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Best Beetle Poems | Poetry

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The Best Beetle Poems

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She’s a world has gotten drowsy
Evolving face of autumn
Like gold    then scarlet    amber
Like blood from beetle vein

At heart her core lacks action    still
She has this sort of stadium swell
A far and muffled roar on susurrate air
Which brings her round again

Her essence lay at kindred depth
At oneness with the fertile Earth
Where roiling life all seasons sways
She bows to nature’s royal domain

Dave Austin

Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2016

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WHO IS THE GIANT OF THEM ALL Animals or humans, who is the giant of them all? Bearing a two sheathed wings, the Hercules Beetles crash the Titans (beetle) growing more than six inches. Down the dirty waterways of China is the Mekong catfish extending at ten feet, tummy-filled with one full swallow of a child... Horrible! Godzilla in Japan's sea is the Nomora Jellyfish! However, the tipped nightmare fuel incorporeal spill is not at all hazardous. Jamison Stone, an eleven year old boy, killed almost, this wild giant hog of 1051 lbs. Lizards like the giant Salamanders aren't cute at all-- measuring six feet long: the largest of their kind! Nuisance to Australia's dangerous wildlife, cane toads, originally are found in South and Central America! Power and beauty quiets all his challengers when Percheron runs, runs fast in a horse race! Savory staple is the spider Crab but warning! Their claws can do some serious damage! Under a tree, don't be shock of the flying fox: vampires to sweet-juices of fruits in New Guinea... Weighing over a ton, Trigger is the cow for truckload of macs! Xenopos are Cameroon Goliath that can live up to fifteen years. Yes, humans are tough but compared to these behemoths, zings we have are just their toys! ______________________________________________________________________ ***Source: and ***nightmare fuel - stingray; flying-fox - bat ==Sponsor Name: Broken Wings== =Contest Name: Trashed #2= ==6th place== O. E. Guillermo 2:49pm, September 04, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015

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A Hug for the Bug

Many insects creep upon this earth, and hardly anyone refers to them as “nice” or writes a poem reflecting on their worth! Spiders sometimes make me jump as if they were small mice, and how repulsed I feel to see cockroaches or lice! How many cute soft cuddly insects can we find? Worms are soft, but cuddly? I don’t think so! Which bug both cute and sweet comes to your mind? Well, Butterflies are lovely; fireflies have a nice soft glow. But the one that comes to MY mind I bet you know! She is a lady beetle, and when she lands on me, I do not flinch or swat at her or gasp out “Ugh!” People like to count her spots. A lucky one is she. Protecting crops, she is well liked by farmers. What a bug! If she were but my size, I’d give her a big hug. Written 4/16/13 for Francine Roberts' Whimsy in English Quintain Free Poetry Contest

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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Haiku 9 Life

lodgepoles pines fall 
dead, beetle attack, new life
emerges -- aspens

Copyright © David Meade | Year Posted 2014

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Lean  back and just relax
Put on these protective glasses please
Injection  -   this will not  hurt  at all
He says in fluent dentist-speak
Man with goggles and mask like an alien
Probing me like an insect aboard a UFO
                 God  I‘m starving -  no breakfast

Oh , from the x-ray   looks like 
We  need a couple of fillings  
                And It  was cornflakes and fried eggs and bacon

I’m afraid it  will cause some discomfort
But just relax 
I look at the legs of his pretty assistant for comfort
                I was afraid to  come here at all

Delayed coming
Coward for pain in dentist’s chair
Put off and put off six months,   till now  - 
April is the cruellest month*
                Month  of early cherries from Spain  
                And   lettuce from the greenhouse
                And a cucumber salad upon a table in the garden

Like a patient etherized upon a table*
As the alien probes my molars
And asks me about football on tv last night
                Oh for a melon  big as a football  right now
                Sold by the shop on the corner  where the woman 
                Is so her as she gives 
                Cucumber  to another customer

