Best Moths Poems
Luna moths in mid flight
giving the world a sense of delight
they seem evermore bright
things will now be all right
I love the sense of air and light
Luna moths bring in me in the night
I wish I may I wish I might
Live a life so nice and tight
That some day I can return so bright
And be a luna moth in mid flight
Giving the world a sense of delight
Warming up creatures of the night
A SPRING VIEWING HONEYDEW MOTHS AND BUTTERFLIES-
viewing pleasure spring
when live honeydew melon
out of butterflies
sunny dancing air
A white, dancing moth dancing
into the petal
spring viewing pleasure
fluorescent butterflies flies
as sweet melons lie
written words James Edward Lee Sr.2019©
Midnight in village,
No moon, no power,
Lamp lit up by granny
Flickered with hope;
Lured by its flame,
Moths spiral around,
Making loops and coils
Only to get burnt.
Date: 06/17/2021
For Workshop: Adjectives Deleted Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jack Webster
a thought and idea thief - how deep you fall - you small moth
29/12/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
A Thief Who Steals Your Thoughts Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Bobby May
14 syllables
1st place in the contest
Luna flower spread open scented blossom
In response to the full moon's soft yellow glow
So much designed like a Sand Dollar
Amazing the resemblence even with first sight
Humming Bird Moths drawn to the glowing white
The irresistable beauty and appealing scent
Ten were buzzing, humming drinking nectar
From white beauty by only moonlight
Ants were working even at night
Drawn to the goodness that will leave at dawn
Preparing a storehouse of goodness for winter
So that the species can survive to rule summer picnics
That scented sticky nectar must be delicious
Tasting like a very rich clover honey
So sweet that just a tiny amount sweetens
So many slices of simple bread
Amazing the blessings to enjoy from simplicity
The simplest things in life sometimes give goodness
That wealth can't provide
Sometimes wealth has gardens but not enjoyed
The tiny moths are falling
They fall,
Drifting
Ever
So
Slowly
In the absence of wind.
But sometimes the sky breathes
Gentle sigh and they flutter
Angry huff and they fly
Either way, they like me
I can tell by the way
They cling to my hair
But my love is too much
Too hot
For their fragile wings
And they fade within seconds
Of saying my name
I stand under a blank slate,
A wide expanse of nightscape.
The moth circles the light source
The dimming lightbulb flickers once.
I swirl alone in peace.
I prefer to breathe in silence.
I discern a brief distinction
Between destiny and descent
Between satire and dissent.
Between repentance and regret.
I dig between the lines
Until the dirt beneath my nails
Reveals to I and I
Like a nail unto my palm,
Like the moth circling the light
Waiting to devour my death.
Moths and butterflies
Cycle of births and rebirths
Moths and butterflies
Moths and butterflies/haiku Copyright (C) rajat kanti chakrabarty 23 November 2014
MOTHS ON THE WINDOW PANE
Like abandoned waifs
Their faces at the window pane:
Big eyes and flapless wings
All pale and colorless
Out in the dark night,
Silent witnesses
Staring into my life
Listening impassively
As you quietly explained -
You had met
A new face and wanted
To be
Free
To be
With him and
You were leaving me -
My heart was crushed
And throat was choked
As I stared out
Into the silent blackness,
All pale and colorless
With flapless wings
Abandoned.
Silk beads spun at dusk,
Glistening through the moonlight:
Invisible net.
through the murky knottiness of hollow winter trees
I saw the pale face of unseeing man
who wasn't there through years that went by
the candlelight is about to turn into fluid clay
and wigs are prepared for nocturnal art
art of waiting
art of strangeness
art of wishing
art of breathing
necessary for the stay between animate walls
in a place where secrets buried within rise up
in a place surrounded by forests of steel
and aluminium prairies
where vigilant cherubs carry revolvers
and deliver all the cryptic revelations
the disturbing motorcade is slowly approaching
and someone is tapping
on my shoulder
a breeze in trees
tiny moths flutter like bees-
cherry blossoms me
mornng dew on a rose-
sleepy moths
start to doze
Moths do not appear too bright
When barreling into the light.
No matter if it’s bulb or flame,
Their gut reaction is the same.
We humans, though, don’t differ much.
We’re drawn to things we shouldn’t touch –
Like drugs or gambling, food or booze –
So many vices we can choose.
And then, like moths, ourselves we fling
In search of what we think will bring
Contentment or a sense of joy,
Forgetting that such things destroy.
An easy fix is rarely found
So soon we end up on the ground
Dejected, downcast and abashed
With wizened wings and hopes quite dashed.
Moths are weird creatures
Where they come from no one knows
But what kind of bug
Would want to eat your clothes?
Don't set a Trap to catch them
Here's what would be smart
Throw a few moth balls here and there
And stop them before they start
~Dedicated to a good friend upon request~
Yellow and
candyfloss pink
pastels,
feathered fluffy.
A masterpiece of
powdery
soft strokes
and vivid
colors.
Strikingly
beautiful:
rosy maple moths
are splendiferous and
quite
extraordinary.