"earwigs" poems - Hello Poetry

He speaks the language of flowers Quietly toiling in his garden Digging, raking and smoothing soil, Gently coaxing nature to match his vision. He knows the bees, spiders, beetles, worms and earwigs Regarding them as friends. He follows seasons, moon and stars As others do people Enthralled at the changes they bring. He listens as the birds sing Watching with joy as Fledgling take wing.

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Jun 24, 2018

Jun 24, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC

polar

He

He speaks the language of flowers Quietly toiling in his garden Digging, raking and smoothing soil, Gently coaxing nature to match his vision. He knows the bees, spiders, beetles, worms and earwigs Regarding them as friends. He follows seasons, moon and stars As others do people Enthralled at the changes they bring. He listens as the birds sing Watching with joy as Fledgling take wing.

12

I dug ten arthritis pains deep The cool earth's full worth sunk beneath And then. when old Midas gained sleep A pooled corpse pooled forth from its heath And thus revealed the pungent mass Form of twig, thorn, vine, and berry Banana peels and rotting grass Slick earwigs, horned beetles merry En mis jardines de brujos mandaba a los amigos: Formicidae, Armadillidium, Gastropoda, and Annelida all Wake for the feast of the beasts by this call Take of your share where the least of you crawl

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Jun 1, 2016

Jun 1, 2016 at 2:05 AM UTC

anwarhahj

Compost Heap

I dug ten arthritis pains deep The cool earth's full worth sunk beneath And then. when old Midas gained sleep A pooled corpse pooled forth from its heath And thus revealed the pungent mass Form of twig, thorn, vine, and berry Banana peels and rotting grass Slick earwigs, horned beetles merry En mis jardines de brujos mandaba a los amigos: Formicidae, Armadillidium, Gastropoda, and Annelida all Wake for the feast of the beasts by this call Take of your share where the least of you crawl

13

Doubt grows in my mind Like earwigs Nesting Reproducing A new generation Chewing on little Pink nerve endings Slowly poisoning Taffy pulling All the sticky Memories out When you say you have your doubts I hear mosquitos I read broken glass In my crystal ball But all my tarot cards are wands Hmmm... In my head I'm already gone Like that Eagles song But to Santa Fe Because slow is not a game That I play well The dragonflies in my stomach Are ringing like lunch bells And the doubt is Curled up on the couch Purring softly Shedding everywhere And I don't own a vacuum It's everywhere But I want to be with you When you kiss me It melts my insides Little drops of mercury In pills on the floor Banned books you loaned Burning up my naive little mind Henry Miller took my innocence A long time ago I would never ask for it back From an ex-pat And the note taped inside the cover Said You are divine And I want you to be happy With a pocket full of dust or a million dollars But the doubt Is like a dam Bursting behind my eyes Flooding every one-horse town in its path Thank the Bureau of Reclamation for that I may doubt till I die But here's the thing When you kiss me It's like every little piece of me is tingling Is ringing Like those grade school Lunch bells And I'd make a crossroads deal I'd sell my soul And fill the emptiness with your blues I'd do anything to get rid of the doubts Curled up softly Purring Sleeping soundly on the foot of our bed Shedding everywhere The can of doubt food on the shelf May contain arsenic The closet may be cleaned out Ready to hold our new vacuum

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Jun 9, 2013

Jun 9, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC

holly-salvatore

Doubt

Doubt grows in my mind Like earwigs Nesting Reproducing A new generation Chewing on little Pink nerve endings Slowly poisoning Taffy pulling All the sticky Memories out When you say you have your doubts I hear mosquitos I read broken glass In my crystal ball But all my tarot cards are wands Hmmm... In my head I'm already gone Like that Eagles song But to Santa Fe Because slow is not a game That I play well The dragonflies in my stomach Are ringing like lunch bells And the doubt is Curled up on the couch Purring softly Shedding everywhere And I don't own a vacuum It's everywhere But I want to be with you When you kiss me It melts my insides Little drops of mercury In pills on the floor Banned books you loaned Burning up my naive little mind Henry Miller took my innocence A long time ago I would never ask for it back From an ex-pat And the note taped inside the cover Said You are divine And I want you to be happy With a pocket full of dust or a million dollars But the doubt Is like a dam Bursting behind my eyes Flooding every one-horse town in its path Thank the Bureau of Reclamation for that I may doubt till I die But here's the thing When you kiss me It's like every little piece of me is tingling Is ringing Like those grade school Lunch bells And I'd make a crossroads deal I'd sell my soul And fill the emptiness with your blues I'd do anything to get rid of the doubts Curled up softly Purring Sleeping soundly on the foot of our bed Shedding everywhere The can of doubt food on the shelf May contain arsenic The closet may be cleaned out Ready to hold our new vacuum