Yes  a bit of voyeurism  sometimes is fun
Dental  assistant’s  legs show nice muscles
As she reaches  up tip-toed  for a tall  
Pile of green  plastic rinse-cups
                Rather similar to a  cucumber

I try to answer the football alien
With a mouth  full of metal
I stutter and garble out a reply and the alien uh-huh s
Disinterested interest as they say
She looks into my face, concerned,  and  I am flattered
But she only sees my horrible decayed tooth
Unconcerned   concern
Now spit,    and again,    rinse,  spit
I am helpless like a beetle on its back
Wearing plastic goggles
Use this tissue
She’s so helpful,    like mother
Don’t  eat for six hours even if you have a good appetite
                Oh those melons….appetite

I am a man of appetites     
No !  I am not  Leopold  Bloom  nor  was meant to be*
My appetites are mostly for learning, for humor, for sorrow, 
But maybe a melon  tomorrow.       

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


*These lines are quotes from   T S ELIOT   and   J  JOYCE,  both masters 
 of the stream of consciousness technique.  

Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2011

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To a Firefly

You flit around the marshes and in places warm and wet.
as a beetle you’re about as bright as any bug can get!

You have a tiny flashlight built into your small tummy,
but for foes, your bio-luminescence is not yummy!

Though when a creature tastes you, they’re sure to spit you out,
There’s  something even better that your light is all about!

You’re looking for a sweetie when you flash your little glow,
and when you synchronize in groups, it’s like a disco show!

How I loved to chase you when I was just a kid,
and I’d catch you in a jar with holes poked in its lid.

That wasn’t nice of me. It must have caused you fright.
You were only lending magic to my summer night.

How I miss you, lightning bug, known as firefly.
And how I wish that I could see you in this western sky.

Even in the Midwest state that I left behind
I hear you are becoming more difficult to find.

Too many fields paved over; no places you can hide.
Too many lights from people and too much pesticide.

People use their headlights; this is confusing you.
Your blinking light gets all mixed up. You don’t know what to do.

Fewer are the places where, dear firefly, you can stay.
How sorry we will all be when your magic fades away!

Written July 16, 2016 for the contest of  David Lindsay

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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A Cloud

A grey cloud in holes
flew in the sky alone,
headed for its dole
all the time along.

Brilliant sunlight spots
fell onto the ground.
Jumped as little balls,
run as a greyhound.

With the insects brittle
rushed along the meadow,
an’ there a May beetle
made another circle.

An’ sounds everywhere
rang out as in a jungle,
the guests in the air
lavishly got jumbled.

Fondly dandelions
crowded all together,
organ-grinders – flyers
played in fair weather.

Suddenly black clouds
gathered in the sky,
blew away round dance
in the near dry.

Soared in the bounds
of the vault of heaven,
the cloud on the ground
fell to form forever.

Copyright © Aleh Barysau | Year Posted 2010

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felled tree

Dear swollen-trunk maple, deemed 
diseased by the saw-happy tree guy, 
you who have stood silently, supposedly 
slipping your ailment through your roots 
to the neighboring trees, now fallen 
full blast down, geometrically down, 
right angle, then parallel at last, your flat-
sawn stump blotched with incriminating 
evidence—you came and leafed 
and are gone, and I who have grown old 
in your lifetime, who intuited you rather 
than knew you, felt you in my bones, 
now feel the slightly thinner woods, 
the hint of frailty. Scott the tree guy 
has carried your eighteen-inch logs in his 
red wheelbarrow and stacked them 
for winter: a little Williams, a little Frost. 
   Oh tree, everywhere I look 
I have to pledge reclamation, fill 
the forest floor with ferns, mushrooms, 
pine needles, and in the side corner 
place the outhouse, practically unused 
anymore, still in good shape, emitting 
its rich human-waste smell, its wood 
smell, its few spiders climbing 
their trellises with their sticky feet. 
Oh tree, so much has been discovered 
to fill in the space where you were: 
seven new species of Philippine 
forest mice, a new genus of blind 
Bulgarian beetle, four new species 
of jewel beetles, six of New World 
micromoths. I have filled my note cards, 
I have left the vertical space open 
for the Ur-tree, the canonical vision 
that will take your place, even the stigmata, 
your bulged and arthritic joints, the 
whither of your leaving, the grand word 
whither standing where you were.

Copyright © alycia Gleeson | Year Posted 2012

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The Strangest Birthday Present I Ever Received

I was brought up on a smallholding when I was a lass
We needed something to help us cut the vast expanse of grass
I wanted a goat and my parents they agreed
We saw one advertised and rushed there at great speed

Poor ‘Susie’ lived in a paved back yard
Finding her food to eat must have been hard
We paid them some money and then the fun began
Travelling home in dads Volkswagen van*

I sat on the back seat with ‘Susie’ next to me
It looked pretty silly – I’m sure you will agree
Back home she bounded out of the car
She trimmed the nearest rose bush – she really was a star

She headed for the washing line and tried to eat dad’s pants
It was pretty hilarious – I can still hear poor dad’s rants
She was ‘with kid’ and got settled in her comfy shed
Her favourite food was bananas she’d eat them all when fed

Finally the great day of the kid’s birth did arrive
I called them ‘Billy and Nanny’ I was filled with great pride
The kids were so cute and  we would take them out for walks
If people saw us out in the street their eyes would be on stalks

The kids they grew so quickly and nanny she got sold
Billy stayed a few more weeks but he was never to get old
Billy became a problem and was sold off in a hurry
I was devastated to find poor Billy was made into curry

This really did happen as written - I had Susie for my 13th birthday present
The ONLY amendment is it was a VW Beetle not a van *

Jan Allison
10th April 2014

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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If bristles are mouth
I shall use them to praise
And my hairs are mouth
I shall use them to praise
For He's leading my way upon the choice I made
For roads are many and manta devours my head
In an abyssal ocean; brain drenched of ideation,
Still I swam a fish hope for season
To change to dry, to dry my brain
Oh! Poor soul in complication
As a beetle lifting a huge rock
With its sucking jaw or beak
When difficulty comes one's means
One might turn into a goose
Little fishes of land giggled and
Stabbed me with outwards.
Um! To God be the glory
The choice I made for poetry
Gave me true dimple grin
As two lovers face each with grin
Till my night was brightened
By bright light shines as gold
Orginated from the moon.


Copyright © Afolabi Muideen | Year Posted 2015

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Professor Paddock of virology

                 Professor Paddock of virology was a stocky man
            He observed a little beetle on the skirt of Messy Anne
                    He took out his double DNA space probe
                        Focused it on Anne's hepatic lobe
        And leapt out of the window without any thoughtful game plan

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

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A Weighty Problem

The little thrill as the wave’s ripple in
Making the hairs stand up, on the surface of my skin.
The kiss of the sun with its warm breath so light
As it soothes my skin with warmth and delight.
The sand rolls around where my hands touch it soft.
The water rolls back and forth carrying pebbles aloft.
Setting shells down with rolling grains of sand 
Making minute rivers run from the fingers of my hand.
The blue of the sky so pale and so pretty
On the horizon I can see the outline of the city.
Birds bob on by walking in the sand,
Not caring that I’m there lying on their land.
Curiously watching me, little eyes darting here and there
Watching for what, I don’t know or care.
A tiny emerald green beetle scuttles on past 
Taking no notice of me, but from the birds, rushes on fast.
The sun is setting; it’s time to go back
The tide has come in but it needs to get back
The coastguard come out and asks so polite
Please can you move, the tide needs to leave tonight.
You have laid there so long, blocking the way
Can you please go back - so the water can flow away?
The ships need to sail and the trawlers come in
But you are blocking the way as you are not that thin.

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012

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An article about a dung beetle Says they devour matter that’s faecal Imagine eating pooh It’s what dung beetles do The fetor of their breath must be lethal! 08-19-17

Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

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A Struggling Poet

they're not speaking to me now, the Muses; 
they're being stubborn, 
witholding information, like beetle-browed accomplices - 
their mouths pulled tight as drawstring purses. 
they sit on their twin thrones of epiphany and genius, 
smiling silently, 
mockingly, while my fingers twitch with impotent yearning 
and the chambers of my mind are cold, 
dark and hollow as a cave. 
i have become a contradiction in terms - 
the wordless poet strikes again...
writer's block is the yoke around my neck, 
the anchor that sends me drifting lachrymose 
into the suffocating depths - 
i am drowning, 
swallowing tendrils of seaweed and tufts of 
gossamer melancholy. 
a struggling artist shouldn't have to work this hard - 
to pay the bills yes, but not to create; 
without the birthing process there is no artist...
yet there is still hope, a smidgen, a dark smudge on the horizon. 
some knight errant might appear, with golden locks 
and a smile that trembles the knees,
to inject love and longing back into my sulky heart. 
he might extend his brave hand, down into 
these murky depths, and yank me up; 
dragging my creativity, bedraggled, choking, 
retching, into the bleak light of inspiration's flare...
but then again, who believes in knights these days? 
i am just as likely to wither away down here, 
among the fishes and the wall-eyed anemones, 
until the words have all filtered from my brain 
and poetry is just a fond memory 
from long-ago halcyon days... 

Copyright © Amy Van de Casteele | Year Posted 2009

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Bigging it up

The family sat (mum, dad, child and the cat)
as they did every Friday for lunch
no-one uttered a word, and all that one heard
was a fork or occasional crunch.
The lad stopped eating chips
wiped brown sauce off his lips
and said “mum, do you know that last night,
I opened my window to let in some air
and then had a terrible fright.
A beetle the size of an ironing board
dropped onto the foot of my bed
and above round the light, the size of a kite
a moth circled over my head!
I pulled up my blanket to under  my eyes
then felt something was touching my hair
and saw, it was scary, a spider, all hairy
with legs the size of a deckchair's! “
 “Now that's enough son”,
 said his impatient mum,
 “ Be quiet and empty your plate,
 If  I've told you once
 I've told you a million times
 never to exaggerate”.

Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2017

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Moon's Rise, Man's Fall

A colorless sunrise, 
this moon...tonight.
Nothing she has to
forget.  Nothing to ready

There behind the swamp's
trees. Soon to fall -
from rot
from age
from beetle
from beaver
from wind.
Still, though
she rises where
all will fall.
Her borrowed light
brightening my
darker, later

Copyright © Stephe Watson | Year Posted 2018

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Beachside Food and Drink Slinks

A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth 
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep

C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen

E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green 
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed

G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king

I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat

K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls

M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive

O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg

Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good

S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends

U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand 
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land

W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell

Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand

All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.

Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2013

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Insects A to Z

A is for Ant, tiny but stout, they can lift fifty times their own weight,
B is for Bee, reaps nectar for honey; may opt to attack if made irate. 

C is for Cricket, chirps his best at night to attract stunning female, 
D is for Dragonfly, fast flier with two pairs of wings; strong not frail.  

E is for Earwig, type of beetle with a pair of pinchers on his belly,
F is for Fly; an ugly pest that invades picnics or anything smelly.

G is for Glow worm, lady of the night, turns on her light for her mate,
H is for Hornet; female ran colony, few males have right to date. 

I is for Inchworm, lack legs in body core causing a looping gait,
J is for June bug, beetle that swarms in June; starving toads seal their fate.  

K is for Kissing bug, sucks blood from the lips or face of unsuspected beasts,
L is for Lady bug, beauty to behold; tastes repulsive to say the least. 

M is for Mosquito, female pest that drinks blood, causes disease in return, 
N is for Nit, eggs of lice clinging to hair till hatched making itch a concern. 

O is for Owlfly, dragonfly-like but not related; with large bulging eyes,
P is for Praying mantis, takes praying pose before ensnaring lunch surprise. 

