Long Worm Poems
Long Worm Poems. Below are the most popular long Worm by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Worm poems by poem length and keyword.
Warning of a Worm
I am from this earth speaking with tears
To protect me and to protect this earth
We are in trillions in number serving you
as a preserver and protector of your soil
You are ruining your earth by chemicals and acids
in the name of modern cultivation
You are poisoning the earth and it’s nature
to get more yields with in a short span
We are ploughing and softening the earth
Your chemicals ,manures
Swallow our trillions as billion and millions
In a one dark day
We will be no more and you will be too
Your food and water has already changed and
already Your path has changed against to nature
From the hard and dry land
You can cultivate currencies and coins and
You can consume tablets and capsules as food
You will import oxygen and water
It is not my curse my man!
Just my premonition and a precautionary call to all of You
5/24/17
Not going to adjourn
Since you never learn
Going to make you squirm
More than a worm
With a stance that is firm
Then make you burn
So that you never return
Showing no concern
No more chances
Or free passes
You'll find out what happens
Over such foolish actions
When you are thrown into sulphuric acid
Or taken out through using gases
Then put below the grasses
And any branches
The universe continues on, as the scales tilt or balance
Whether it was done in good will or from being callous
Once or twice
Might not take your life
But make you pay the price
With the ultimate sacrifice
The outcome chosen by a roll of the dice
Since you never took advice
I think this should suffice
And if not then it will not end nice
Getting eaten alive by rats and mice
Too late to take back what you said
Going to bring you to the edge
And toss you from the ledge
Doesn't matter where you land or if it's on a hedge
So long as you remain dead
Oh well many other lifeforms will get fed
Body parts including the head, brought back to a den
Never seen or heard from again
Crawling upon desecrated ashes,
whispers haunt ~
“You will never make it.”
Vermilion skies rumble over the brutal horizon,
splitting open as a deafening rain pours forth,
drenching an already collapsing body.
Splaying nails rip into hollow earth.
Eerie silhouettes dance in the lightning flashes.
It’s getting harder to see now —
fear surging, lungs straining,
losing control.
Darkness engulfs, swallowing the sun.
Panic sets in; urgency is now a must,
for night brings what cannot be spoken.
Cortisol spikes, muscles spasm.
Faster, he must crawl ~
death is imminent if he cannot find the door.
Feeling blindly through infectious petrichor,
his palms meet nothing but cold decay.
Macabre laughter circles around him.
Praying, he reaches out one more time —
unsuccessfully.
Closing his eyes, red-hot pain
flows over his flesh,
devoured by the very demons
he could not escape.
This cute little creature trundles along,
He cannot speak, nor sing a song,
He cannot run, for love nor dime,
Nor decipher day from the nighttime.
To labor the point, he can barely see,
He only wishes to be free.
He asks no money, nor food or drink,
For he cannot like us think.
A worm or two is all he seeks,
He’ll forage alone, he’ll forage for weeks,
And yet we poke him, just for fun,
Laugh and joke once the deed is done.
His spikes intrigue, we cannot help,
The sad thing is he cannot yelp.
He cannot cross the road in time,
For we see the evidence of our crime.
What has he done? He does not deserve,
This precious creature, we must preserve.
He cannot ask to let him be,
But if not, the hedgehog, we may not see!
To be forever bent in a lack of better term
To lie still in darkness like a sad, blind worm
To eat your words as a form of grainy nourishment
To smell the dampness of your tempered encouragement
It is a blessing like no other
To be speechless but so full of color
And to feel the good digest to the mass
No matter how blind we have come to pass
There are beings that long to comfort us
As we lie still in the gloom of lush
There is a presence that may appear obscure
Blank faces that are captured in a blur
They are the observers and they are so still
They absorb what they can and eat what they will
There is nothing to fear for they are our benediction
Out in the sidelines trading gravity for friction
They are not angels I am told
They are not demons, dark and bold
They are quiet spirits that are attracting our minds
They choose many—all various kinds
It is inspiring to know that the following beings
Engorge on our souls—such nurturing feedings!
Eyes are opening in blissful imagination
As they cultivate the grounds with twangs of inspiration
The observers will watch us all until the conclusion
What they see is what we imagine—and the rest is an illusion
What am I ?
I am a conqueror of all beings—
my existence bears no explanation,
an unequipped instruction manual.
I am a compass without a clear path of direction.
I’ve been accepted, rejected,
appearing unexpected,
and too often in this world, neglected.
Every emotion, every decision made,
every passionate act of motivated infatuation.
I am a bittersweet creation
that requires time and patience.
I bring grief, laughter, and hope.
I make you cry, wonder, and mope.
I am used with kisses and spoken in wishes,
sometimes paired with, sprinkled on,
and cooked in favourite dishes.
Carried with depression,
a worm in your confession.
I am taught, advised,
an example of a lesson.
I am searched for,
dreamed of,
ignored, and treated as a chore.
Lost, borrowed, broken, and repaired—
feared for my pain, yet used in bravery when scared.
I am one thing,
one element,
one word.
I contain only four letters,
yet carry entire lives, and the reason some survive—
making it worth your while to persevere , and care to be alive.
I am love
They fortified themselves into an Alamo of their own making
Walled themselves to keep the weird one out –namely me.
I thought it was brilliant, and it was totally unexpected.
I knew them, and had no idea they were this creative
I had grown up with them, in spite of them, fading them.
My little sister wanted a window, but she was outvoted
They had dusted off their sandals, they wanted nothing to do with me
I had been born an interloper, and had remained an outsider all my life
Which was okay with me, for I never felt less welcome anywhere
Okay, maybe one place, but that was just for a couple of seconds.
Finally my little sister escaped the family status quo
She had never believed in my evilness, for she knew me
She remembered some good things; maybe all good things
I had adored her, and frankly, you cannot fool a child.
She looked me up, and we began a friendship.
It was an opportunity for me to worm my way back.
But I was an eagle now, no longer a worm,
So I allowed the walls to remain tightly bound shut
Glad she had created a door though.
A robin sits
fat and puffed eyeing the leaves
scattered in the melting flow
amidst the winter waning snow.
She pecks upon the ground
until some savory sustenance is found,
be it seed or bug or worm
hidden life that exists after the storm.
Skipping quickly along the open earth
she freely shares her space
with dove, sparrow and tiny wren
as squirrels pursue each other in a chase.
Lingering in the warmth
of the bright and glowing sun,
she flies up into the holly tree
and picks every berry that she sees.
Her breast so brownish red in spring
is faded hues of white and umber
giving into the chill of winter slumber
but determination lies within her wings.
She is the harbinger of seasons change
despite the snow, the barrenness of the land
her appearence is not strange
only promises drawn by a greater hand.
Matthew 6:26
Look at the birds in the sky. They don't sow seed or harvest grain or gather crops into barns. Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren't you worth much more than they are?
Jeremy's Girls.
Jeremy loses each girl that he gets
Because they all take second place to his pets
Keeping this one around meant he had to get rid
of all of his pets, so here's what he did...
He buried his worm and drowned his pet fish
He threw his cockatoo over a cliff
He shoved his python high up in a tree
And he dropped his pet dolphin into the sea
His rock lizard got a small hole in a wall
While his cat had to live somewhere terribly tall
His Horses were left in a field with some hay
While his Tortoise would get just a lettuce a day
His Penguin was dumped in a pond full of fish
And his dog just got biscuits and meat in his dish
His newt he placed under a very wet stone
While his sly old pet fox had to eat all alone
His pet cow was left to eat nothing but grass
While his favourite tapeworm he tucked somewhere dark
Someone once told him to just trust his mother
And one day his lady ran off with another
And so we get close to where this story ends
A life with no lady, a life with no friends
Everyday was such a miserable day
Now that his pets had all gone away
But one day he heard a noise outside his door
His pets were all there, perhaps a few more
They fortified themselves into an Alamo of their own making
Walled themselves to keep the weird one out –namely me.
I thought it was brilliant, and it was totally unexpected.
I knew them, and had no idea they were this creative
I had grown up with them, in spite of them, fading them.
My little sister wanted a window, but she was outvoted
They had dusted off their sandals, they wanted nothing to do with me
I had been born an interloper, and had remained an outsider all my life
Which was okay with me, for I never felt less welcome anywhere
Okay, maybe one place, but that was just for a couple of seconds.
Finally my little sister escaped the family status quo
She had never believed in my evilness, for she knew me
She remembered some good things; maybe all good things
I had adored her, and frankly, you cannot fool a child.
She looked me up, and we began a friendship.
It was an opportunity for me to worm my way back.
But I was an eagle now, no longer a worm,
So I allowed the walls to remain tightly bound shut
Glad she had created a door though.