Corm Poems | Examples

Norm Form

corm worm
norm form
beneath
in earth

Thoughts of a Banana Farmer

Now I

want to be a banana 
plant, swinging in the wind,
free from the knots of debt.

The shards of dreams won’t wound
me again. Ever. I’ll never be hunted
by the loan sharks with serrated teeth. The 
weevil thought cannot perforate the corm of my peace.

Away from the waves of suicide, I’ll live–listening to the
Asian koel. I can decipher that song. Someone may drop 

nutritious love into my heart; my roots will be wet 
with kindness. My cigar leaf can grow straight
into the light. The blossoming of

altruism will come out, opening my 
skull– budding. My end is made 
serene- calm, by the cogitation

of my fruitful

e
x
i
s
t
e
n
c
e.


*First published in Native Skin.
*Reprinted in The Literary Hatchet.
*Poetry Nook Weekly Contest Winner.

The Oak Tree

A gnarled lone oak tree
grew in the middle of voluminous nowhere,
amidst vast stretches of citron corm fields,
a by-product of an old man’s weird whim.
It proved quite a memorable playground,
For when I was small it was pure delight.
Oh how I loved to climb up
towards an azure sky
feeling for sturdy branches,
imbibing the smell of fresh-grown leaves.
At times I would listen to the wayward wind,
as it moaned in isolation
amidst lush green branches.
Yet when storms struck
I shied away as the winds howled
and thunder rumbled around the top twigs
of my old oak tree.
 
The last time I was there 
I was not alone.
Handsome was tagging along.
He was not interested in the old oak tree
That's when I began to hate him.
And just to prove my point
a sudden change of weather
and heavy rain fell hard.
We ran to the car but the doors stuck.
To shelter under the tree was dangerous.
Lightening zigzagged above.
The place became cursed.
Finally Handsome opened the car
and we sped away.

I never met Handsome nor visited the oak again.

Why Write a Sonnet For a Sonnet's Sake

Why write a sonnet for a sonnet's sake?
The mist has lifted and the sun is warm
Within the earth and deep inside the corm
Life waits. See how the ripples on the lake
Reflect the light, and how the grasses shake
Why stay indoors and write so in a form
That long ago did take the world by storm
But now would barely make a baby wake?

Why not? The world's excitements pass me by
Its many problems, purposes, and pains
Can stay outside. The movements of the sky
Are moments, but the sonnet still remains
And anyway, that Shakespeare, what a guy!
Yeah, this one's a Petrarchan, she explains

© Gail Foster 15th February 2023

Roses

truth in true form
withstand storm
minds transform
has their corm
beauty-norm
less deform 
look lukewarm
duties perform 

stands every great celebrity 
spell-bound in their beauty 
their smell is like fruity
aren't they so cutie?
having them is booty 
midst environs sooty
though they look bit snooty
my pen bleeds as though her duty


04 September 2022 
Charlie New-Ku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Charles Messina

Rains

RAINS

        Crowd of dense dark cloud in sky.
        A bird does not dare to fly.
       Wrath of cloud on hit of storm
.      burst in tears as rains to cry.
       Summer had left soil dry.
       Showers refreshing hard corm.
       Forgotten love to feel shy.
       Torn amour again to tie.
       Rainy season in full form.

    05/17/22

A Brian Strand Premier Choice

Contest by Brian Strand

Spring

twitching noses 
in tussocks
      of awakened primroses

rummaging on hazel boles
hibernating mammals 
poke from the holes

leafless hedgerows 
       where buds now form 
a carpet of white corm
Badgers forage 
       for food near their sett
 renewing
 their bracken scented couchette

Sparrow and robin 
            pair off in twos 
as lengthening days 
          come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
 below yellow catkins 
          with tails fine spun.

Osier shoots
      in green corn camomile
 as Spring mornings 
                                begin to smile.

February

W  I  N  T  E  R
B  R  E  A  K  S
N  A  T  U  R  E
A  W A  K  E  S
G  A  R  D  E  N
A  S  L  E  E   P
&
an oldie reposted

Fields flooded into skating rinks
into which each footstep sinks,
cracking under body weight so
not the best place to skate.

Thawing February of twitching noses
in tussocks of woken primroses.
Rummaging on hazel boles,hibernating mammals
poke from the holes.

Leafless hedgerows , buds now form
a carpet of white corm,
Badgers forage food near their sett
 renewing the bracken scented couchette.

Nature pair off in twos
 lengthening days come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
 below, yellow catkins tails fine spun.

Osier shoots in green corn camomile
 early Spring mornings begin to smile.



Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007

Freesia

Green shoots start emerging from a tiny corm
vibrant flowers bloom when sun is warm
I drink in their sweet perfume
in my living room.
I adore
bright blooms
I want more
in purple and red
growing in my flower bed
freesia flowers give such delight
their jeweled colors are a glorious sight

Writing Challenge 2, June 2019- A Summer Flower- Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart

Checked with how many syllables
6/25/19

Homage To a Daffodil

Planted in the golden phase
A solitary corm in cooling ground
Dormant during barren times
When wintry depths are transient

New light awakes the sleeping soil
The fresh green blade greets warmer climes
While earth arises yet again
To conspire with sun and rain

Pierced fragile breeze by turgid spear
As nearer to a celestial glory
Its beauty begins to unfold
Faint yellow begs for sweet release

With final burst of bloom and flourish
This golden trumpet exudes a fanfare
And heralds a stately entrance
That makes old Helios proud

Marked yellow dots sheaths of green
relief for new beginnings
With sad winter fading fast
The humble corm transformed

Wrangled Mime: Spoonerisms

Penning wrangled mime
and wared out of my skits,
I’m poked in serspiration,
My mind’s in fisted twits.

It’s not the way I spike to leak;
I’ve turned to try it down.
Still I'm rilled with florious grime,
so nothing dings me brown.

We poets are a lazy crot,
voiling with turds and worse.
Roping with the fools of corm,
dinditions so reverse.

A hong lot toke in the sub
might dude me a girl of wood.
Or how about a bun at the reach?
Well, I can’t wet a gay, but I should.

Collar Greens and Corm Bread

this meal is a deal
its a taste
its so cool so food
don't go to waste
it in the back 
no a rack
in my head
COLLAR GREENS
AND CORM BREAD

Corm Bread

am from the south
soulfood my rout
love collara green
green bean
but my theme
turning inmy head is
CORM BREAD

Winter Turns To Spring

Snowfall so heavy in 'eighty-two
 reproduced a Christmas card view.
A biting wind swirled in one foot drifts
 over hanging in bridges..makeshift.

The fields flooded into skating rinks
 into which each footstep sinks,
cracking under body weight so 
not the best place to skate.

Thawing February brings twitching noses 
in tussocks of awakened primroses.
Rummaging on hazel boles,hibernating mammals 
poke from the holes.

Leafless hedgerows where buds now form 
a carpet of white corm,
Badgers forage for food near their sett
 renewing their bracken scented couchette.

Sparrow and robin pair off in twos 
as lengthening days come into view.
aconite open in rays of sun
 below yellow catkins with tails fine spun.

Osier shoots in green corn camomile
 as early Spring mornings begin to smile.

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