69

. returning to my childhood home in thought returning to mallard quacks tolling and the hour toiled by ever thirsty church bells cold damp rock house with ammonites and belemnites coiling in the walls and a cooling ichthyosaur futilely trying to swim in the silty soil struggling to catch prey beneath the foundation its darkness is rummage . a flush lawn planted nilly and obscene monkshood mint cotton grass and ling warm mentions an evening fire and the family room i'm mooding through the memory and it grooms apart organic birthing not river not smoke rat sized earwigs take to the air heat over the boiling tar garage roof and i return home back through time child swinging on thick vines suspended by the yew over the stream the willows dapple and paddle the fir trees return fierce sproutings of involving shade ridding the house of the intruder new extension riding time back and the caravan my parents would later park on concrete is swallowed the storms of a bad year return the old wall at the property edge and the cottage reforms an ancient pace with its surroundings . it's no longer my families claimed place re-seemed with ghoulish history the workhouse returns and files with hard poverty the wall punches through in what will be the kitchen and the cottage runs through long with the neighbours space dormitory takes the whole upstairs length and the legend of the garment thief drops ghost and rumour to live again and then all this too flees out of history . rushing back through time and this all sinks into the levels swamp life takes over and the ammonites moisten with anticipation prehistory is sprout to begin .

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Sep 23, 2025

Sep 23, 2025 at 10:08 AM UTC

neth-jones

. . . . s t o n e . c o t t a g e

. returning to my childhood home in thought returning to mallard quacks tolling and the hour toiled by ever thirsty church bells cold damp rock house with ammonites and belemnites coiling in the walls and a cooling ichthyosaur futilely trying to swim in the silty soil struggling to catch prey beneath the foundation its darkness is rummage . a flush lawn planted nilly and obscene monkshood mint cotton grass and ling warm mentions an evening fire and the family room i'm mooding through the memory and it grooms apart organic birthing not river not smoke rat sized earwigs take to the air heat over the boiling tar garage roof and i return home back through time child swinging on thick vines suspended by the yew over the stream the willows dapple and paddle the fir trees return fierce sproutings of involving shade ridding the house of the intruder new extension riding time back and the caravan my parents would later park on concrete is swallowed the storms of a bad year return the old wall at the property edge and the cottage reforms an ancient pace with its surroundings . it's no longer my families claimed place re-seemed with ghoulish history the workhouse returns and files with hard poverty the wall punches through in what will be the kitchen and the cottage runs through long with the neighbours space dormitory takes the whole upstairs length and the legend of the garment thief drops ghost and rumour to live again and then all this too flees out of history . rushing back through time and this all sinks into the levels swamp life takes over and the ammonites moisten with anticipation prehistory is sprout to begin .

59

A thousand grasshoppers hop from blade of grass to blade of grass in the overgrown countryside Playing a melodious melody for me concealed somewhere in the grassland Chirp, whistle, thrash From early morning to the dark of night The sun’s born in the east but we watch it die in the west The spider weaves her web a silky complex blueprint that only the imagination of nature can manufacture Like the spider's design stenciled from one place to another Everyone is abundantly outfitted in life to be extraordinary The cicadas hibernate for seventeen years before emerging from earth before emerging from split shells dug into the bark on forest pine Imagine their terrible twos spent locked inside the ground Angst-ridden and ready to greet and eat the world in buzzing clouds blocking out the sky Earwigs are born from locust husks I've seen it with my own eyes Crawling down from a tree with seeds of sea urchins falling and littering the ground The sunlight never reaches the bottom of the ocean Only the glimmering light of the angular fish Luring prey into a mouth of awaiting ********** teeth The effects of nature can be profound If one only listens to the sound

0

Nov 6, 2011

Nov 6, 2011 at 10:41 AM UTC

TonguesOfOthers

Untitled Nature Poem

A thousand grasshoppers hop from blade of grass to blade of grass in the overgrown countryside Playing a melodious melody for me concealed somewhere in the grassland Chirp, whistle, thrash From early morning to the dark of night The sun’s born in the east but we watch it die in the west The spider weaves her web a silky complex blueprint that only the imagination of nature can manufacture Like the spider's design stenciled from one place to another Everyone is abundantly outfitted in life to be extraordinary The cicadas hibernate for seventeen years before emerging from earth before emerging from split shells dug into the bark on forest pine Imagine their terrible twos spent locked inside the ground Angst-ridden and ready to greet and eat the world in buzzing clouds blocking out the sky Earwigs are born from locust husks I've seen it with my own eyes Crawling down from a tree with seeds of sea urchins falling and littering the ground The sunlight never reaches the bottom of the ocean Only the glimmering light of the angular fish Luring prey into a mouth of awaiting ********** teeth The effects of nature can be profound If one only listens to the sound

