"wriggled" poems
i had a thought.
i ran out of my room,
down the hallway,
and into the bathroom.
i wriggled out of my worn down, tie dye shirt.
hopping up and down as i pull off my
high-waisted jeans, pulling my pant leg with my foot as i
trample the dark denim to the ground.
i stand there naked, in front of the
harsh, full length mirror.
combing my fingers through my natural, wavy hair.
i contort my face in disgust, cocking
my head slightly to the side.
i close my eyes, and take one deep breath in.
when i open my eyes,
the reflection staring back at me is a thin, natural
beauty.
Her smooth ivory skin glows in the
silvery reflective glass.
Her stomach is flat and toned.
Her ******* lay on Her chest in perfect
proportion to the rest of her petite frame.
i run my fingers down the sides of my body.
my palms trailing along, dipping and
rising with the mounds beneath my skin.
i close my eyes and open them again,
this time taking my reflection for
what it really is.
i am fat.
my skin is pink and spotted with freckles the
colour of blood.
my stomach hangs low, covering the part
a man should see when i'm naked.
my ******* are big.
but not in the way you'd like them to be.
they lay there, sort of lop-sided.
hanging just above my ribs. Another place for
fat to take over.
the cuts on my thighs are hardly noticable
next to
all
that
fat
i can see tears in the eyes of the reflection staring back at me,
but i am numb.
i thought correctly. i am
fat. i am ugly.
Nobody in their right mind would want to
love me.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 6:18 PM UTC
the poem her belly marched through me as
one army. From her nostrils to her feet
she smelled of silence. The inspired cleat
of her glad leg pulled into a sole mass
my separate lusts
her hair was like a gas
evil to feel. Unwieldy….
the bloodbeat
in her fierce laziness tried to repeat
a trick of syncopation Europe has
—. One day i felt a mountain touch me where
I stood (maybe nine miles off). It was spring
sun-stirring. sweetly to the mangling air
muchness of buds mattered. a valley spilled
its tickling river in my eyes,
the killed
world wriggled like a twitched string.
7.3k
I draw her close to my chest
With her ****** pointing out from her underwear like an arrow
Slowly removing her underwear arm by arm and kissing the smooth shoulder
As I pull the two arms of her underwear the underwear fell out of her body slowly
I can see her pointed ****** calling me for a ****
Picked up an ice-cream, rubbing it gently and slowly all over her smooth soft and attractive ebony skin
From her face to her toes(all over her body)
All her body is covered with ice-cream
And she screamed baby is cold and warm
Slowly I started giving her a tongue bath
From her fore-head to her cheek to her nose to her lips
Paused a little as I deep my tongue into her two attractive lips and hers into mine
We exchange tongues for minutes
Down to her neck, wiping all the ice-cream with my lips gently and slowly
As she started to scold
Down to her chest l **** up the cream on her chest
Holding her pointed breast as I kiss and **** her ****** slowly
She scream softly and faintly "aahh hmmm that's it baby she said"
down to her **** tommy
With my tongue going angle at a point on her stomach
I Started again from her toes **** all her ten toes one after each other slowly
To her knees
She started shaking as I approach her **** ice-creamed laps
The volume of her screams increase slowly as am kissing her laps and going upward to her tight ice-creamed *****
Her legs shakes heavily and her body started shaking
She shuddered softly as my tongue rolled over her ****
she started to scold, but moaned softly as my tongue pressed at her **** harder
she lifted her head up looking at me as I shake my head side by side with my tongue holding the **** harder
She dropped her head as she murmured "hmmmm" faintly
She started to push me away gently not that she don't want more but because is over-sensitive
I grabbed her back
While I continue to **** her deeply into her ***** slowly and gently
As she raise her head again holding my head toward her *****
Pressing my head harder towards her ***** as my tongue was deep into her ***** and my thumb press her **** and shaking it side by side
Please," she whined breathlessly to me.
"Please. Faster." I withdrew my tongue and gently took her ****
in my teeth and wriggled it back and forth quickly. Her legs
jumped and she cried out, pushing with her arms again. I
grabbed her hips and pull closer
"Oh... Aaaaaah ... I'm so close," she whined. I circled her ****
with my nose and pressed my tongue back inside her, flicking it
in and out quickly to the sound of her gasps.
"Just... Ah... Almost..." She gasped when it hit her, and her body
quickly shuddered,
She slowly dropped her head as she removed her hand on my head
So I licked at the inside of her thigh, where the *** had sound
up, and continued to clean her up with my tongue
everything tensing and relaxing for several
moments before she relaxed back into the floor,
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
In the world of lines and curves,
I was questioned at the doorstep,
"Are you a line or a curve?",
I decided I was a curve, and they let me in in the group of curves.
Somebody asked, "Why is your curve not curvier? You must go to the lines instead."
I said, "Fair enough", and moved over to the group of lines.
Somebody said again, "You are too crooked to be a line. Go away!"
Disappointed, I realized I had nowhere to go.
There was no group for me. I was a curvy, crooked line.
I was a ******
Then,
Along came a curve, and a line,
They were curious of what it would mean to push their boundaries.
So I asked them to hold hands.
And suddenly I realized I was not alone.
I held their hands too, and we were transformed,
We wriggled and jiggled, and broke our molds,
And formed a perfect circle.
From our imperfections.
Now I belonged somewhere.
And I am not a ****** anymore.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:46 PM UTC
The squirrels played havoc around the house,
picking stuffing from the porch swing,
packing it into their cheeks, until they were swollen,
pregnant, to fluff their nests with synthetic cotton.
They bounded about the yard stopping to squeeze
fallen walnuts, like supermarket melons, to see
if they were ripe or rotten. Their neighbors,
the gopher and raccoon and rabbit
were overrun by the squirrels myriad brood.
Some (squirrels) sought refuge in refuse, chewing large
holes in the trash bins. This would feed many a raccoon’s
hungry mouth, but none of them would show thanks.
When the numbers began to spill over from the trees,
the squirrels began occupying the gutters, causing sheets
of ice to cataract, frozen down the sides of the house,
and then when the old man found stuffing from his swing
in the attic, enough had become enough. Something
had to be done. This blatant malfeasance must
be dealt with, and so he would devise a plan, a trap.
The old man stood watching the plump little devils
bounce and leap around his yard, when he saw the bin.
And wriggling the fingers on his upturned paw, a sinister
plan curled onto his face in a dark smile. He went out
to the trash bin and filled it with water, only halfway,
no more. He dropped a lightly pumped, bald
basketball into the bin, and smiled when the first
squirrel drowned in it. Everyday, the old man wriggled
his fingers and smiled his dark smile,
until he found synthetic swing stuffing
in his bed, and realized he had lost.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
He looked in all His wisdom from the throne
Down on that humble boy who kept the sheep,
And sent a dove; the dove returned alone:
Youth liked the music, but soon fell asleep.
But He had planned such future for the youth:
Surely, His duty now was to compel.
For later he would come to love the truth,
And own his gratitude. His eagle fell.
It did not work. His conversation bored
The boy who yawned and whistled and made faces,
And wriggled free from fatherly embraces;
But with the eagle he was always willing
To go where it suggested, and adored
And learnt from it so many ways of killing.
2.7k
Success ***** as they say,
hellishly. She's a rich little
seductress who's certainly sensational
at blowing a man's brains out.
I know. She had her teeth into me.
I can smile now, but for a while
I couldn't get enough. She was hot stuff,
that ***** goddess, success.
I was a real sucker for her charms
when she came greasing up.
I really got into the groove
when she pulled me off to the gravy train
where we gobbled down every drop.
I tell you, I couldn't stop.
What a succulent princess she is,
that ***** goddess, success.
But after it had all blown over
and she was hanging out with other guys,
I had a few days when my eyes weren't glazed.
Maybe she was a bit of a ***** actually,
always hustling for more.
Attractive to woo, but really, she *******
them, always pushing to score,
that ***** goddess, success.
I met her again the other day,
and she ran her tongue over her lips. Jeez.
I nearly went weak at the knees.
But we're only old friends now,
and I'm over her disease. So I wasn't desperate to please
her. She's such a terrible tease. She wriggled her assets
but I didn't ask her to come again,
that ***** goddess, success.
Mike T Minehan
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 12:56 AM UTC
Mouse’s are a famous breed,
From lines of kings they come.
They have a mousey song, and a mousey creed;
They love mousey cheese, and mousey ***
Mouse’s love spirits, wine, beer, and ale;
They love to chew on cheesy things.
And when they’re drunk, they will regale,
Spouting stories of mousy kings.
In mousey castle, in mousey town,
Lived a mighty mousey king.
And his mousy eyes, looked up and down,
On every big, and little thing.
But his mighty mousy features,
Were struck by mousy mope.
For all his fellow creatures,
Were bereft of *** and hope.
“No *** No rum!” They cried,
To the king as he passed by.
They wept, and sobbed, and sighed;
“Oh my, oh my, oh my”.
In the kingdom of the mouse,
There can be no greater woe,
Than to find no *** in house;
It lays the mouse’s low.
“No *** can be got”!
Stated the advisor to the king.
“We’ve all got up, and drunk the lot;
'Tis a sad and sorry thing”.
All the mousy heads,
Hung low in grim defeat.
They played with mousy threads,
With mousy hands, and mousy feet.
But the king of mouse’s rose
Standing tall upon his mitts.
Wriggled in his mousy hose,
And strained his mousy wits.
“Who can build new ***
Asked the mighty mousey king.
But all the mouse’s were dumb,
On this mighty mousey thing.
Then from out the bleachers;
Stumbled little Georgey mouse.
A smirk bestruck his features,
He was happy; he was ******
With mousy hands he gript
A bottle tall and fine
And from its neck he sipped;
A liquor; so divine.
“I shound it through zzat wall”,
Announced little Georgey mouse
“Theresh enough for one and all;
Enough to build a housh”.
He sipped the liquor fair,
And shouted, “What a corker”!
He flashed the bottle in the air;
Black label Johnny Walker.
And all the mousey squeaks,
Wrung cheer from misery.
And the cheers went on for weeks;
“Whiskey! Whiskey! Whiskey!
Jun 8, 2010
Jun 8, 2010 at 8:19 PM UTC
I could have come Goose stepping through that door on eggshells
With an anchor in the old ways, and the wind of change in my sails.
the crux is; decide what you want foul demon,
I can shield you from the fire or burn bright to show you the way,
but I will never burn out and I will never blow away.
So go snare some other paradox boxer
or lay in the brier patch of tangle choice
you once forced into my sides.
I do not permit you to handcuff your heart to my wrists,
and the baggage? Can stay at indoors.
The persistent demand of my presence pushes me into the love affair with the lies I tell myself that make you bearable.
I make no apologies for my vacant smile,
you bought my body not my soul.
And the clocks and deadlines made me to fix a do not disturb sign on my mind.
With the ultimatums delivered to me ear-trumpeting the feelings that already echo in my diminishing proud walk,
The spine slump didn't take long to take hold.
These are not poses.
This is who I am,
or at least who I used to be,
Or at least who I should have been,
But for the game of Chinese whispers Played with champions of the rumour mill and the ghosts they've created.
Removed from the hiding places are the scars and the tumours, I've been curing them in the sun.
If you came to me looking for a hero stance and a place to live at the foot of a mountain called meekness, then I will let you down.
I was bowled over by the crud slides long ago,
And now like all great insects,
I've wriggled free of the muck,
Striving out from under
more like Frankenstein's Monster
thriving in the thunder.
And making an exit,
whether you like it or not.
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
Whilst strolling in the countryside
I had time to dwell
On deeply profound questions
Like: Do badger farts have a smell?
I pondered as I wandered
On this important thought
And then I found a badger sett
And so I thought I ought
To settle this complex question
That had bothered me all day
I stuck my silly head down there
Boy was I was made to pay
For when a badger thinks he’s trapped
He lets go a tremendous fart
The stench was green and nauseous
And **** near stopped my heart
Trying to withdraw in haste
I ran out of luck
For no matter how I wriggled
My head was firmly stuck
A passer by chanced on me
But he was not a friend
He stole my shoes and trousers
Exposing my rear end
The farmer who dug me out
Laughed until he cried
I had to walk home bare of arse
Whilst covering my pride
So now I've learned a lesson
With experiments to be frugal
I’ll wait until I get back home
And look it up on Google
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC
little feet dashing across the playground with light-up shoes and arms raised and poised to hold our weaponry. swift movements mark the territory with memories of traipsing through our makeshift castles. when we’re children we gallantly save princesses with long tresses who cry from the tops of towers, fearing uproarious dragons and the darkness of the sky. we protect the princesses from terror, and some of us grow up to become them and learn to protect ourselves. the tall dragons shed their prismatic scales and flinch as they feel the girth of our swords. after much opposition, we face our fears and instantaneously make the final strike and become victorious. we turn and look through the binoculars of our hands and spot nimble thieves stealing the shimmering scales in exchange for their own greed. they climb medieval walls and we try to catch them. impulse clutters our line of vision and we go because there is no time to waste, we don’t want to lose them. sometimes they return the stolen treasure and sometimes its a lost cause. we learn the latter later, through long sighs at lonely 2 ams after seemingly infinite words have spilled out on paper and out loud out to those who can’t come back and those who can but won’t. but the former fleshes itself out when we experience moments of kismet. these days where we share conversations with people who satiate the hollow corners of our hearts and walk outside and breathe in the petrichor just as the sun has wriggled its way into the sky. we learn life is as vivid as any story we become momentarily enchanted by. people come and go as fast as the pages that inspired our childhood adventures turn, and everything happens at once. we face demons as beastly as our dragons but we have our warpaint on no matter how hastily drawn it is, and we convince ourselves of our strength until it’s real to us.
we were the heroes of the story then, light-up shoes running across the playground, and we are the heroes of the story now, playing and living in the light-up world.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:01 PM UTC
Knowledge
Has called to my curiosity
Beckoned my interest
Summoned my attention
I have learned too much
Far too soon
Knowledge
Has found its clutch on my mind
Has wriggled into my conscious
Has weighed down my thoughts with guilt
I have learned too much
Far too soon
Knowledge
Has infested my thoughts
Has rotted my mind
Has eaten my innocence alive
I have learned too much
Far too soon
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 8:36 AM UTC
There once was a world
that stood on it's head
and wriggled and jiggled
and shook out the dead
and shook off the living
and all of their stuff
'til nothing was left
in it's pockets but fluff,
'til nothing was left
but a world upsidedown
that shakes in the wind
as it's spinning around
like a ragged old lady
with thin and threadbare
clothing she's no
longer willing to share..
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
I used to need a submarine
to visit the dark depths of my soul
To where the bottom feeders feast
on the dead and feces from the shoal
A completely inhospitable, light-less,
savage, alien underworld
Where the spineless slimy sea cucumber
writhed, wriggled and curled.
Now I prefer to scuba dive my soul
or gaily use snorkel and flippers
Among a rich vivid abundance of life
Up and down the aqua big dippers
But I admit every now and then
at certain dark times of the year
I swim above that unforgiving trench
and can not hold back the tears
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 4:39 AM UTC
A solitary tree exists in the centre of a barley wheat field
No one sits for miles
So no one cares how he feels
He grew from a seed till he stood tall and strong
But no seed grew beside him
He was all alone
Seasons would pass and crops would be sewn
Leaves would be shed and again they'd be grown
A lowly old oak tree he began to become
Then one day something happened under the surface
A seed started rooting before it had sprout
The ground opened up and the sprout shooted out
Now the oak he had company above the soil
But the sprout she was struggling through times of toil
She was straining hard to get sun and water
The oak soaked it up before it could fall to her
But down below, underground, something stirred
The roots of the oak began to move like a worm
They wriggled and writhed through the soil to the top
Where, as if though by nature an innate ability had been drawn
The roots of the oak tried to keep the sprouts roots warm
Just like a parent would for its child
The oak shared nutrients with the rest of the field
So; the water he drank would be evenly shared,
The sun he soaked up its warmth would be spread
The sprout it was grateful and soon, it did grow
And beneath the big oak, some care it did show
For when the oaks branches began to bend
They were given support from the branch of a friend
The roots underneath entwined and linked
But to the naked eye you'd have to think
Was the oak still alone?
Did he feel pushed aside?
Would this small tree last?
Or would it just die?
But look you, to this field of barley wheat today
An there sits two trees
Together, I'd say
For the oak had, some company
The little tree, had a friend
And the roots of these two, were linked
End to end
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
When the pale Luna, goddess of the night,
Her silver blanket did upon the pond cast,
While gliding along the inky sky,
Near to the milky stretch-mark of stars
(Sign that the Universe is our mother)...
The air was thick with the violin symphony of crickets.
Beneath the knotted hair of a willow tree
A campfire, asked to dance by the breeze,
With sheer joy crackled and sparkled
At the sight of the petal-faced imps.
In a foolish manner, one prodded the other:
"Go you and kiss a frog on the nodding!"
Wanting to impress his comrade,
He sprung up like a grasshopper off the ground,
And like a fox pup disguised himself in the reeds.
There, his torch revealed two sinister gleams,
A low CROAK and RIBBIT RIBBIT came with them.
The boy jumped and caught the wet ball of slime,
It protested in his cherub hands and wriggled in vain.
He moved his puckers closer to the little being,
Nature is the one who likes a good teasing,
He kissed it on head,
Then froze with dread,
The frog was a toad and the taste was displeasing.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
Once upon a thyme
In an herbed house
Their lived a witch
Whose ripe rampion
Was so overpowering
That the neighbors
Left bottles of febreeze
On her doorstep.
The witch didn’t care
- But
In the flat-ironed town
Of Lunch time lipo
Where you were defined
By your eating disorder
She looked like
An Omish escapee
*With hips that wriggled
And ******* that jiggled*
So her cell phone number
Wasn’t in anyone’s top five
-Except
For one confused neighbor
Who never made it to college
And got to experiment
Like a true Gemini.
Now imagine the witch’s surprise
When this neighbor confides
That she would love to eat
Her ripe rampion.
- Naturally
The witch agreed.
It was nice to have something
That somebody else wanted
Though it was exhausting
For the neighbor
Who munched day and night.
And if one surprise
Wasn’t enough
The witch discovered that her
Neighbor was pregnant.
Now the witch had many powers
But that wasn’t one of them.
It appeared that her neighbor
Found her husbands
Carrot patch to
Quite esculent also.
And the witch
Being a picky Virgo
With a jealous Scorpion moon
Thought that her neighbor
Should not
Have spun around the vegetable
Color wheel quite so fast
And so in a fit of temper
She stole her baby
And locked her away
In an ivory tower.
Initially everything worked out
Until the oil crisis
And then the witch couldn’t
Visit Rapunzel quite as often
As she would have liked
Not with gasoline
Being so expensive
And so Rapunzel became bored
And started chatting to
Prince charming
On her face-book wall.
The witch took all the hopeful Trojans
That the prince had left
On previous visits
And tied them together
To form a rubbery step ladder
And when she heard him shout
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel…let down your hair!"
She threw this at him…angling it
With just a little thread of hate.
Prince charming grew all shivery
And put on his worst
Austin powers "Oh behave" accent
*Thinking of the delights
That awaited him*
However, his shivery-ness
Soon became a full body tremor
When the witch met him
On the top rung
And he knew quick enough
This wasn’t a
Ménage à trois.
The prince spent many months
In traction
Recuperating from his fall.
Rapunzel was sent off
To boarding school.
And as for the witch…
She dropped twenty pounds
And got her own reality show
Housewives of Salem county.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
Recollections on Chaliyar.
In youthfulness was Chaliyar.
As I saw her next , from afar
Amidst the greenery was, she
Dancing in pleated clothes.
In spotlight of the setting sun
In tune the Air that hummed
On rail the wheels trumpeted
Gallery across the river I stood
Watching her”jahiliat” life moves
Lured all by giggle and smile
Ripples, eddies her beauty spots
She was mine I was hers!
Oh! My Chaliyar, recall, whence
We started and parted;
Made our veins venomous.
By-gone are by-gone-
God loves and pardons ;
He is with them that pardons
God won’t hear our prayer
If we keep deaf ear to prayer.
Unrelenting oars push a yacht.
The fume of trade shrouded me
With the smoke of train chocked
Down in water I plunged, yelled
Help, Help Oh! helpless yelp.
THE TIME rippled, wriggled
Coiled around while none
But Allah held me around.
On a delta I lay bare; hence
I write on rights we need.
……….
Note : Chaliyar is a river in northern Kerala, India, once most polluted.
“Jahiliat’ is an Arabic word means uncultured/impure period in life.
Allah is the name to denote the Almighty Creator that all religions expected to worship.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
another week
another doctor
It could be nothing
It could be everything
You could have a test
You could stop it now
But in grey ultrasound
We gazed at your face
A wriggled shift
To a comfier place
There's no going back
No not now
Your a child of us both
And we'll love you somehow
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 9:48 PM UTC
In theory, we're demoralized,
In practice, neutralized,
But with force we analyze
What happens around us.
Sanctimonious ********
Pulling our plastered limbs
To an ever lasting fight,
Against forces of evil? Where are we?!
Black veils on their faces
Dark tears in the traces
Marked by the graves that are left behind.
Apathetic pathetic pythons biting the bits and piecing the peace that pits you against your brother.
Pompous posers pushing pampered ideas into our polluted brains.
Anti-idealistic contenders competing for riches and a nice comfy throne.
Plausible pseudo-righteous imposers asking for an applause for all the ill-witted words they shed.
Rectify the wrong wriggled reason riddling wibble fed to feeble citizens.
We sit here waiting for divine intervention,
Well divinity's gone! Not to mention the tension,
All these factors and factions, the fact is we're dying, and they're not helping.
Something drives them, something we don't understand, but who has the guts to ask them what it is?
Our blood has become the dividend divided among the not-so-united lands that fall under a geographical, categorized country of hell.
In this hell we live in, we've become minions of liberal less-than-mediocre minds ironically not minding their own business, feeding off of ours.
Intertwined, undermined, understand the outer line, see the truth, feel the crime, freedom's yours. Freedom's mine.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 7:08 AM UTC
She slip slid into my reach
My heart double-timed to right itself
Loose grips and tight fits
She touched me along the wrong side
Brushed me down and wriggled those hips
Breath stuttered as my ears she kissed
The peaks of sighs and quick hitch
She gave me a taste with a little nip
My lip bruised and my stomach clenched
She slip slid against my heart
A piece of life glossed and smooth
She gripped my soul without a thought
A crush of skin against my body
Before she slip slid right out of my reach
cc2010
Dec 6, 2010
Dec 6, 2010 at 5:02 PM UTC
She squirmed and wriggled in absolute anticipation, just loving it, eagerly ready for what would come, love making in the most special and intimate way. Slowly Nigel moved his fingers up and down Stacy’s pussyanthamicatrical, enjoying the tightness of the plastic
though she was moist in her nose. The material of her ******* was soaked by dryness, science reversal. Part of her skirt would be but that didn’t matter. Soon she would be naked, not needing any
second skin to hide her beauty; that was left to her third. They had no secrets or inhibitions. Except skin.
Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 10:22 PM UTC
Wriggled and wrapped in our safety suits
The Man tells us the sea is ten degrees
The Man wants his cargo to be safe
The Man wants us to come back
Single file managed carefully
A Man directs us to the tarmac
The big, birds, blades, beat
Secured, we hover lightly
Quick check, Straight up
Tiny farms with tiny fields
Checker an industrious quilt
Stone is torn from a quarry
For homes of busy people
A road rests on the countryside
A ribbon on a patchwork blanket
Houses embroider the hills
Where families pay their bills
Crawling along paved threads
Creatures scurry passed a hospital
With more important things ahead
First day back to school
Rush hour, late for work
We soar above the little land
And hold the blanket in our hand
The mansions acres sheared and preened
Sit pretty next to factory steam
From here the mansions just as small
From here the graveyard’s twice as tall
Hugging coast we close our eyes
The stuffing from the covered skies
Descends around our whirly bird
And only flutter can be heard
And from the window only sea
Until we reach our island, sleep.
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 1:11 AM UTC
The frog glanced down at himself
and compared himself to the toad
But the toad was distracted, who
was desperately trying to cross the road.
"Don't do that in a hurry toadie, old man
You will soon be as flat as a pancake!"
Bang, smash and whollop, true to the word
he had made the fatal mistake.
The frog peeled him off the road
and flung him by the wayside.
The frog thought the situation funny
and couldn't keep a straight face if he tried.
"Charming" thought the ghost of the toad
"He will get a scare alright I'll see to that"
The toad ghost waited for the moment
and took on the form of a rat.
The giant rat alias the toad stood in front of the frog
He wriggled his tongue out in a rude way
The frog thought the rats are strange around here
and moved aside as he had nothing to say.
The frog decided to have some lunch, a nice idea
he laid out the cloth on which to dine
The rat grabbed all the nosh and said
"I think you will find all of this is mine".
"I dont see how you think that it is" said the frog.
"What in Heavens name as it got to do with you"
"Well if you had stood out of the way of traffic
while I was crossing the road, I'd have had a better view."
I would have noticed the large lorry hurtling towards me
I would have still been here to tell the tale
I'd have felt the wind, not been a ghost and my
hole would not be up for sale.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC