Eyeball Poems - Poems about Eyeball

Eyeball My left eyeball while I’m asleep likes to wander as far away as Japan. ...

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Single cell organisms scatter the gigantic globe (Ten times the size of Earth, perhaps the size of Jupiter). We, mere humans don’t exist there. We couldn’t, gravity is too strong. Only amoeba like creatures could live there, alien planktonkind. We would be too heavy, even children. They exist many many light years away from us, next...

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How the world should be and isn’t My choices could but don’t What maybe might tomorrow voids The spinning vortex —won’t (Dreamsleep: December, 2023) ...

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. I Rest on ...

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In the roaring White pounding cascade I feel the love It flows over me, with me, through me It is me Wordsworth's "transparent eyeball" * Like the bare roots of ancient trees that cover the trail like cobble stones I'm Integral--I belong When the bracing water embraces me I don't shudder--I stroke it gently Glide out into it's energy Feel revived, renewed, invigorated Refreshment not known Since...

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What is she making? Someone asks, wondering aloud. She is a pretty girl, friendly, but not overly loud. It looks like something red, someone replies. Maybe berries? There is a little bit of tittering from the tea leaf faeries. She is making eyeball tea, they begin to sing in rhyme. It is lemon like, so fruity, we drink it all...

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Eyeball god in mouth Ostara?...Dio?...Luna? ... Is light as hunger for colors? Eros the god of eyes and the hidden feelings shameful man with erect cock -- sighing sex in his heart -- a crack, deep and wide! Black Hole! Punk rock for a Black Hole! Rainbow and jubilee exploded in flood! Like a ***** universe all of our pornographic desires moments of starving stars...

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Eyeball soup. Wonderfully tasting. Deliciously made, sweet and pasty. Cinnamon-seasoned, also some thyme. Vegetable laden, scrumptious and fine. Fisheyes are best, but goats are good too. Nothing sooths me like warm eyeball soup....

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Nagging pain invades my eye; the aura lasts for weeks. Stabbing, searing hot poker jabs into my brain; branding my eye. Migraine owns me now; there are no drugs to relieve my agony. ...

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Despite the wealth of creams applied Old Father Time won't be denied And as that watershed appears I can't complain at fifty years Though just one thing for which I pray To throw those blessed specs away! The years drift by and eyes grow dim The fight to keep the body trim It really is a bitter pill They say from now it's all...

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