Q is for Queen Butterfly, close relative to Monarch, russet with black edge,
R is for Rice weevil, pest that lives inside grain; growing in the secured wedge. 

S is for Stink bug, releases foul smell from its thorax when alarmed,
T is for Tsetse fly, bloodsucking kin to house fly; a human host is harmed. 

U is for Underwing, heavy large moth that flies at night; hated garden pest,
V is for Vine borer, moth larva bore in squash vines; sweet insides they ingest. 

W is for Water bug, stores air in a void under his wings; walks on water,
X is for Xerces Blue Butterfly, first U.S. butterfly extinct by home slaughter.

Y is for Yellow plant bug; devastates plants by feeding on tasty plant sap,
Z is for Zebra butterfly, has striking stripes; creaks when he’s faced with a scrap.   

From A to Z there is a menagerie of insects sharing our lives,
some have become extinct but an infinite amount still survives.

Copyright © 2013  By Caryl S. Muzzey

Fifth Place Winner ~ "Z is for Zaria: An ABC Couplet" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Cyndi MacMillian
April 3, 2013

Footnote: I am a sixty-two year old woman who still loves writing poetry, whether I can or not…

Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2013

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THE UN-BEETABLE BUG Simplicity, elasticity, beauty in the thirties, not like some sedans, ugly and beastly This popular car and it's history from the past, from it's World War two template, it sure did last How many know why it's being came to be, a car for the German people, to what you've seen The Sixties starts the decade of the Summer of love, unique form of the bug fits these times like a glove Born in Germany in yellow, black, blue or white, but see I desire the color red so alluringly bright Won't you agree, it looks sexy, pretty and nice? This models size and style sparkles to burst some spice Its voluptuous rounds makes it friendly and sleek, to busy roads and highways surely it can easily sneak It may look slow but I tell you: you are wrong! This small car runs like the shooting star song. Alongside trucks or vans, it doesn't tremble a fear as when I turn the key, horsepower shy with its gear. Easy so easy, I can turn the wheels to any curves soothing so soothing to my sometimes worried nerves Many a design of automobiles will pass but hey, my red Volkswagen still holds the class. The "un-beetable" Beetle bug definitely hits a big shot to a parking lot you can easily save her a spot ___________________________________________________________ 12/30/2015 15.55pm

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015

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There was a black beetle named May
Who lived with a  frog in some hay
Together they would roam 
Adventures far from home
Singing yippe-Ki-yay all day

Copyright © Shane Cooper | Year Posted 2015

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The politician's roll

If I were a fly on the wall.
I'd dwell in the government hall.
I'd observe all  their ravings and rants.
As they determine the fate of the ants.
As they squabble, and bicker, and fight.
Their conclusions, all born of pure spite.
They march straight along party lines.
While the futures of bugs are defined.
They care not of hardships they'll bring.
When the worker bee's forced to sting.
But they'll regret, from their conscience, they strayed.
As the dung beetle rolls them away.

Copyright © Joe Inka | Year Posted 2011

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How am I to Live

I praise You the great Triune God:
 the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
who was; who is; and who will be
forever and ever through the ends of the earth
Your heritage is beyond measured time
The earth formless, void with darkness
You moved over the surface of the deep

Larger than time or space
Yet, gentle as a little lamb.
You’re the color of sunshine’s radiance
of twilights last gleam of reds and gold
of the rainbow arching from horizon to horizon.
I see you in the mighty ocean and the lady bug beetle
I feel your presence as the wind blows softly
Or when the spray of waterfall kisses my face

You walk in the world; the world does not see
You tell mankind how to walk
	“He has told you, O mortal, what is good;
	  And what does the Lord require of you
	But to do justice, and to love kindness,
	And to walk humbly with your God?”
But, how am I to live?

I praise you Lord Jesus
You came and walked healed taught and loved
You bore the sins of mankind
Your shoulders heavy with the weight of generations
From alpha to omega
You died that I might live forever;
But, how I am to live?

I praise you Holy Spirit
You came down as Jesus the Son ascended
You live within me because I believe
The Lord Jesus Christ is my Savior
Sweet Holy Spirit stay here with me
Empower and enable me to know;
How am I to live?

Open my eyes that I may see
Those hungry -- physically and spiritually help me
Those thirsty -- a simple drink to quench their thirst
Those naked – my closet is full
Those in prison – but, there are so many who are different
Those who are sick –a kind visit touch of hand a smile
May they see glimpses of you in me

I praise you God: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit 
King of king Lord of lords
The Yahweh of history
Ever-present ever-powerful everlasting
I am but a speck in your grandeur;
Yet, you guide me and show me
How I am to live.

Micah 6:8

Copyright © E. Pearl Anderson | Year Posted 2011

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Sun Thief

Once upon a time, there lived a boy called Simon.
He was an ordinary boy who did what ordinary nine year old
boys do: collecting bugs and putting them in jars,
speaking to imaginary friends, riding a bike along an empty road
in the woods….. 

As the only child of a Governor and an Egyptologist,
silence was the only company that he knew.
One fine Saturday morning, out of curiosity,
he entered into his mum’s work room,
which was out of bound for anyone,
except her;
she had traveled to Egypt in Cairo,
to help examine a newly discovered mummy.

He went round the workroom, admiring the historical
antiquities from Egypt, Nubia, Ethiopia and Libya,
dating thousands of years back. Suddenly he noticed
something; a green carving of a scarab beetle was glowing
faintly. As he was about to touch it, it glowed more and more
radiantly! So shocked, he ran to his room, and shut the door.

For almost a week Simon never thought of going back to the room.
The episode had made him so shaky that he was afraid of leaving
his room. His parents were so concerned that they called him 
a counselor. Simon was afraid if he said what he had seen in the workroom,
his mother would be upset, for breaking the “out of bound” rules,
and his father would perceive him to be insane.

One full moon spring night, a powerful breeze blew against Simon’s window,
opening it. As he turned to close the window, he saw the green scarab beetle
on his study table. He was frozen with astonishment! Suddenly it unleashed
projector images on his bedroom wall! Clips of a well-built man appeared;
he had a pendant round his neck; the green scarab beetle carving! The
mysterious man was fighting a red-eyed warrior who seemed to levitate,
just like he did. Unfortunately the benevolent-looking man lost the battle,
and the red-eyed warrior flew to the sun, and absorbed it into his scepter.
Soon, he vanished.

“The wounded man is Horus, the hideous warrior is Seth,” a voice from the Scarab 
beetle said. “Since the battle, our world has been in darkness for thousands of 
years. No god had been able to steal Seth’s scepter, without getting damned
into the realm of frozen time.”

The voice went on to say that Seth’s deeds brought forth the fall of ancient 
Egyptian civilization and glory. According to the Book of Ra,
it was said that a boy from the Land of Four Seasons would subdue Seth,
and free the sun from his scepter.

Simon suddenly fainted. All the realities were too hard to grasp.

“Wake up, wake up”, he heard. Slowly he opened his eyes,
only to see unfamiliar people in cloaks and walls filled with
hieroglyphs. He was on a bed, which could change color
at will, according to his emotions. The floor was decorated with a big
scarab beetle symbol. Looking outside the window, it was dusky, cold,
and filled with eerie moans.

Simon was awed and terrified at the same time. He had been transported
to the world of the gods, through astral projection by the green scarab
beetle carving.

“The hero has come to save us!” he heard from outside.

Suddenly the ground began to shake violently, as the shadow of a jackal’s
head danced all over the ceiling. Everywhere the shadow passed, it left
death: flowers wilted, fruits decayed, and rich history written
in hieroglyphs got erased.

“It’s the Evil One!” the immortals screamed.

Suddenly Seth appeared before the boy’s bed, from a dark smoke
that mysteriously vanished, just as the immortal savage appeared.
“I’ll incinerate yooooouuuuuu………….!!!!!!!” he shouted,
as he pointed his scepter to Simon.

