by Rob Littler
This quick wit squirms, finding right words:
“If we are the worms, then we were here before the birds.”
But maybe being a bird is what the world wants
to say is the best thing to be,
because being a bird and being early
makes then the eating of worms, plucked from an earthly state
ingested and regurgitated into newly beaked mouths,
made into bird breast tissue—for making first flight of wee little ones.
It is always the early bird who gets it,
making the bird-of-worms.
I shall always wish to be consumed like that.
Devour me among the pages of this:
Posted on 10/31/2011
Copyright © 2020 Rob Littler
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Joe Cramer on 10/31/11 at 11:42 AM|
... well done.... welcome to Pathetic.....
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/31/11 at 02:35 PM|
Adds an interesting perspective to the cliché and euphamism. Nicely worded intro poem for the site. Welcome! :o)
|Posted by Charlie Morgan on 10/31/11 at 03:47 PM|
...rob, i really like this. [i erassed a jillion words...i think this is heavier way-more than we perceive. great work.
|Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 10/31/11 at 07:38 PM|
Howdy stranger! I like this a lot. Warm cadence.
|Posted by Alison McKenzie on 11/11/11 at 01:09 AM|
Welcome to pathetic!!!