"squirmy" poems
Octavian Octopus
lives In the sea
with eight long tentacles
to hug you and me
He spends his days
with Seahorse Sabrina
who dreams longingly
of being a ballerina
Octavian wants so much
to be like his crony
but sadly, all of his
dance moves are bologna.
Still he felt that
he needed to impress
his funky fresh pal
in the pretty pink dress
so for hours, Octavian
practiced his spins and his twirls
he even got a costume
with glittery frills
So came the day
of the big talent show
He could show old Sabrina
that he too, was a pro
But alas,
half way through his act
his big squirmy arms
got caught in a crack
He tripped and he stumbled
and fell off the platform
tears started to fall
and away, he started to storm
"Stop!" a voice shouted at him
and he turned around to see
his best friend Sabrina
giggling with glee
"the very best dancer,
you don't need to be
if you really want to
be friends with me"
He smiled and she laughed
"you're very cool, you silly-old-goof,
but just be yourself,
not a stumbling doof"
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 10:43 AM UTC
sometimes you sit next to me,
and golly, gee, good gosh - i get all old fashioned,
and squirmy and quiet and corny,
you'll have to forgive me, it's just that oh man,
your big book on computers and your orchestra t-shirt
and how your hair's all ruffled and curly - these things thrill me
and how you're always so **** collected and relaxed and not drowsy
not even at nine in the morning when i forgot coffee and look like tim burton designed me
you make me want to look good - i've taken to staring at my wardrobe
waiting for nice summer clothes to appear out of nowhere,
waiting for a genie to make me a prince, to throw a parade where i'm the
star, all eyes on me, because maybe aladdin was a fake
but it's better than what i've got.
You've even got cute teeth, how are teeth cute, that's too much, stop it -
no don't, please, ever, geez - my brain forgets to talk to my limbs and my lungs and
so i just get kind of quiet and silly, and
excuse me teacher but are you expecting me to learn like this?
but i do learn and you learn and we learn, we're so cool we say,
we know this language, we can just move to this country right now,
let's go, you and me, let's pack our bags and say who we are loud and proud,
because that's really all we know, but it's awesome, and this is awesome
and so different from that awful plan with buses and begging and stupid. ******* decisions.
this is joking at its purest, and you understand that - you're so
rational, wow, and that is something i think i've been craving for a
long
****
time.
so hey,
your seat's open -
oh.
except
except, wait -
it's not.
sometimes it's not.
sometimes some big, brutish boy who doesn't give two *****
flops into your seat, hunched over to laugh with his stupid friend in front,
and you come it, a little later than usual, and pause when you see that *******
- and that pause, oh that pause -
maybe i'm reading too much into it, like a **** up in a literature class,
but i hope not, because gosh, it'd be great if we could get coffee,
or see the new documentary at that independent place tucked away just for us,
or even go to a game and sweat away in the seats for five hours,
and maybe that pause is telling me that could happen, maybe?
I hope so.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
I’m not myself, I’m all out of sorts
I could sure use a bottle, or one good snort
I’m edgy and squirmy
Not a feeling I like
Don’t know how to shake it
I should go fly a kite
I really think I’ve lost my mind
Have you seen it?
It’s one of a kind
I’m just overtired
That’s it, I’m sure
I’ll feel better tomorrow
Reach down to my core
Good night my friends
This isn’t the end
At least that’s my hope
I’m not that crazy, I’m just a big dope
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Ever-after wishing
for magical
transformations, and
one to follow
closely by the book,
she rolls up lace sleeves,
plunging icy hands
down into pond's brown
murk, with a talent
for fetching out.
Finger-wrapped, fearing
pursed leather lips,
her slime-green captive
gives its squirmy croak:
"What would a frog
want to do with you?"
Sep 19, 2009
Sep 19, 2009 at 8:43 AM UTC
In this
Realization faze
Of this
Delicate end of madness
Momentarily
I unclench my fist
Looking down
At the nail marks in my palms
My hand transforms
Into
Giant black beetle bugs
So many bugs
All falling
To the floor
Then my arm
And then my shoulder
More and more
Squirmy bugs
Creepy crawlers
All the bugs
That make up our core
Billions of bugs
That want to start wars
Lots of Bugs...
Oct 19, 2016
Oct 19, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
When the air is thick and soggy
And sticks to the roof of your mouth
Sweaty and salty like muggy peanut-butter
You feel squished and squirmy
The ground ******* up your ankles
And with each step the mad-mans's chains reflect a dark and silent future
Where your hair sticks to your forehead like a psalm
What could have shaped up
to form something this sharp and quick
that can be lovingly::: mutilated?
Remember when you would dive into the pain that plagued you and come out gasping, with a huge smile stretched out on your skin
feeling more alive than you did on your deathbed.
Sep 25, 2011
Sep 25, 2011 at 3:40 PM UTC
The little children stand squished together
in a tight enclosed space
Straight
uniform
But...
squirmy
Unable to be completely still
A solid phase
Then, they start to squirm some more
as their boredom takes over
wriggle
shake
some start coming off
the tightly knit shape
More and more
lose
and open spaces
Until its a shapeless mass of kids
Each with ample space
Liquid phase
Then they get tired of standing around
Some start playing tag
Running about
leaving
wandering
Dispersed
Until finally,
...
The once tightly knit
figure
is simply
a few random kids
zooming around
here and there
Gas phase
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC
**** it.
**** me,
To say you're sorry.
To make me glad
After an argument that's made me mad.
Hold my hips
And pull my hair,
Stick your hand in my underwear.
Mouth on mouth
Muffled moans
Hand on mouth
And squirmy toes.
Forget the flowers,
I want a kiss.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 4:48 PM UTC
Today, from class I was walking
On the phone with my boyfriend,
I was talking,
When between my feet I felt
A squishy, squirmy wormy,
Who's brain,
I mushed, stomped,
Smashed and smushed,
amidst the evening rain.
I cried out "why!?"
For his little brown eye,
Stared deep into my soul.
It looked so sad,
Because it was a dad,
To other squirmy wormys
I couldn't see.
As I was walking,
Still on the phone, talking
To my boyfriend,
who could not see,
The death of the wormy,
No longer so squirmy,
And I considered
What is life to be.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 2:52 PM UTC
why it gets more solemn around ten at night
the busy people are not around, how
so many different reasons and sights
get roiled around turned over upside now
turned over and studied like squirmy things
by a botanist in a lab or in
my brain dissected like a lab rat prone
flat on my back my tail taut my ears
droop, right then, take a specimen and find
to find it all is how the time is then
too early or late or impossible
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 11:52 PM UTC
It begins as a tingling in my legs,
unpleasant like something squirmy trying to get out, something huger than my skin, wriggling, bursting to get free.
Without ceremony it spreads, bulging in my chest, prickles poking through my shoulder blades. Suppressing only makes it worse, I need to run, to fly, to breathe-
"What's wrong?" you ask.
I cannot answer, it is taking all my
willpower not to scream, or punch an
innocent bystander. Would I? Whether I would or not I've never found out,
I just leave.
"I love you," you say. I still cannot reply, the tears have been melting my face, but now they trickle down shiny scales.
External sensations have become
insensible, overpowered by the
overwhelming rage of barely managed fire within. The sharpness of my teeth meets an unfeeling leathery lip.
I go downstairs and leave the building. I don’t know if I remembered my keys.
I run
just as reptilian wings free themselves from my back, they flutter, stretch out wide at last.
I'm free,
but I still want this thing inside me, this thing that now is me, to leave. I am ashamed of it, afraid of its newness and my inability to control it.
It's happier now--
in the open air where it can thrash about without restraint. I let it, no longer worried it will lash out at something or someone breakable.
We fly far and long, my arms and lungs ache, but still the fire burns in my whole body waiting to be unleashed.
We soar, sore and angry until suddenly I'm alone again.
I look down but I don't need to look to know the scales are gone. My lip feels soft again beneath my rounded teeth. The wings still flap but gentler now, quietly bringing me back to the ground then softly folding and
painlessly absorbing back into my
shoulders.
I head home.
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 6:32 PM UTC
Dig down deep where the squirmy worms go.
Feel the decay of ancient sunlight within forgotten leaves.
Smell the dark, rich soil aching with fertility.
Plunge the seed within and wait.
It will grow.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
For some odd reason I am atuned to rain.
I might be sleeping, working, in a windowless room,
But some how I just know when it's about to rain,
I can smell it in the air, the dampness,
The aroma of moisture building up in the clouds,
Mounting up to one big expenditure as rain,
I can sense it. The rain is tangeble, yes, but to me,
The smell just before is tangable as well.
I smell worms on the sidewalks, squirmy and slimy,
I smell the mossy trees and the wet ferns,
Just before the first drops splash down upon them.
I get a whiff of the preluding aroma and it's entrancing.
The smells bring images of rain and storms, and with it,
A sense of happiness and calmness.
Rain washes away the filth and the grime,
It allows the Earth to be reborn again.
That whiff is all it takes,
To bring a smile to my face.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
"I love you" carved
on old Styrofoam
with a stick,
gotta go play
a hug and a kiss
really quick
a finger turkey
of multi-colors
tail feathers fanned
a drawing
precisely chosen
carefully planned
a greeting card
with packet of seeds
tucked inside
a slippery green frog
clutched, squirmy
bug-eyed
a smooth little rock
dug out with such care
still coated with dirt
dandelion bouquet
stems too short for a jar
hidden within your shirt
a seashell washed
ashore at the beach
same as many others
these are the gifts
given with love
to smiling,
fortunate mothers
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
squirmy showers, stinky flowers
a runny nose in the midday heat
all the curses that I could cast
are salted candies on my lips
spit them out and start anew
with a happy pill free of residue
not another tear shall be shed for you
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
My civility and patience
is a burden that
hangs tightly
around my neck,
a constricting cord
that chokes me
till I am raw
with reserved rage.
Tiny tuffs
of black smoke and flames
burn me
from the inside out.
Till the pain of the world
drowns me
in a salty sea
of grief.
While others thrive off greed
profiting from pain and destruction,
I wait for some
sort of civil revolution,
or karmic retribution
that never strikes back;
Biting my tongue
till the red squirmy thing
just jumps right
out of me
and I cannot speak.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 10:07 AM UTC