35

My garden's a mess never at it's best although things grow they grow oh so slow. I've mended the soil and put in my toil there are bees all around and I've watered the ground. I've rousted the insect slugs, earwigs and miscreants I planted in June and prayed to the moon. Morning glories abound they twine all around the squash and the shovel that leans on my hovel. I lounge in my chair drink beer and stare at the bees in their feats Spearmint their treat. Maybe next year, I dream it will all be serene right now no blue ribbon I'd only be fibbin'. The harvest no boast but will raise a toast to the bees and glories in this garden story.

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Sep 24, 2016

Sep 24, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC

LeaettaMay

Taking Stock

My garden's a mess never at it's best although things grow they grow oh so slow. I've mended the soil and put in my toil there are bees all around and I've watered the ground. I've rousted the insect slugs, earwigs and miscreants I planted in June and prayed to the moon. Morning glories abound they twine all around the squash and the shovel that leans on my hovel. I lounge in my chair drink beer and stare at the bees in their feats Spearmint their treat. Maybe next year, I dream it will all be serene right now no blue ribbon I'd only be fibbin'. The harvest no boast but will raise a toast to the bees and glories in this garden story.

28

Coffee w/ a friend Black w/ three sugar Talking of arts: Music and martial, what made us sad, what we found frightening. We would rather be covered in snakes than earwigs Across the room a young lady peered into my soul I bare my ****** smile she blushes w/ laughter Blonde as the sun Fresh as a ****** She waved at me through the glass Later, she dances to get my attention swirling like a pin wheel mouthing a sweet, banshee scream

0

Apr 18, 2013

Apr 18, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC

cory-ellis

Coffee w/ a Friend

Coffee w/ a friend Black w/ three sugar Talking of arts: Music and martial, what made us sad, what we found frightening. We would rather be covered in snakes than earwigs Across the room a young lady peered into my soul I bare my ****** smile she blushes w/ laughter Blonde as the sun Fresh as a ****** She waved at me through the glass Later, she dances to get my attention swirling like a pin wheel mouthing a sweet, banshee scream

19

I think I have bed bugs. And I think they might be trying To gnaw Away A couple layers of skin To show me what's really concealed Underneath. I think they're trying to show That something has been Changing. Sometimes I think I hear earwigs Scuttle in my hair, at night Whispering, whispering Thoughts best left alone, that I told myself I wouldn't hear Anymore. And they tell me There's spiders Weaving thoughts in my brain. Connecting memories With feelings That don't rhyme. "A little torment never Hurt anyone," the earwigs say While the spiders are cheating me Out of a healing sleep. I could try to squash them; But I don't think I'm the type. I guess they win They can have the bed.

0

Apr 15, 2016

Apr 15, 2016 at 6:25 PM UTC

psychocasual

i'm infested with you

I think I have bed bugs. And I think they might be trying To gnaw Away A couple layers of skin To show me what's really concealed Underneath. I think they're trying to show That something has been Changing. Sometimes I think I hear earwigs Scuttle in my hair, at night Whispering, whispering Thoughts best left alone, that I told myself I wouldn't hear Anymore. And they tell me There's spiders Weaving thoughts in my brain. Connecting memories With feelings That don't rhyme. "A little torment never Hurt anyone," the earwigs say While the spiders are cheating me Out of a healing sleep. I could try to squash them; But I don't think I'm the type. I guess they win They can have the bed.

30

April shower bring May flowers, that's what my mother used to say. And that if lightening strikes, please do not freight, for the angles they do rearrange. But do not fall asleep , near where earwigs creep, or they'll crawl right into you're brain. And don't be pushed around, or sink to the ground, when others speak of cruel things. Stand up and shout, were others do doubt, fight for what you believe. Be kind to yourself, above anyone else, for that is how you succeed.

0

May 6, 2015

May 6, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC

charlie-smith

April showers

April shower bring May flowers, that's what my mother used to say. And that if lightening strikes, please do not freight, for the angles they do rearrange. But do not fall asleep , near where earwigs creep, or they'll crawl right into you're brain. And don't be pushed around, or sink to the ground, when others speak of cruel things. Stand up and shout, were others do doubt, fight for what you believe. Be kind to yourself, above anyone else, for that is how you succeed.

23