There is a worm in the toilet
it wiggles with glee
surrounded by an ocean
the land mass stinks
a floating island of rot
is a refuge for this creature
I am cold. He is warm
and cozy. My leg hairs bristle
to the sound of waves
crashing against the bulwark
failing, eroding
the worm is corroding.
My life is a worm.
I wiggle in stench gleefully
willfully in my freedom's bondage
Bondage - a funny word
to choke on - eat the dung
instead, but do so with care.
I am a thousand worms
lost on a brown island
spiraling down to a river
'Row Row Row your boat
gently down the stream'
the children sing to my angst.
I don't know what to say, Mark. Never read a poem like this - this is a first! AND, why did I HAVE to read it when I saw it 'floating' by? Ya got style of your very own, my friend. I'll have to read more, keep writing. A 10 for creativeness! Best Wishes, Marilyn
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It is good to see you have posted it. I am not really sure how I am suppose to respond to this so I chose to laugh. Very good.