"wiggles" poems
the bed is not very big
a sufficient pillow shoveling
her small manure-shaped head
one sheet on which distinctly wags
at times the weary twig
of a neckless ******
(very occasionally budding
a flabby algebraic odour
jigs
et tout en face
always wiggles the perfectly dead
finger of thitherhithering gas.
clothed with a luminous fur
poilu
a Jesus sags
in frolicsome wooden agony).
25.4k
I crack an egg over the pan,
And drizzle it with salt
The oil seethe with anger,
As the sides of the egg turns brown
I push a spatula between the egg and the pan,
Then I slowly lift it and transfer it to a plate
The yolk wiggles in a funny motion
A whiff reaches my nose and it lingers for a while
The last one joins the other plates on the table.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Pugsley snugs
on ugly rugs
and smugly shrugs
at Beak
But Beaky's peaking
and tweakily tweaking
while squeakily speaking
to Pink
And Pinky thinks
they're rinky *****
with stinky sinks
and ***** winks
Then Twiggy giggles
and jiggly wiggles
her wiggly jiggles
at Mister Higgles
And Mister Hig-g-l
Wait a second
Who's Mister Higgles?
'Undercover CBPP,' says he
(Crazy Bad Poem Police)
'Okay, let's break it up!
Enough of this stupid poem
Let's go, let's break it up!
Stay off bad poems people,
this stuff'll rot your
brain!"
©2011 Lyn
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
I Love Pie & You Sweetie Pie!
I Love Pie & You Sweetie Pie
Love pumpkin pie its so good
Awe taste just like it should
Love lemon pie with a
touch of ****
Love it deep down in my
heart
I love jello pie it's
so sweet
The way it wiggles
it's so neat!
Love pie of banana cream
And chocolate is my dream
I love blueberry too
It's so good & blue
I love BlackBerry too awe
so sweet and black
Pick em right off the vines
and put em in a sack
I love apple pie topped
with cheese
Oh and make that a scoop
of val ice cream please
Oh and also the Apple Dutch
Oh how I love it so much!
Custard Boston and
Zesty Lime,
Whip Cream Humble and
Rhubarb all the time!
Quick Set Frozen Cream
Pie and Oreo Cookie Crust
Sweet Tatter and Velvet
Turtle Now that's a must!
But my favorite pie
of all is true
That's my favorite pie
"Sweetie Pie" it's you!
WrittenBy:BarbieKirk
11-24-14 5:09am
www.allpoetry.com/RainbowBlessings
© Barbie Kirk . All rights reserved, 16 hours ago
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 10:45 PM UTC
*There Was A Strange Lady with A Big ****
Who frequented the bushy path by my Hut!
I could tell from her ogles and giggles
that she knew I melted at her wiggles...
That antagonizing strange Lady with a Big ****
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 8:16 AM UTC
I lost a friend and I lost a tooth,
The tooth had to go; the friend I couldn't lose
It was a wisdom tooth, with some decay,
It was a wise friendship, its strings began to fray,
The tooth couldn't be salvaged; the friendship stood a chance,
I chose to cut loose the tooth; cutting the friendship wasn't my stance
Like my tongue wiggles, at the place the tooth would be,
So mind tumbles, at all things my friend used to be
Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 7:18 AM UTC
every so often
they threw the seal a fish
though it was only a small fish
the seal would jump for joy
he would wiggle his fins
his nose, his eyes
his space coming alive
and from his landing
he would dive into the water
with the youthfulness of a pup
diving after that little silver
like it was for the first time
his eyes wider than the moon
as he streaked across the pool
with pent up
exuberance
so graceful
and in rhythm
his back to the spectators
but not really
as his moon peeks through
the surface
back towards the smiles
the cheers, the applause
it meant the world to him
receiving
the acceptance
and acknowledgment
the likes, the love
the words from the butterflies
descending on his blooms
for
he sees and hears
feels their touches
his splashes of fate
leaving his face golden
and beholden
in the face of sorrow
he circles back to the surface
pockets of bubbles rising
like his love for the audience
that little silver
wiggles of his daily grace
now his sustenance
his nose, his eyes
his shrill coming alive
and now back at his landing
animated
and blessed
his moon shining at the spectators
and in all sincerity
he lets out an arf, arf, arf
intonations
and sublimity
dancing in the moonlight
thankyou
Logan Robertson
10/14/2018
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
I deal with fear nearly every single moment that I'm awake.
My past has left me a very fearful present.
I am also afraid and that feels very different.
To me, being afraid is the current not directly tied to my past.
Just a side effect.
***Afraid of being fragile.
Afraid of being pitied.
Afraid of being angry.
Afraid of being mean.
