lack teeth.
Was full after two worms, a bit in mouth like a cigar
Autism in turtles is a successful failure
Its shell, an amazing self-defense mechanism
Carry their homes and are always at home
Self sufficient mostly, long life, and endurance
Proving the proverb, “Slow and steady wins the race”.
** Inspired by a visit to Myrtle Beach State Park, SC (eastern box turtle
(Terrapene carolina carolina)
July 30, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta