Best Worms Poems
Gummy Worms
Everybody likes me.
Nobody hates me.
Because I share my worms –
Yummy, yummy gummy worms
Sour and sweet yummy worms
Sitting in my kitchen, sharing worms!
(SHOUT!)
Yummy, yummy gummy worms!
Collaboration by Dane Smith-Johnsen and her 6 year old grandson
Inspired by the Childhood song, “Sittin’ in the Garden eatin’ Worms”
June 13, 2010
Dirty worms squirming
Excavating with instinct
Wiggle brown wormy ~
Shoveling thick dirt
Accidently cut a worm
It wiggles in pain
Dedicated to David Meade The Haiku Master
Worms have real bad luck
Always getting hooked on things
Sounds fishy to me
© Jack Ellison 2014
It's raining, it's pouring
The old man is snoring
Song is driving Mom crazy
I'm gonna to draw her a daisy
Yay, the rain is stopping
I don't want to go shopping
I want to go out and play
I promise to put my crayons away
I'll wear my boots, I won't get wet
Wait, I'm not done colouring yet
The puddles are sure sparkling bright
Daddy, why are clouds grey and white?
Where did all these worms come from?
No, worms are not dirty and not dumb!
Mom! My brother is being really mean
I'll wash them in the puddles, they'll be clean
I love rain, cause the worms come out
Don't ya think I'll make a good girl scout?
Ooh, look at that one, he's so big and fat
Can I keep him as my pet, I don't want a cat
I can name him squirmy, he'll be my friend
Is his face at the front or at the back end?
But he'll miss his friends and be so sad
Plus my sister will get really, really mad
She don't like worms and won't let you in our room
And Mom might sweep you up with her broom
So I'll come and play with you after the rain
That way nobody will ever, ever complain.
Wiggly Worms
They took out both tonsils and each adenoid
And now another sore throat I cannot avoid
There is nothing with left to collect the germs
Which once were dangling and wiggling worms.
Stopped complaining and conclusion came to
Very sharp object is someone's point of view
Once was lost and then looked all over town
Until finally soon it had been narrowed down.
Chuckle, chuckle, laugh, laugh and then smile
Does seem to be my great and glorious style
And to accept British Isle's beauty did refuse
We both did decide to go on a destined cruise.
Then that was when I soon started to see
All the others were laughing along with me
When I started wanting to take a shower
Never could find one in the London Tower.
Was freezing outside and we grabbed our coat
And soon started back in our beautiful boat
We both looked back at beautiful British Isles
No wonder we were wearing so many smiles.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran
Tom tom drums call men unto war
The Euphrates dries in preparation
Of a Third world war as Gog and Magog
Start a Cataclysmic war that unchecked
Will lead to an outright world war
Russia is on the offensive in arms against
A colleague of the Russian federation
By name Ukraine is daily bombarded
Carpet bombing NATO names it
As they western powers Arm Ukraine
And dogs of war, by name Mercenaries
Are shipped in droves to support the underdog
The Big USA uncle Sam as they call Her
Peddles her weaponry to the downtrodden Ukraine
As rumors of war abound.. They call it war propaganda
There will be wars and rumors of war but the end is not yet
The end comes when the Beelzebub Prince makes peace
With the Holy Land.. Ooh JERUSALEMA.. why am I reminded of ACRE
I dig beneath the autumn leaves among the earthy rot
To free an earthworm situated there its freedom to fresh air
Thus I grasp the wiggler- tis slimy and wet-it wiggles all the more
And place it in an old fruit jar amongst brethren already there
Now hunkered on yonder river bank I reach into this bait filled jar
To grasp a wiggly wiggler and skew it to my line
That it may do its job as only it best can do
Then a moment poised over the water then baptized anew
Sit I do until the wiggler is caught -a tug then reel him back with glee
For the fight is joy due to wiggler’s ploy
Tis great that I have worms
For I get all the glory
Politicians are skilled at squirms
which indubitably confirms
one cannot bake
a cake from snake
by opening a can of worms
Relax Honey... The Worms Will Play!
Oh honey one day,
We will both part;
To rot in graves,
And waste away:
Playing with worms,
And dancing with maggots,
As they climb all around.
Relax love all is well!
Soon we'll be down bellow,
Cavorting with the others, under the ground.
Mummy says I shouldn’t eat juicy wiggly worms
She said that they are mucky and they’re full of nasty germs
I never take no notice though, and when she isn’t looking
I’ll eat some scrummy worms because, they’re better than her cooking
Corona Virus..... oh shut up or shut down?
We are all in the same crisis run-a-round.
With or without Trump and Brexit it's the same ole' coffin.
There's no cure for the gormless boffin.
by
Martin Braun
3/14/2020
"Bold" was all I could think about his plan
To just go fishing and not go to school
Brilliant was what it was - on or off hand -
All who saw it that day thought it was cool
Worms was what was lacking - and that was all
So I dug around until bait was had
Slimy things fishing worms, just a gross ball,
But it's a thing for bringing fish to hand
So slipping out a school room door that day-
Two boys, a can of worms, a fishing plan -
Until Mrs Smith then caught on to our play
And stuck a hand into our wormy can
Sounds that I did not know - but did Mrs Smith
Still may stay in that school room air forthwith
7-15-20
Contest: Lipogram Poem
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
We were worms all of us
Not quite the food of hawks or eagles
Burried in crunchy crust
I was the one that walked the beagles
Fed the cat
Washed the mat
And made all the toilets smile
I was the one happy with the chance to toil
We we worms all of us
From Europe all over
Our bodies sang in chorus
Peeling the apple for hunger
We wriggled to the core
Bit hard seeds in search of hope
Dream drunk and very poor
New York was big enough for scope
Of everything, except this
The cold and frumpy mist.
And deep in the heart of it, I heard
The cry of the predator bird
The ashes of the years diffuse in dust,
Their motes exuding mauvish glow
That alters gray to black. But I’ve no trust
In Time, that cut-purse thief, who robs us so.
For, grave ward borne, my gathered decades shorn
From off my limbs, my soul but cuts adrift
And cheats the maggotry of Death. Forlorn
And cheated, Satan rues my flight! Christ’s gift
Of sweet perpetuation foils those worms of Earth
Who rend my flesh when nothing live, lives there.
My human husk decays…to ‘wait rebirth.
Ethereal, my soul’s exultant, where
Abide infinities of angels…white
And efflorescent…beaming lucent light.
Oh I have done it now, I have failed you yet
Upon whose bones and shoulders I've trampled
With the rightful heir's death
Chaining myself to a throne of thorns
Unequally yoked with my kinsmen
Who drag the crown over these hallowed grounds
The dead tell no lies for we do it for them
So come, let us talk of graves and epitaphs
And how with vile worms I lie
My merits lived and sealed
Such grave errors do accent my frailties
Let me ease your sorrows with my ghostly hymns
We'll leave this country to the just vagabonds
May they rob this grave of my woes and my debt
------
For the Shakespeare contest. From Richard II