In solitude I dream tonight
And watch a moth in fevered flight.
It’s drawn toward my quaint porch light
And flies consumed with all its might.
Through open window I can see
Its desperation shared with me;
How freedom in this world is light—
And we as souls are drawn to fight.
Though freedom’s light may cause our death,
It’s worth the risk with every breath.
I understand the moth’s sad plight
When drawn to the glorious light.
Though it knows not of human trust,
It buzzes on because it must!
© Connie Marcum Wong
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2014
He’s a creature small and lowly.
See him move along so slowly -
He has no fins that he might swim,
nor wings that wind might carry him.
And yet there’s something you should know.
God made him special; he can glow
*Earthshine is a newer word and synonymous to Earthlight, which is a natural phenomena of sun reflected off earth particularly on dark side of crescent moon.
This form is a derivative of one called The Compound Word Verse
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
Today I met a mosquito
It wasn’t very fun
She bit me here, she nipped me there
(she even bit my bum)
But I had the last laugh...
I squashed her with my thumb!
1st November 2015
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015
blackbirds in the rain
walking among the fallen leaves
under the old mango tree
with dripping leaves
bathing the grass below
blackbirds diligently lifting
the rain soaked fallen leaves
peering underneath for insects
by the drizzling rain
pausing to gulp one down
then scooting off again
searching for more
sitting under the shed
with raindrops playing their music
on the galvanised sheet roof
with a beat
within my inner being
putting me in a trance
connecting me to the rain
and the puddles on the ground
with the raindrops
gently tapping the water's surface
creating rings that collide
with one another
disrupting their individual shapes
creating a dynamic new pattern
reflecting their unity
and bubbling with energy
in the drizzling rain
O what a deep feeling
of peacefulness and serenity
with the rain
the dripping leaves
and the puddles
serenading my spirit
with the eternal song of Nature
and merging it into the
Unity Of All Things
It was raining today. There was a constant drizzle for hours. I sat in a shed attached to the house, watching the blackbirds in action in the rain, searching for their food. The constant rhythmic sound of the rain on the galvanised sheet roof of the shed and the gentle drama playing out in the backyard with the blackbirds was a spiritual experience for me connecting me with Nature and the unity of all things as mentioned in the last verse.
Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2014
Satin Winged Flowers ...by Carrie Richards and Poet Destroyer
Let us watch how they cluster in whirlwind ballets,
lifting like clouds from the dark swampy ground.
Burrowed in sunlight, then full-bloomed at midnight,
bouquets of white moths wings, that gather like flowers.
Rising from shallows, with satin-soft petals,
that circle the meadow in small constellations.
With great expectations, they rise in their journey.
Star-struck, while seeking the light of the moon.
Imagine a beautiful guide sitting in soft dirt,
as we fathom the mystery indulged with fragrance.
Aborning the beauty bribed by the sullen dark-
Under the lunar month, winged flower stands in confident.
Sailing in wander against the moonlit sky,
pillowed flowers, ring throughout the atmosphere
Satin-soft petals tend to crystallize into splendor form
Behold, the journey embellished by the canvas we adorn.
A Poet Destroyer Collaboration "Midnight Flowers"
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
In the debate between accessible and difficult poems
Poets' poems and poems for people
Only the single poem and private reader matter
Both kinds and anything between can matter or not
Solid or made of air, a vase or heavy clay ashtray
One word repeated or many like a lei
An acquired taste, like wine, and like wine
Not sustenance, yet men die with their miseries
Uncut without it, news and mere matter
I advise everyone to keep a personal anthology of poems that matter
Or not. Perhaps it should be novels. Stones, insect wings,
Feathers, Birds you've seen, People loved.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015
On a beautiful picnic was I
with a wonderful gorgeous new guy
till breaking the mood
and spoiling our food
came a ravenous huge ugly fly.
We got up and walked to the pier
Then what of all things did appear
round our heads as we kissed?
That dang fly that sure missed
our presence and did persevere!
It kept buzzing and buzzing. Oh my!
Just couldn’t stand by and be shy.
So I thrust out my hand
with a slam that was grand.
Squashed fly tossed to river – BYE BYE.
Written Feb. 26, 2017
for Shadow Hamilton's The Unwanted Guest Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017
I watched them across the water prance,
Back and forth in sprightly dance.
Liveried in emerald green, others had a sapphire sheen.
It was natural choreography, by tiny acrobats
As they hovered through the reed beds, hunting bugs and gnats.
A mastery of flight, a ballet in the sky,
How mesmerising to sit and watch, dancing dragonflies.
Copyright © Gary Smith | Year Posted 2016
Tom went to the ugly bug ball
Strange insects invaded the hall
Folks dressed up as fleas,
Cockroaches and bees
The smile on his face said it all
Tom hoped for a little romance
Asked a cute centipede to dance
She whacked him on the nose
When he trod on her toes
He went home in an ambulance!
7th April 2017
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017
**Example for my contest.**
Visions of my past why are they following me?
Leave me the h3!! Alone,
Let me be, the earth is my home.
I am not willing to fly free allowing my deception to roam free.
A passion I no longer see.
I find myself lying on this grass all alone.
Tears caused by my saddened past.
How can I hear the ocean waves, only trees surround me?
A life I cry why me?
I have no guide to show me how
I have been all alone before the age of one.
I have nothing to call my own.
What is that chirping sound?
Allowing me to live knowing my mother, did not care.
An embryo in her womb, safe in your care.
My mother's destruction pulled me out of a life that was not for me.
Where is my guide?
Crickets chirping soundly, how is that supposed to comfort me?
Do you not care for me? Why do you send the smallest insect to laugh at me?
Every time I fall to the ground, a chirping is the only sound.
I'm not ready to be rescued, I have not found my final stop.
Why is this insane insect in front of me?
Is that an annoying sound just for me?
What a silly way to show me who and what you can be!
Thinking of you in the biggest form.
An insect I can hardly see.
Why did it not come to me, on wings?
Do you mock all those times I fell onto the ground?
It was not the ocean waves I heard.
It was always the sounds of millions of crickets around me.
Showing me your power can come in any form, shape, and size.
Next time stings your way into my life like a bee.
. By; p.d.
~~LOL, my worse poem ever~~
~~LOL, what was I thinking~~
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
One hundred million years on Earth
There's no accounting for our worth
Without our quite amazing powers
there would be no trees or flowers
The Earth would be a barren place
No flowers to, your borders, grace
No cereals to make your bread
and keep your teeming millions fed
We've worked our magic without fuss
but now, it seems, you're killing us
Your all consuming need for more
has brought us to extinction's door
Your pesticides have done their worst
Our decline can't be reversed
Because of them we cannot breed
but you don't take the slightest heed
When we're gone most plants will die
and YOUR extinction will be nigh
Without us to pollinate
mankind will have sealed it's fate
It's too late now, the damage done
The end of 'Apis' has begun
All life on Earth brought to its knees
and all because you killed the bees
Copyright © Rob Biden | Year Posted 2014
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.
for Francine Roberts' Whimsy in English Quintain Free Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013
Our supposed modern scientific genius
May in fact just be our last fatal weakness.
This technological house of cards we've made
Left humanity walking along the edge of a razor blade.
How much could you buy or sell using debit or credit
If someone or something wiped out the internet.
A computer virus, terrorists, hackers, or an E.M.P.--
Will wipe out our hard-earned wealth eventually.
Killing beneficial insects is almost like fratricide.
Think really hard again about ever using insecticide.
How many fields of vegetable plants and fruit trees
Will ever bear fruit if there are no more bees.
Rather than organically producing more living topsoil,
We're killing what remains with chemicals derived from oil.
As chemical contaminants follows their downward motions,
Choral reefs and plankton are dying in the oceans.
As a species, we've all become germ-o-phobic neurotics,
Religiously trying to kill all microbes with antibiotics.
But pharmaceutical medicine will never defeat every bug,
So one of these days there's certain to be a super plague.
So will we all starve because we cannot buy or sell,
Or because the oceans and farmlands have all gone to Hell?
Will we be extinguished by some invincible virus?
What ever it be, the fault will probably lie in us!
I wish I could offer some brilliant inspired solution,
But remember that extinction is also a part of evolution.
You may write me off as some kind of nutty alarmist,
But people that know me consider me to be an optimist.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2016
One night a-twinkling in the sky,
I spied a clever firefly
Who glowed the same faint silver-gray
As stars a million miles away.
Although most stars remain afar
I reached out with a big glass jar
Then with a quick and sudden -SWISH-
I caught a twinkling summer's wish!
I whispered to him my desire,
Then set him free -- that twinkling fire.
With lightning speed he went, and soon
He twinkled right on past the moon.
Now when I'm in the dark of night.
If I but look, I'll see his light.
A-twinkling faithful in the sky
My clever little firefly!
Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015
Harassing me for days now
Landing on my eyelid
Nosing up my nostril
Tickling my ankles
and every other exposed body part
Fly-Swatter? Jack be nimble, Jack...
Folded bath towel? (Lamp destroyed)
Raid? Sprayed til I sneezed and choked
and had to quickly retreat outside
(I may have poisoned myself)
Last night it buzzed me awake
I injured various body parts
(Bloody nose, ruptured eardrum)
I want to murder it
I want to assassinate it
but I want to capture it first
pull off it’s puny little wings
and watch it scramble on the floor
all the while crawling behind
laughing, shouting and jeering
'How you like THEM apple peelings?'
before I jump to the ceiling (Boink)
before I stomp and then grind
in a mad and homicidal rage
Whew! I’m feeling pretty okay now
The medication helps immeasurably
I know now why they’re called Asylums
They are refuge from a brutal environment
a world dominated and controlled by---Bssst!!
