Best Damselfly Poems
damselfly
a blue wisp
of a whisper
AP: 2nd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2020
The male Hine’s Emerald patrols his cattail fen
low through sedge and seepage
his compound eyes pluck gnats from the air
two yellow bars flash along his thorax
hindwings catch the morning
Chimanimani Mountain mist beads over quartz
the female Rock Threadtail
six black feet braced on the edge
her wing tilted toward the sun
eyes—black
He misses the gnat
darts, veers, halts midair, pivots
his ommatidia fixed on her raised wing
smitten, his heading shifts
the female Rock Threadtail rests above her stream
=======
Such beauty and so full of life,
she's flitting to and fro,
from plant to plant to find best perch
and put herself on show.
Sprawling in the midday sun
she is a splendid sight.
Her slender abdomen dressed in
metallic blue so bright.
Her wings are thin fragile fabric,
fine lace she must protect.
Her huge domed eyes focussed and keen
search around to locate
the fittest males upon the scene.
There's one with flying skill.
He plays the game of hide and seek.
Now, she joins in the thrill.
They fly off to the undergrowth.
In heartwheel there they play.
Now all her eggs become fertile.
A batch of them she lay
and after some minutes of rest
she starts another game,
but this time with different male.
This lady has no shame.
Across the moor
To Wicken Fen
Where brume swallows all
Into mire, of the life,
At river‘s end
But, begins
The serenades of dawn, unto sipid dew
And they gather into warmth
Upon and onto rising shines,
Of morning plume
She mist
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"
ALONG
loch-studded moorland
bogs and runnels
and o'er the Highland Pass
antennae alert
I'll twist the wind
to
feed
my
Bonny
Lass
single blade of grass
damselfly is grasshopper
springs to hawk the beck
Written: March 20, 2022
Her swift and wondrous gait enthralls
upon the light of lightest evening--
bedecked in turquoise- gold finery
sewn by earth’s intricate handiwork...
a mature nymph hovers along the pond
to relish delicacy of ornate leaves:
How a bodice quite lanky, svelte flits by,
an aura of gracious elegance
illumines dew with her colorful, sequined robes;
and arching forward to grasp an uninvited prey
those almond eyes fearless trace bravely the view--
Perhaps she is the first of many to grow
a dainty yet bold damsel protecting nature's rites,
for this is truly a wondrous display
her contour glimmering in this faded dusk;
then she skims away… quick like wings forward spun,
before I could clutch this agile nymph on my palm!
---------------
Brian Strand: Early February 2019 Contest
Damselflies are dainty, they are wisest of the wise.
Dragonflies a bit dumpy, much bigger than you and I.
I am a three-tailed Mayfly, so I am an expert in flies.
You can call me a Stonefly, but only if your name is Sigh.
We fly in swarms, but you may not see us for a while
For we are less than a finger-tip length long, and we do not smile.
We have not mouths or tummies, for we do not survive too long.
The longest we could survive is a week, and that is way too long.
Our job is to mate and die, the happy motto of the Mayfly.
Mate in flight. Mate in sight. Mate and die. Mate and sigh.
That is the fate of the true Mayfly. Some of us last merely minutes.
Then fall back into the water to feed the fish that are in it.
Mate and die. Mate and sigh. This is the song of the happy Mayfly.
We cannot sing for we have no mouth, but we can hum if we try.
Mate and die, Mate and sigh. We mate so light, and we mate in flight.
Spy a delicate winged fly with three tails? She is a Mayfly all right.
a mere breath in flight
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Colorful needles
Glide through the sky
Flying critters daedal~
Swarm of Damselflies
With vibrant slender bodies
And intricately designed wings
They jubilantly dance in the sky
True glee to the viewers, they bring
Merrily drench in the rain showers
Rhythmically jump around the flowers
Angels from the world old~ they are
quite a sight to behold
in june wilderness
flitting across babbling brook ~
a swift damselfly
Summer Nature Themed Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin
Date written: 06/26/2022
Damselfly was in demand, she dated all the time.
She dated squirrels, blue jays, caterpillars, and a slug with grime.
She needs to date an octopus, her relative said, that might last.
He would be in the ocean, and their courtship would be a blast.
Along came a dragonfly who heard the conversation.
He began to court the damselfly who fell for him on vacation.
a damselfly
come to visit
peeks in my window
AP: 2nd place 2021
if you are silent
not merely quiet
but if you do not make a sound
she might come by
can I breathe
not loudly
and so we waited.
four afternoons in a row
she arrived on the fifth afternoon
landed on a verdent stalk
she was exquisite with faerie wings
prettiest damselfly I have ever seen
only damsel fly I have ever seen
Cinderella Damselfly was inspired as she clung to the Nebraska wheat
her sparkly filigree wings were dazzled with Midwestern dew.
she clung to the stalk in a desperate lonely ignored women’s way.
her empathy felt that something marvelous would arrive with the sun.
her translucent wings would soon be dried and she could glide away.
where to go? Who needed a miracle lift? A glimpse of the spirit world?
damselfly watched a gorgeous male cardinal fly off to the east.
was this a God sign that she should she go west? Was east covered?
or did east need extra help from willing spiritual messengers?
Cinderella Damselfly had time to think about it; her wings were not yet dry.