Afraid of failing in school.
Afraid of being abandoned.
Afraid of my husband leaving.
Afraid of losing everything because I can never grip it tight enough.***
I try to wrap my arms around Afraid
because I cannot hold it all in my hands.
But then a tremor wiggles through my hand.
And then it works its way up my arm.
My shoulder shudders.
My head twitches.
The other shoulders rolls as my other hand is paralyzed.
I am limp and worthless to contain Afraid.
Afraid tells me that I'm doing this all wrong.
That I'm not healing right.
Good enough.
Fast enough.
I am afraid of Afraid.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 12:10 PM UTC
For now
my tears drop only
when the inside of my face
fills with a holy perspiration
that collects with a musical tension
right until the ******
when the drops become too heavy
to cling to the ceiling
of my mind's eye
they fall into the grass
that wiggles my toes
and that's all I can handle
For now
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
Her *** was made for regrets,
the way it wiggles
as she walks away.
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 6:30 PM UTC
"Squeeze Please" presents as a cute word rhyme,
But its grip and depth
Is unique and sublime.
Part hug, some cuddle, but
More like a tickle...
It's fickle!!
Yet,
I sense familial love songs
When
My limbs contract to stop his wiggles-
And then,
Before he starts his giggles...
My knees squeeze...
That’s when I heard,
Without one word...
Squeeze because you love me;
Squeeze because I love you;
Squeeze because I feel protected;
Squeezing keeps we two connected.
Squeeze Please makes me feel secure.
Please squeeze... please... squeeze please me more.
Squeeze me to my happy place.
Squeezing tells me that I’m safe.
A squeeze will make me feel content
Your squeezes tend to give me strength.
Then Squeeze tight for respite and peace,
Like a weighted blanket as I sleep.
Squeeze me like a pet boa,
Squeeze because you're my own Granda.
I hear and listen when he says Squeeze Please;
That cute word rhyme really speaks to me.
(Now loosen and Squeeze Please some more.........................)
Jun 10, 2024
Jun 10, 2024 at 1:52 PM UTC
Darkness, it's so mysterious
A sign of the abyss
We can't penetrate it with our eyes
We will never no what's beneath
It can be a color called black
Which people will wear
It's for grieving and for sadness
And for protection too
They won't come near, if they fear
The emotional abyss
The one that in srounded by our
Dark outfit
It can be a hiding place
For those who always fear
With no lights they can't come near.
It gives us a place of freedom
But it frees our enemies too
We can't see them coming,
The monsters under the bed.
As they hide within
Their darkened mist
In the dark abyss.
It can be the unknown,
A shade of mystery.
We are all left in the dark
When we think of this shade.
We can't see, we can't know
Whatever lies beneath,
Is unknown to us humans
As it wiggles in the deep.
It can be evil
The sign of tainted good
The color white muddied,
By the darkened sins.
It shows us when to hide
Since the monsters come at night
It is the spookist of colors
The one that shows us death.
But it can be beauty too,
A protective guard over us.
A shroud of mystery
To keep the others guessing.
It lets us be alone
When we truly wish.
It hides us from our enemies
And keeps the small ones safe
After all when its night
And we all wish to sleep
We plunge our selves into darkness
And welcome the abyss.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
The ocean waves lap over the shore
crashing into the little girl sitting there
her arms crossed over her legs,
hands clasped
her hair in messy waves down her back
a big purple bow holding parts of it together
She sings a sweet tune
of love and beauty
The sun sets in the west
creating a soft glow of deep orange
and light pink
her blonde hair glowing like fire
in the shadow of the setting sun
Her hands dip into the water
creating a ripple in the now still water
She watches as the ripple spreads
like a fire does when oxygen is added
The stars peep out from under the sparsely placed clouds
and the moon casts a peaceful glow on the girl
illuminating a small smile
splayed out on the little girl’s face
As her hand wiggles in the cool water
a small fish starts to nibble on her finger
A laugh bubbles up from her throat
creating a sound like small bells tinkling
Just then her mother calls
she gets up
her yellow dress crinkled from sitting on it
and she walks up to the house
where her mother stands, arms outstretched
the love clear on her face
and all she knows in that moment
is that this love is all she’ll ever need.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
Bunny suit
white cuffs and collar
she's cute
you pay the extra dollar
black silk bunny ears
black stillettoes
she smiles at your jeers
always the pro
White pom pom tail
wiggles when she walks
your senses she assails
her ex-boyfriend stalks
Treat this bunny well
or in your drink she spits
she's ringing your bell
but to her your the pits
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 7:44 AM UTC
I just got home from work and driving through the sun rise after stopping at the gas station for cigarettes.