A flash of light shot from the scepter, only for the beam to reflect
back to Seth. Simon couldn’t tell what was happening;
his eyes were closed. The medallion round his neck, with a green scarab beetle
had protected him, and defeated Seth. What the Evil One
didn’t know was that Horus’ scarab beetle had chosen Simon as the sole
possessor of Horus’ hidden powers. Seth had once stolen it,
but it disappeared mysteriously from his grasp, for Good cannot blend
with evil.

“I’ll be baaaaack,” Seth roared, as he vanished into a dark smoke.

All of a sudden the sun appeared once again, together with Horus. He glowed
radiantly, as he flew in the blue sky. Slowly he flew down, and patted Simon.
“Thank you my child”, he said. “I’ll always keep watch over you….” The boy 
fell into a mysterious deep sleep, only to wake up again, on his bed. He was
sweaty, confused and enchanted.
Three months later, as he went to collect some bugs for his buggy collection,
He saw a real, life scarab beetle crawling close to a pond. Across the autumn
skies he saw an Ibis flying in a circle around him. The Ibis is the symbol of Horus.

“I’ll always keep watch over you…..” Simon remembered those words,
and began to smile.
He was now a superhero in his own right!

                                               THE END    

Date: 30/1/2017

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2017

Details | Beetle Poem | Create an image from this poem.


Old man Cowell and boy Ted,
Hardcore and alcohol
unlocked doors in his head.

Midnight’s rage held a speculum,
every one of them became Brooks.
Two escapes and from
a sling, cast or uniform
one beetle shell thinned
apartment and dorm.

Swung and dumped on both coasts,
Dipped a hand in the green river,
and lost count of his ghosts.
Paid part of his debt on a Florida chair.
Rode the Lightning to eternity.
Consumed by what awaited him there.

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015

Details | Beetle Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Terminator

One leaf falls
holographic illusion
across time the Terminator travels
to shape Sarah Connors' destiny.
Heart attack
a common enough destiny
as common as young men discussing girls' ****.
The Constitution
is the document we refer to, the lodestone
to correct course and not go crazily astray.
Lose all purpose beyond murder, child sex and food hording.
Illuminated manuscripts
in a dark age, tape decks remind us of our voice
our communal voice
Supremes and Fred Astaire
the silken wail.

I lie alone in the night
its sensuality makes the best sense
it does or does not clarify the day
of classes or clients or chain saws
whatever fever may have infected me at the moment
a fever to achieve access to foreign films while living in the mountain
      community of Schroon Lake
the fever to instruct the American people how to apply ideals and
      practicalities of Constitution to international relationships
the fever not to die today, to maintain consciousness just one more
      season (and one more after that).

Anyway, what is being discussed -
the finiteness of one life -
or perhaps existence continues in another dimension, on another
no owl hoots
but other purpler and indigo occurrences
with other purposes
as incomprehensible and wonderful as these purposes
to choke on a cherry pit or nuclear bomb
to wail our wail together
each individual identifiable hoot and wail, loud laugh and suppressed
one orbicular chant, humanity, from India to Indiana
complete, one sing.

I feel this way
searching for my place among you
childless, but a child among children
obeying or not obeying the speed limit
as my hormones permit
everywhere among brothers, the sisters among sisters
the races together exterminating the last rhinoceros and preserving its
      genes at the zoological society
my species attacking entire rain forests, temperate forests and boreal
like the engraver beetle in the red pine's inner bark.
Thus, I occasionally cheer the Terminator
cheer the machine and neutron bomb
even in the face of individual heroics, the male and female face
their physical love, tender and violent
I don't know what I want.

It could be simple
as this headache.
Not to despair
just to care enough to think clearly and accept 10,000 years of history.
Not to hate those in authority
humor is the only remedy
yellow ape teeth chimping in the glass death face
and ritual is remedy
a death song
and one for planting
and one for the beginning of loving.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015