If I am to remain
In this land, within this breath,
Lord, grant me permission!
The right to smell the scent of flowers,
The right to look upon those green hills,
The right to win the heart of a fair maiden.
Intoxicated by the ale bestowed by God,
Proclaim that I am truly alive!
When I open my eyes, my voice carried upon the blue waves,
Give me the divine right
To behold the smile of a fair maiden!
If You, Lord, acknowledge and proclaim my land,
I shall become an eagle,
Freely dropping earthworms to the cats of the seventh generation,
And at times, I too shall swallow that prey.
a poet's words
here I am naked
a featherbrained poet's words
uncovered by rhyme
the late worm
the unsung late worm
too lazy to join his mate
slips the early bird
more late worms
the sun dries the rain
a myriad of earthworms
left the party late
GOLD WINNER
SHORTFORM POEM
JUNE 26 : Allpoetry Contest
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fake mausoleum art to blurb
with fish moths and earthworms quiet inert
it does not matter, Jake ~
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farmer's turn up soil
earthworms wiggle in fear
fishes next catch
Snuggle down and cuddle up
For the nights are drawing in.
Listen! Worms are burrowing
Deep down to below the frost line
To the black damp
Sweet damp Kingdom of the earthworm.
Six feet under
In subterranean chambers,
These humble sinkers,
Tunnel to the hum and pulse
Of the seasons.
Dragging and pulling,
Loaming and ploughing
A mosh of decaying debris down
Beneath the overburden,
Into the clag and quiet crush
Of the dark soil.
Worms, the intestines of the earth
In endless toil turn the world
Over, and over, and over.
In the cosy of my blanket
I hug my cup of tea,
And I look out above and beyond me
Up to the autumnal skies.
A twilight of stars
Flung far across the deepening violet,
Twinkle old light.
I ponder the nebula -
Neighbouring planets with their own histories,
And stories of water.
What became of their worms?
Venus worms, Mars worms,
Jupiter and Saturn worms -
What fate awaits the Earth worms?
Our dormant earthworms
Sleeping cold tight,
Deep down, away from the light.
Earthworms coiled spherical
In their protective sheen of dew,
Patiently waiting springs anew.
Some have better things to do,
before the crack of morn,
than digging for earthworms
in the dew-soaked dawn,
but no not me, you see,
as, the longer I looked
for the creepy-crawlies,
the more I was hooked.
'Why that time of day?', ask you may,
well, as my daily wish, is a tasty breakfast dish,
I had heard, somewhat like the bird,
the early worm catches the fish.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
The vixen is teaching her cubs to dance,
The dance of the fox trot.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Mid-March marks the wild animal masquerade
As the crimson embers of dusk fade,
The worm moon is rising.
Stars swoon to the moonlit tunes
Of the song thrush and warbler,
More subtle and melancholic
Than the chorus of dawn;
The jazz of the chiffchaff
And nightjar acoustics.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow.
The glade is spotlit,
Luminous, sublime and silvered.
Humble earthworms deep in the ground
Awoken and beckoned to the spring sound,
To the rise and fall of the dance.
The cubs’ eyes alight with secrets,
The vixen wears her finest gown
Silken, and lustrous,
Her dog fox cloaked in shadows.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Last summer's velveteen foxgloves
Silence the rhythm of her paws,
Beautiful but deadly.
He brushed in tails is a smooth elegance
Of sleek copper shimmer.
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
Slow, slow, quick, quick,
They gather as a promenade of hunters.
Let the carnival begin!
fairy ring beckoned with fallen oaks the seat
she loosened blond hair for all elves to see
dancing in a circle around one rock deep
toadstools were there numerous with buzzing bees
owl hooted deep, arriving late afternoon
in distance farmhouse empty, sported balloons
spiders and grasshoppers smashed cymbals and drums
vineyard workers sleepily dreamily hummed
fat strawberries blood red on juicy offer
down she descended into a loamy hole
to examine nourishing cocoa coffers
then taste spiced cherry brandy alongside moles
her pink petalled dress became nastily soiled
she lost her wide crimson hat to earthworms coiled
tunnels were decorated with soft chestnuts
ladybugs slowly shopped for investment huts
below she found busy beetles, flora seeds
grey weevils digging into sour rotting leaves
roots of varying colours with buried beads
entangled were elf lovers like naughty thieves
teasingly were filled with the fruity brandy
many were heady drunk they became angry
she judiciously spotted coloured bangles
happily returned to own tree bespangled !
**
The twigs of March drip,
and dangle ~ late in the day birdsong returns.
Pinched veins leach through uncurling buds,
sap thickens needle
frond and stalk.
Earthworms form oracle rings,
that rise up
from the mud to nurse the wet soil.
Iron skies shuffle their skylights.
fermenting airs soften murk
to tepid mists.
Above the hedgerows
a gloom is burying its ghosts,
At last, heedful wombs
are stirring under thicket,
berm and windbreak.
A new proud king of
forest had new dream-
dream of being in
history, till books
become history
He welcomed next day's
Sun with new vigor,
made rules in jiffy
ruling, ruled and rules
had to follow sure
clawed, hoofed, webbed, toed, heeled
all to offer part
of whatever chewed
lesser things to give
part of little haves
earthworms, termites, ants
millipedes, snails, worms
should clear out, too soon
king liked forest floor
to be tidy clean
trees of aged wisdom
stood in stun silence
feared to give advice
so they learn to wait
as king waits to learn
Green twigs drip late into the day,
birdsongs bloom from the windblown.
Soft are the veins that leach from new leaf.
Sweet the prodigal sap that seeps.
Earthworms salt and curl in the opulent swirl,
swell in the muddy and proclaiming.
Full are the snuggery wombs.
Full the burgeoning buds.
Fulsome the wellsprings,
the green hush of new awakenings.
Heart does butterfly flips
When he kisses Lilly lips
Breeze blows blues away
At ease spring lovers at play
A little nip at his neck
Tender makes soft and wet
Forehead with beads of sweat
Touches of love never forget
Sundress glows in gold rays
Story told of bold soul days
That now shows a red face
Satin underneath ravishing place
Birds sing sweetly a new song
He discreetly totes heart along
Like bell ringing wind chime chirp
Sage eyes drinking his chest no shirt
Skinny dipping is not amber allowed
We’re not tripping no one here now
Except earthworms fish and bull frogs
Jump in with me let’s cool off
Skinny dipping in shade of a tree
Hearts skipping like pebble on spring
Color me naughty full of passion for you
Fun spring love under skies in youth
I have given many a thought to what happens when we die, specifically, what happens to our bodies. You have the option to be classically buried, cremated, donated to science. I think I don't want to be cremated, kept in a jar or the specks of my former self thrown across water. I think I don't want to donate myself to science, lying on a cold metal slab for years. I think I don't even want to be buried, at least not traditionally, set in a wooden or metal box marked by a plain slab of stone. I want to be buried in the forest, no casket, no headstone. Mark my resting place by flowers, wrap my body in leaves and let me melt into the ground, decaying alongside bones of animals forgotten, let birdsong be my funeral organ, let the willows do the weeping, let the toadstools and earthworms feast themselves on my corpse. And let it be that my soul does not rise to heaven above nor to hell below, rather seeps into the soil, into the seeds and moss, allows the remnants of my earthly form to grow into beauty once again.
As I walk down the road on a rainy day,
The skies weep, and the roads shine dull gray.
I weave through the traffic to find my way,
And spot an earthworm braving the fray.
Its fragile form, crushed by a tyre’s tread,
Yet it writhes and fights, refusing to be dead.
I feel a pang, but I cannot be its savior—
Who am I to save when I, too, waver?
The earthworm's battle seems my own
Struggling to rise from a world unknown
Am I not an earthworm, lost on this earth,
Struggling to prove my worth since birth?
I think I’m a savior to those I hold dear,
But my battles leave me weary, unclear.
Aren’t we all earthworms in this endless strife,
Searching for peace through the chaos of life?
Yet we fight to win, to survive, to reign,
Then feel helpless, bound by invisible chains.
The earth bears witness to our fragile endeavor,
And whispers softly, "I, too, am an earthworm forever."
This planet, floating in the universe’s expanse,
Is but another wanderer, given a chance.
Written by Suresh Iyer
Still sitting under the blue sky
Waiting for you, my love
Not minding the cold wind
Patiently I still wait you here
Holding my cellphone for your reply
Our neighbors already sleep
The singing earthworms the one remain
And some crackling sound from afar
Are my companions in waiting you here
My eyes already want to sleep
But I did not permit to weaken me
How long I should wait I don't know
I have decided to wait you here
Through midnight till dawn I will
Till you'll be here my love and safe.
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