leafy, tree lined lanes
rich, wild flower verges -
Copyright © LINDA JACKSON | Year Posted 2013
Across the moor
To Wicken Fen
Where brume swallows all
Into mire, of the life,
At river‘s end
The serenades of dawn, unto sipid dew
And they gather into warmth
Upon and onto rising shines,
Of morning plume
Of the brittle heath
You may slip away
But, what does awaken, nymphs of lore
Poised to face this day
And in trust
Beauty charms the wind
Upon what was last
Of once a virgin wing
Over forenoon lust, a blush
Swoon those marsh lily eyes
And perch upon fragrance of Lady’s slipper
Thus, the dance romantic
Of the Fenland Damselfly
Round twiddle round and through
As Adler to the willow
A maiden’s flight in sapphire circles
Alluring danseur fly a ready
Hasten, beset to follow
Bestride, thus straddle oft
Atop the grain shallow reed
Softer cross the moss of peat to settle
To end nature's pretense
Sow and plant its seed
Here aloft the glisten, venery ends
Vixen drinks in insect life
Of instinct passions by danseur prey
A finale at river’s fen, resets the stage
Once again to the "Dance of the Damselfly"
Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2011
If I should find a Butterfly,
Neath the Willow tree,
I’d recall how she’d been an ugly bug,
But now a wondrous, sight to see.
If I could talk to a Dragonfly,
Hovering by the water spring,
We’d talk of flight so graceful,
and life, on gossamer wing.
If I look upon the Crane fly,
Attracted by the light,
His giant wings are flapping,
In a transient, short-lived fight.
If I might walk with a Firefly,
In the twilight time of day,
This tiny insect with belly aglow,
Will help, to light my way.
If I sat down with the Mayfly,
As she skims the river flow,
Applaud her airborne gymnastics,
While life all around, moves slow.
If I should see the Damselfly,
Resting on a leaf by a pond,
I’d remark at his long red body,
At one, with nature and their bond
Copyright © Kevin Shaw | Year Posted 2017
Dragonfly Damsel engaging such wonder
Discovers a world between water and land
Magical enchantment her filmy wings stand
Refracting worlds beheld from another
Lucent pools echo translucent colors
Iridescent gossamer winged flyer
Damselfly dance into the sun higher
Filling us with fervor as she hovers
Soaring predator scorched with her fire
Dragonfly protects and patrols her terrain
Teaching us balance is every thing
Anciently ruling this marshy mire
This gossamer flyer is awesome pay heed
She glistens along while skimming water
Fire burns inside her ever so hotter
Nothing compares to her exceptional speed
Protect what is yours, her message to us
Rational thought sometimes ruminates
Let go of “Father Time” who dictates
Rambunctiously live your lives with lust
Copyright © Jane Bowen | Year Posted 2008
bogs and runnels
and o'er the Highland Pass
I'll twist the wind
Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2009
Basking feast on bobbed wire,
The sun warms; next, flight.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
December 7, 2009
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2009
Naught but a maze shall carry this
bound in cloud
through the tunnels of twigs
shall freedom range to the applause of leaves
Tangency poised on the ballet of grass
such hurricane stanzas embrace
these burnished strings of delicate harp
or sigh replete in the arms of love
And spire to crest
on foamed peaks
the howling storm on heart beat, beats
tempo to damselfly wings of gossamer threads
Be thee spoken of a breathing spell
and owe all to plumed spires
and so conjure such a vaunted splendour
lest it be a riddle spoken in a breeze
Ah but first breath
let the spirit run to forever
and carry aloft the perfume of free
You sense it not
nor ponder the flight of miracles
in the commonwealth of angles
shall freedom range to the applause of leaves
Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2016
Our woods and valleys once spread far.
Now they've become an urban scar,
as building starts upon this moor.
The JCB is scraping away
the layer of soil to leave the clay
and twenty acres gone today.
Hedges they tear and roots they rip.
Hawthorne and gorse into the skip
then take them to the landfill tip.
Burrows and nests are torn apart.
Badgers booted out at the start.
An injured fox flung in the cart.
That babbling brook that fed the pond
is piped away to take beyond
in concrete culvert underground.
The downstream pool now runs dry.
Remaining tadpoles thrash and die.
So no more frogs or damselfly.
Trenches are dug, the ground to part.
Ancient remains they don't report
because the progress that would thwart.
Now folk move in to their new home
with plastic grass and factory stone
and gaily coloured garden gnome.
White PVC we see for miles
and grey styrene roofing tiles.
All cheap synthetic building styles.
Now, tell me this for I don't know.
In this extensive building show.
Where did all the wildlife go?
Copyright © Tony Hargreaves | Year Posted 2017