Worms Are Icky, Sticky and Wiggly (first version)

a poem by Linda Bates Terrell, USA

By the edge of the pond on Dirt Creek Road
We stood, oh my, a worm I tired to hold
Upon the hook I imagined it'd be,
But that task was all upon me.

How? I ask my self shall this ever be?
I'm a city girl you see. On a hook by me?
I can not bare that thought-- in mind ta-do.
EU! Those worm guts, and their stinking goo.

But to catch a fish this task to master
For a supper of potatoes and bread's a disaster
So on the rook I laid the worm squiggling
I poked at it as it began squiggling

Dear Cousin, she bated her hook-- then mine.
But soon that worm slid off, my hook and line.
I had to master this some how, you see.
I even thought of jabbing it to the tree.

This wasn't going to be easy at all.
Bugs an worms-- so gross, yet dull.
But I looked at my cousin, you see,
As she looked back at me.

Somehow soon I managed to capture that worm, so right.
As cousin laid it on the ground, it was a slimy sight.
I scooted that night crawler over on a rock, jabbed,
I closed my eyes, as the gooey minds sight, I'd block.

Soon I tossed line in water, hook, worm, bobber and all.
It splashed in the water as I watch, felt my skin crawl.
It was a hot day, and we sit to chat for a while.
But visions--- of fried fish, it made us smile.

Now the thought of a fish to grab as it bit the worm
It ake me fidgit, frown and even squirm.
This city girl, well lets say, has so much to learn.
Country cousin sit on the bank, tossing line on her turn.

With a splash and a splop, then that bobber began to sink.
Joy on my face, my anticipation toppled to the brink.
This I found was just so much fun.
But as I pulled, that fish weighted a ton.

He tossed and pulled, that big old bass fish.
I was determeined he be on my supper on our dish.
I pulled and tugged, wiping off muddy water, dirt and crud.
I got it, as I planted my feet firm in the cold slick mud

Now we'd go in, supper in hand, all that ick is over now
But oh, smiles on your face, what fun-- and how!
The day soon turned to dusk that night, and on our plate
Yum, what a sight, fried golden brown, filleted up by uncle, just right.


Linda Bates Terrell
Written @ July 8, 2013



Worms Are Icky, Sticky and Wiggly (second version)
My Collection of Poems 2008 - 2012
Lightening Bugs
Worms Are Icky, Sticky and Wiggly (second version)
Poems collection of July 2013
Lightening Bugs

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