Quotes about squirm, page 4
Audience
Hello Stranger,
Which seat did you take?
My feet dawdle by the parquetry
My knees squirm in a rattle
As I inquired for vigor
Amidst the unvoiced languor
In your sincerity
And the spectral company
That moored my anticipation
And dragged me to this stage.
In row, in line
I cowered and sighed
As I pensively scanned
An emptied theater
Yet, I carried on
Reciting another poem:
"Hello Stranger,
I knew you won't be here
But I ensued anyway,
Head above water,
[...] Read more
poem by Norman Santos
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His Kiss
His kiss was like the ocean, spraying my face;
His kiss was like sugar, only getting a taste.
His kiss filled me with passion, from the inside out,
His kiss held confidence, without a doubt.
His kiss made me squirm, ever so slightly,
His kiss pulled me forwards and held me tightly.
His kiss made me wonder if anything would ever be,
His kiss opened my eyes and let me see.
His kiss was warm to the touch,
His kiss held my heart in which it clutched.
His kiss was perfection, even to this day,
His kiss unforgettable, but this I shall never say.
poem by Stacy Co.
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Rotarians
The Symbol
The speaking at the Rotary is Praise devoid of Proof
The talking at the Rotary turns mostly on the oof
But both require an Emblem; and a Wheel is just the thing
When you argue in a circle and do business in a Ring.
At a Rotarian Lunch
Broken on another wheel than Rotary
St. Catherine's body set her spirit free
Here rests the body that the soul may squirm
In all joints broken to a jointless worm.
A Declaration of Dependence
The Jeffersonian justice which
Degenerate hucksters quote
Republicans have had by right
[...] Read more
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Submergent Heir Apparent 1532
Regardless of their air apparent firm
Of grain, to grain, against the grain, cliff wall
One day must fall, must raftless [d]rift withal
Marked only by the generation worm
Whose earlybird descendant shall not squirm
In spite of stone erosion's crystal ball.
Tintagel's hour of need may heed no call
Hark to prophet-sea-gull, wheeling tern
One day may search its prey where wild waves churn,
Uninterrupted sea soars over all,
That climate change precipitated, squall
Dour squall succeeding Man's high plans, his germ.
Order bows to chaos as the deep
Submerges, legend, castle, climb and keep.
(26 December 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Breasts
My eyes, hands mouth caress each supple breast.
I have no choice, but to admit I have become obsessed.
Even when I imagine them, my breathing will increase.
My desire is that this fire will never, ever cease.
In my dreams I fondle and kiss each loving nipple firm,
As I watch my lover convulse, twist and squirm
Till senses scream as nerves become unfurled.
Passions reign as tensions drain from this tense world.
There’s nothing more beautiful than a woman’s breast.
I thank the stars above that I have been blessed
With excitement that this feminity displays.
Luscious breasts that leave me breathless all my days.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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The Silent Colours
A mad resurgence of fake locks
paralyzes the arched doors of the hidden
walls, where the roses squirm under
the false kisses of a red moon;
they came again to police the blinds.
The mother digs up the charred body of
her son without singing the praise of
drifting star, till the scars become green.
It was the name of ivory grief, you never
know, when the blue milk turns malignant.
A hairy loss of heritage from the golden
heights of slumber. My constant truth
weeps without shame. This landscape
does not belong to ashes of broken history
of man. The delirium of war on laments
has wiped away the holding lights on shores.
poem by Satish Verma
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Art of Earth
Mother of nature, pretty goddess
Blue jewel, Eden’s drop
God’s darling, devil’s thrill
Earth is all creatures home
Whether barren, whether fertile
Whether buried, whether cultivated
From dangerous mountain, to the deepest hadal
Earth is source of living
Culture’s wisdom, war’s territory
Miracle’s drama, disaster tragedy
Dance of plant, song of animal
Earth is the guardian spirit
The evolution, the selection
The mood of season, the squirm of dragon
History’s trail, future’s hope
Earth never stops to grow
[...] Read more
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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We Are The 99%
People bravely took to city streets
Determined to effect positive change
Occupying parks n’ other public places
Beginning with Wall St. stock exchange
Carrying placards, expressing discontent
They set up tents preparing for “Long term”
Non-violent “Occupiers” did shout n’ vent
Making mayors n’ officials sweat n’ squirm;
After hearing in one-voice “We’re the 99%”
Police n’ agent provocateurs’ would try
To incite the growing crowds to violence
Remaining calm the people refused comply
One flustered cop maced helpless women,
Trapped behind an orange fence
Occupation is but one finger in a leaky dike
‘Til “The 99%” go out on “General strike”
poem by Ray Lucero
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Down In The Dark
down in the dark where i live
i can feel the earth squirm squishingly around me
down in the dark where i live
there is slime on the stone floor and it's cold between my toes
in my slide, slide slide down into this place
down in the dark where i live
no one cares if there is mud on my face
down in the dark where i live
i am all alone, i like that way, it's peaceful
just me and my old bones
down in the dark where i live
there is much to eat, i hope you like slugs and snails and snakes
my spice rack is complete
i have a fire and i have a pot
and if you want to curl right up
we'll eat and snuggle by my fire
down in the dark where i live
it's safe and cozy
you are always welcome here
poem by Bonnie Cote
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Mom
She comes, a wizened, ruined thing,
Who wants no more, no less, than to
Be served and heard. She rattles off
Her trove of tales, each told a hundred
Times before, and, in the telling, tortured
Into fantasies of principle and pluck,
Of proof that, though she cowers,
Home, alone, she is, in fact, someone
Of worth. The world's learned. She
Thinks I should. I squirm in silence,
Knowing, as I have since I was young,
That nothing I have done would mean
A thing to her. She hasn't come for
Conversation. She is here to be adored,
And, as she drones, I dream of saying,
'You once raised me, Mother. Thanks.
I guess you did the best you could,
But, now, I find you awful and I wish
That you were gone.'
poem by Lawrence Beck
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