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015
Subtitled: WELL! You didn't have to bite my HEAD off...
Gladly would I die
for your love, my dear. No! Wait!
Just kidding! Just kid...
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013
THE BUTTERFLY AND ME
tiptoe upon roses rise
playful in pirouette,
with the singing voice
of a clarinet...
Wouldn't this view
capture your eyes?
Swarm of honey fragrance
fans my cheeks and so my hair,
I turn around
and see a butterfly so flair.
I run, run
run to chase such butterfly with care
but pity, I missed
so I just stand and stare...
the curves and swells
of the hibiscus
is a butterfly
that dance in ballet hush,
tickling the petals,
oh! they bend and blush--
won't these two wonders
make a sublime meniscus?
Do gaze at a butterfly
say hello or wave a hi
colorful they are
but they only live for awhile
Blessed, we are given years to live by
but as colorful as how butterfly paints the sky
Do we also brush the whole world with a rainbow smile?
© O.E. Guillermo
09:57 pm, January30, 2015
Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2015
Hey! Get lost wasp you are a pesky swine
This cherry ice cream is mine ALL mine
You buzz around and make my life hell
Look - this ice cream is for ME it tastes so swell
I need to cool down, gee here it’s really hot
So buzz off pesky wasp or you I will swat
1st November 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
Green katydid plays
cool songs by rubbing its wings
Copyright © Valerie Staton | Year Posted 2014
At the stump of the fig tree
where sweetness and fragrance
have long departed
a rain spider has built a nest
of autumn-dried leaves
covered with a blanket
of delicate silk.
I stand and watch
the little spiders
coming out to play
in smooth fur jackets -
first, a game of tag
and then a fencing game
with slender long legs.
Soon they will spread out
and scurry around in the hunt for food;
raising neck hairs and bring shrieks of terror
as they intimidate nervous children and wives.
Copyright © David De la Croes | Year Posted 2013
Today I saw a pesky fly
He buzzed around all day …
Until he landed on my lunch
So I zapped him with fly spray!
Now you’re really in the sky
Rest in peace little fly
9th November 2014
Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014
Slipping into shapes
sun drips streams 'round darkest depth
and I, feeling small,
find even smallest ants cast
shadows long 'neath vast blue skies.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
I sing to the world as evening arrives,
my sweet dulcet voice calling.
When out of the blue a giant stops by.
Under the verdant green bush I hide
while around me I watch the leaves falling.
So awkwardly they bumble through
the giants on legs spindly and long.
Walking past dogwood and bending yew,
my hiding place in constant view,
he stops and looks, he hears my song.
Cup in hand he walks toward me.
My gentle voice I silence.
Looking through each bush and tree,
as leaves quiver in gentle breeze,
My mind in tranquil quiescence.
A hand extends through thicket dense
to grab me from the perch I've known.
His hesitation I can sense,
as voice I hear from distance says,
"James, leave the crickets alone."
Copyright © James Inman | Year Posted 2015
A Long, Long Time ago, there was a cricket whose name
was Blue, she was named after the sky that she loved so true.
All day long she would look up at the sky while the other
crickets played and hopped merrily on by.
Then one day a dragonfly landed near and he heard the
whispered wish, the cricket held so dear.
Crickets my dear, he said, belong on the ground and if
you fell, well, you may never ever be found.
The little cricket answered yes I know, but to the sky
is where my heart longs to go. I have wings to help me fly
but they only carry me about one foot high.
To the top is where I long to be.
Hey! Maybe you could help me.
I don't know if that is a safe thing to do little cricket
but if you can help me then I will try and help you.
What can I do to help dragonfly, the cricket cheerfully asked?
Some rain would be nice to put in my water flask.
I carry water to those of us who are sick but there seems to be a
water shortage since the farmer filled in the ditch.
I would be more than glad to help and the cricket sung her beautiful song,
then tender raindrops fell from the sky and the dragonfly was pleased
as he carried water half the day long to those in need.
When the sky cleared and there was no more rain, the cricket waited
for the dragonfly to return again, and when he did not come back to her,
the cricket's face had a look of concern.
I know he will return, the cricket whispered to herself low, he just has to
for he promised me so. Just as the sun begin to set low, along came the dragonfly and asked, Are you ready to go?
The cricket said, Yes as her heart for this had cheerfully longed.
The little cricket jumped on the dragonflies back and held tightly on.
To the top of the tree he flew and landed on the tip top as he promised her
he would do. The crickets eyes filled with wonder and tears.
This is what she had been dreaming of, for years.
The dragonfly's days were never worried about drought, whenever his cricket
friend was about and the Cricket took many journeys on the dragonflies back.
She told her story in a song again and again. The tale of how a cricket flew
up into the sky, on the back of her dragonfly friend.
Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2016
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