Best Crickets Poems

Music of crickets
On warm summer morning
Praising God above...

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Take a flight
to the tune of this night
listen to the falling dew drops'  song.

How they whisper love talks to the flowers night long
how jingles of silver moon make their love prolonged.

Sound of silence captures one and all
leaves murmur as they fall
crickets' call.

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Contest:Melody of night-Trois...

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As winter approaches, their songs die out
Their gentle chirping I can’t live without
     Field mice make their way inside
     Lizards under my couch hide
So what’s with the crickets; have they no clout?

Green crickets in Florida grow quite...

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Disembodied howls
Tunneling through the black night
My soul begs to rest



August 2014
© All Rights Reserved...

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CRICKETS IN HEAD
I’m a NeoPagan
From the Church of All Worlds
Dedicated to the celebration of Life.
I’m set on a land in the long run
Looking for crackets.
The brooms come higher that I expected
And the hole throws up and has to open its songs.
I have ears to hear...

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nighttime crickets chirp
in a warm summer evening
loudly making call

Russell Sivey...

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Crickets chirping
This sultry summer night
Stereo panning
Left & right
Music to my ears
Thought they keep out of sight...

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Little black creatures 
chirping through the dark of night 
such a soothing sound. 

Copyright Cynthia Jones 
Jan.21/2005...

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Dark moon day of August
I stepping on a nail
hospital tetanus shot
I draw Kenaz from my Rune bag

Sitting out at night
First time crickets sing
Starry sky's Milky Way
Two shooting stars see me

My black cat runs by
Dog howls down the road
Forest spirits are afoot
Really too much magic...

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Just a word against acrimony 
the key is really this, you see
don’t let the bully rule
by reacting to their hideous drool
turn the intentional blind eye 
away from their taunting cries
without “attention” they fizzle out
vitriol dries upon the spout
take the “high road”, it can be done
quickly...

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little booted buddha
   hopping in a monsoon knapsack.

  a mural pasture filled with green
   slender stalks lean in rows.

  children are playing in between the spaces
  dark skinned and vibrant.

  they wear snorkels around their heads
 ...

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i sit here
aside the lake
grounded
in thoughts
alone

the full-moon rising
casts a lambent light
on the watery stage
where the orchestra
of night normally plays

there is no song
falling off cricket's wings
no cicadas of melody
singing along

the flowers stand tall
for they cannot bow down
to the final chimes
in night's call
when a breathless wind
befalls around...

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yellow light 
tinge to the air ...
crickets fall silent...

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warm breeze eventide
fireflies light pink roses
crickets sing a song....

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There is a whisper through the wind
a sort of haunting
yet charming  thing.

A quiet flutter
from an old oak tree
while cricket's 
perfect rhythm 
replenish the land

I sit by placidly
as if seized by a dream,
closing my eyes: 

         ...

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