Quotes about squirm, page 3
Grin and Bear It
Like a mantra she repeats,
"I love my kids, I love my kids…"
Never doubting her heart,
Only a reminder.
High dreams trampled by sweet little feet,
Cause her to squirm in happy life.
A hot desire to turn back time...
Dial things back.
Babies? Of course, the same as they are now.
A different time, perhaps.
But, this is the real world,
Or so she is told,
So she grins and bears it.
Maybe again in another year.
poem by Rachel Stapleton
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Fish Story
A rainbow trout, who had
a big snout.With sparkling
spots all over his side.
While swimming fast, off
in a flash.He headed for
the swimming pool.Takin'
a dip, we'll have a sweet trip.
No cod, no bass, no check
to cash.A lake, a pond, or
even a stream.A place
where all us fish can screem.
A fishing pole, without a worm.
Now it's time to make you squirm..
Fish Story By kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2005,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Fish Bait
Check me out as I’m dangling from the string of life.
I’m still young and of course I’ve got it all figured out.
We all want a lover, but we don’t want the wife.
We are all swimming after things to catch.
Not knowing who we are or what we are doing.
We are simply like dogs playing robotic fetch.
Can you see through these murky waters, do you know your fate?
Because I’m blind as I helplessly wiggle and squirm.
For I’m no fish, only fish bait.
poem by Midnight Writer
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Dangerous Sport
Danger has a twist so large, that you squirm
From it, doing justice harder the next day.
Your queue is again in town when you wait,
Waiting is a game of sportsmanship.
The sport too long carries new weight,
Like the opening of a wand, or some pole
That magically disappears for the good,
The sport of laughter has come upon us.
Dangerous men do not leave the sides,
The sides of a triangle or square,
The real shapes endanger us
And create jeopardy so huge to carry.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Search
It was otherness which bothered me:
nothing happened otherwise.
Brisk and upright
He failed penultimately.
I still hear the footfalls
of circumstances,
of retreated sounds.
The hidden fire lights up
I squirm in pain.
The canopy of false rumors
falls on dirty road.
His gangrene was evident;
still he walked with a glow,
all alone, but listening to howling
and surveying the floods of tears.
A single argument
[...] Read more
poem by Satish Verma
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That Power Is War
That power that requires us is to be a saying,
Powerful is life of an ancient time when they said their life.
It is joy too powerful when imprints are made
On the heads of blooded men and women -
People who have entertained war.
I find it profound to be the saying of history
And that is between me and you.
Join me on a quest to interrogate the Gestapo,
They who squirm on their deeds with disgust.
Sorrow has not been the historical sorrow,
But presently it is superior to other sorrows.
War is ultimately a sorry affair.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Gallows
When you were talking about purity of
Platelets
I was thinking to let the blood flow.
How easy it has become to kill now?
Is it not homecoming of the violence?
You were looking for a method to execute
yourself
and I was searching for an answer to
become free from bondage of self-contradiction.
The veins are bulging on my hands. Death
will not be happy to see me. The blood
has already frozen.
From your side and from world’s view
the ending of conscience is the right thing
But I squirm and I scream,
gallows are forever.
poem by Satish Verma
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Poor Little Bug
Poor little june bug floatin' in the pond
Poor little june bug not too fond
Of the water that he's floatin' on
For he's caught in a hydrogen bond.
Poor little moth floatin' in a lake
See 'em squirm, see 'em shake
Poor little moth floatin' in a lake
Sure could use a break
Poor little fly floatin' on by
We're watchin' 'em try to fly
Seein' 'em suffer kinda makes me cry
Put that in your stir fry
Poor little june bug floatin' in a fountain
Tryin' to swim's like climbin' a mountain
Poor little bug under a rug
Wish I could give 'em a hug.
poem by Adam Thoms
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A Chess Club
Just look at those players!
They sit and they squirm on hard, wooden chairs,
Engrossed in the secrets of sixty-four squares,
Shuffling and groaning and pulling their hairs
Till suddenly one of them loudly declares
'Checkmate! ' to his rival, and everyone stares! !
The loser stands up with a grimace of hate
(He's never been good at accepting his fate)
'You were lucky! ' he snarls, 'but don't underrate
Me! I'll beat you tomorrow, just you wait,
When the chess-club opens, don't be late,
We'll see who's the master, I'LL CRUSH YOU, mate! ! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Men And Monsters
How does passion ignite the days
Of the year, and flowers of the rain?
My offering to some is a fellowship,
Into many days of the year, that are rays.
They'd shine for you like capsized boats,
Hollering like monkeys in quicksand.
The day strongly empowers the night
With verses of young damage.
What monster sheriffs this county?
I see verses and symbols of a long time
Going into my heart as one sign.
One makes a man seem in trouble
When one observes him from faraway.
They squirm in from under the clouds,
Opening their messages so enjoyed by
The heart.
poem by Naveed Akram
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