The pink lightbulb guides me up the steps to my apartment and I'm greeted by Sophie the pitbull,
she wiggles and runs happy to see me.
She's the first one into the bedroom when I open the door and as I change out of my work clothes I pet her and kiss her head, complimenting on how cute she is the whole time.
Then I light a candle, pack a bowl and go to Netflix in search of Bob Ross, The Joys of Painting.
On this episode he is painting a night scene in the forest.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 6:39 AM UTC
Eyes that flash the soul of civilization
And warm the heart in observation.
Love that whispers with a gentle touch
And surrounds with hugs that seem so much.
Cry Beloved!
Water that caresses with a thousand tongues
Sunshine that coos all the birds’ songs
Teachers and vets, pronouns and clowns
Croissants, marmalade, coffee and new lawns.
Cry Beloved!
Breezes and sneezes, walks by the shore
Seashells that capture all the sea’s roar
Powdery sand and laconic lagoons
Daydreams and naps in the afternoons
Cry Beloved!
Smiles, museums, carriages in the park
Salads with friends and chocolates too dark
Rowing among lily pads and turtles and frogs
Hiking and crossing the streams on new logs.
Cry Beloved!
Flowers and bees buzzing in the sun
Hummingbirds hovering, dogs on the run
Children running, giggles and wiggles
Caring, learning, reading and snuggles
Cry Beloved!
Snowy mountains, valleys green
Faith proclaimed, faith unseen
Wonder and ponder, awe and reverence
Invitations from God to join in the dance
Cry beloved!
Hands held together in prayer and in love
Eyes raised to heaven on the wings of a dove
Caring so deep, affection so real
Feel the love and start to heal
Cry My Beloved!
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 8:40 PM UTC
Parasitic queen dressed in gold and black,
we made love among hyacinth
tracts and the morning dew
then parted.
I’d thought it through but
venom proved stronger than
my ire as
memories of you wormed about;
your racing touch and
erasing much to finally burst
my head.
The larval feelings spun
themselves up in
little white silk
lies
And what wiggles out,
though formed and fed
off my mind and husk,
Resembles you, winged
and rue
hungry for a meal anew.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 2:02 PM UTC
Lucy
Oh sweet lucy.
You are so kind.
You always listen to me
You look at me
With your kind eyes.
So gentle.
I love you, my little puppy.
My baby.
Im sorry you have to live with my dad
But as long as we live together we will protect eachother.
I know i can count on you.
Each time i come home,
And your little tail wiggles,
It warms me
I love it when you give me hugs.
You are just the cutest thing
We get to watch each other grow up
And im proud to be your daddy
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 2:42 PM UTC
you know, the one with the guy
and that girl in the train station bar
where they just keep trying drinks
and looking at things
and making conversation
while avoiding the big issues?
It’s like that
whenever we talk.
Like, there’s something between us,
curled like an unborn fetus
******* the life
right out of the womb.
This thing that makes me want to scream out loud
for you
to pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease
just stop talking
because every time you tell me
you care
the fetus wiggles.
And every time you say
“I still want to be friends”
it latches onto some part of my gut
and begins *******
what little happiness is left in my heart
through my small intestine.
And regardless of how licorice life tastes,
and how many places we visit,
how many drinks we try or times we ****
there’s always going to be this empty place,
this space where I let you let the air in
even if I didn’t want it.
You promised this would be simple.
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 10:56 PM UTC
How cool I was with undercut
pretending then Mohawk
playing rugby pretending
brunching with fab hipsters
pretending enjoying arcane debates
about particle physics pretending
and social justice pretending
loving tall beautiful black boy
pretending and playing Tetris til dawn
or napping on the couch pretending
in fashionable Old City coworking
space pretending cuddled alone
as rain struck clear panes windowed walls
facade pretending that was my life once,
author in a zine pretending, cheese day denizen
pretending amid all that a sprawling
vacuum of identity pretending
and isolation pretending despite
lunching with a priest I met
pretending online or long, meandering
walks to the park pretending
with Mr. Wiggles and biking up
Passyunk pretending through the market
that smelled of live chickens and grease
bemoaning my loneliness pretending at
row-house holiday parties hosted
by midlife fairies & queers pretending
with dreams with drugs
pretending alcohol *** and roof deck
skyline views pretending pop up gardens
live music filling midsummer streets
pretending same streets
filled with seasonal dirt
artisanal water pretending
bottle cap eyes cigarette **** nose
garbage mouth snowman melting
away pretending going
the way of brotherly
love. How cool I was inhabiting
my urban life pretending
I was there.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 6:16 AM UTC
The old man
A broken down factory
Sagging within the crumbled graffiti of his skin
Sits and stares out the window
An anachronism
Out of place among the smooth
Modern hospital walls
The man sits in his wheel chair
The thrown of landless kings
Carrying all the memories of his years
Like a net
Hauling in the silverfish of his stories
Though many have swam away
And in his hazy recollection
He remembers the feeling of bare feet
On summer grass sprinting
The shotgun of a ball exploding
From the barrel of his bat
The hush of a spring storm
As it dresses him and some lover
All the shades of wet
Staring out the window
The old artifact
Wiggles his proud toes
Following them back to
The night clubs in Chicago
The handshake of the president
And the feathery wings of jazz
In his feeble arms he catches
The kick of a rifle
The whisper of a bullet
As it reaches out to bury itself
Into the lullaby of his bones
The dirt of war in his teeth
And the smell of burning hair
But most of all he looks back
On the empty picture frame
The days that have blurred into
Darkness and smoke
What did I do on all the days
I have forgotten
This question hangs like the last petal
Still clinging to the branches
As the winter wind grows bold
It is unfair he thinks
And looks out among
The dogwoods in full swaying dresses
That line the hospital
I am a barren husk
Of bark and bone
But this world blooms so brilliant
Lean back in his chair
The old man thinks
I am so happy I got to see
The trees laughing with the wind one last time
And smiles like a toothless sunset
His soul swallowing and swelling
On all the beauty he has ever gathered
Behind the cameras of his eyes
So full of life that he can no longer hide it inside of him
It must go dance with the blossoms
When the nurse found him
The tears had not dried off his cheek
His mouth frozen into a smile
Like a sunbeam burning through the clouds
A single dogwood flower folded in his fingers
As she looked upon the hallelujah of his death
She wondered
What secrets did you take with you
You old geezer
What was so beautiful
You smiled so hard your heart broke
When you saw the other side
Did it have dogwoods
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
It uses the seatbelt as a vesicle
Slithers across your shoulders,
prickles your chest
With every beat
It pounds into your heart,
wiggles into your veins
You're infected
But it feels so good
Your blood forgets oxygen
and caters to the pulse
flowing throughout your systems
At once, Gravity remembers it's job
angrily it sinks to your feet
pools and tenses
Wearily it exits through the sole
spiders into the floor
the music has left you
You are forever infected
And it feels so good
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 11:35 AM UTC
While I likely have no rhythm
and tend to trip over my feet
that would hold back a dance.
While I have debilitating anxiety
that highlights others’ stares
I may still give it a chance.
No, see, the reason I won’t dance
has way more to do with my body
and the fact that I’m trans.
As I move through the world
I feel the weight of my identity
in both physical and mental distress.
Of course everyone has baggage
that doesn’t stop them from jiving
but not everyone has to carry it on their chest.
Dancing requires movement of my entire frame
but the person I see in my head
isn’t the one that light reflects.
How can I move without highlighting
the feminine figure my clothes conceal?
How can I jive
while hiding how my chest wiggles?
Can they tell?
Girl?
Guy?
What do they see?
The questions anchor my body to the ground
So I cannot move.
I cannot dance.
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:48 AM UTC
__________________________________
He laughed but he cried
A clown whose real eyes was dried
A mascot who always tells a joke
But how he wished that his neck be choke
She laughed but she cried
A lady whose heart was ripped
At daytime life of her persist
But at night she wanted to cut her wrist
He laughed but he cried
A boy whose been deeply bullied
A smirking kid at home
The saddest child when he's alone
He laughed but he cried
A writer that has a lot of pride
To his readers he play and giggles
But his life is full wiggles
They laughed but they cried
They are lonely but they smiled
Written: October 3, 2014 @ 9:30 PM
Mysterious Aries
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 7:07 AM UTC
I contemplate my choices - up into the soft, pillowy dunes covered in seagrass, into the rough brush beyond, down to the slippery water rocks. I walk along it all, past the rocks pock-marked like skulls, that I place precariously on the spindly end of a gnarled, whitewashed log that I foot. I pass pieces of wood petrified in the sand like emerging snakes, spiny, drowning spiders. The sand is chalked clay, clumps creating mini Stone Henges where deer prints have broken it. In the distance are fragile lines of birds that sound like howling wolves. I look out over the water, the sea that wiggles between my toes and spans the horizon all at once. The water laps at my thoughts and in between breathes I hear my cousin calling me. I turn towards her hungover dreamless nap, but still I hear the sea, refreshing my mind and the sun cleansing and lifting me up into the very sky. My feet break the salt-cracked sand back. The path I took before breaks out and unfolds before me like a red carpet on tracing paper and I avoid every step like it would break my mother's back.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC