Best Repellent Poems
I’d been bitten by a mosquito she was such a hungry beast
She landed on my arm, and on my blood she had a feast
My arm got red and itchy as she’d taken a tasty bite
Two red bumps appeared, my poor arm it looked a sight!
Victor called the waitress over and whispered something in her ear
He’d asked her bring some lemon slices; I thought this very *****!
The lemon slices arrived – but they were not to go in gin
Victor gently took my arm and rubbed the lemon on my skin!
The itching disappeared and soon the redness was gone
Next time I go to Malta I’ll put some insect repellent on!
A true story from my recent visit to Malta. I am so grateful to Victor for his wonderful tip it really was 'lemon aid'
11~04~16
Arriving there, open door to floors bare
Moist was air, dwelling effusive with peace
The enigma of time began to cease
Oblivion to all but ocean, just stare
Simplicity for a few days; nowhere
To go, timeless, watch Gulls instead of Geese
Yesterday's ravenous problems release
Now live on sublime seaside oasis' air
Aster, Willow won't sway in zephyr this day
Only kaleidoscope color 'pon water shone
Exquisite view for me, myself, alone
This ecstasy delight not auspice by they
Lilac, Lily doesn't bloom, chrome rust away
Impervious bug repellent glistens in defiant stone
Contest: Secret
What I enjoy might very well be
Something you despise.
The things that light me up may be
Unpleasant to your eyes.
But that’s what makes the world go round;
Variety’s the spice.
What you find unappealing
Could, to me, be paradise.
There are no rights or wrongs when you
Account for someone’s taste.
Endeavors at persuasion,
In most cases, are a waste.
It’s best for all to nod our heads,
Accepting as a fact
That what one finds repellent
May another thus attract.
a post from 2014
for my beautiful granddaughter, Alexandra
After 13 days of confinement,
a caterpillar broke out of her butterfly egg,
Then ate the shell and pipevine leaf,
upon which it was laid,
A small fuzzy caterpillar,
with red spikes sticking out her sides and top,
She noticed on her middle,
a bright yellow colored spot-
Pipevine plants are toxic,
to things that are alive,
But for Queen Alexandra,
they would help her to survive,
These leaves would be her food source –
a repellent to her foes,
And if a predator caught her,
they’d vomit up and go-
Queen Alexandra wondered,
where on earth she might be,
Glancing at a tree canopy,
1,300 feet above the sea,
She noticed the thick greenery,
covering all the ground below,
And knew that only in a rainforest,
could this kind of vegetation grow-
Queen Alexandra didn’t know the name,
Papua New Guinea,
The tropical rainforest home,
to the largest butterflies that be,
Loggers destroying habitat,
collectors catching this species fast,
Predictions for her family –
only until the year 2021 to last-
Queen Alexandra as a caterpillar,
ate and grew for 120 days,
Shedding her skin six times was work,
not any fun or play,
Then she tightly clung
to the underside of a pipevine leaf,
And changed into a pupa,
the outside hardening as a protective sheath-
Inside changing her looks,
” metamorphosis” in her safe cocoon,
Forty days later emerging as a butterfly,
in hours long before noon,
Her 12 inch wings were mostly brown,
with pale yellow hues,
Her brother’s wings were smaller,
with streaks of iridescent blue-
So flying up they joined a group –
Queen Alexandra and her brother,
A gathering of butterflies together, you see,
is referred to as a “flutter,”
For about three months they’d fly,
at the top of the tree canopy,
This endangered “Queen Alexandra” Butterfly,
a beautiful rarity to see!
Don’t forget the insect repellent
Mosquitoes can cause such discontent
These bugs make me itch
Watch me swat and twitch
The cost of “Off” is money well spent
Written April 3, 2014
Back on the river, forward into the howl of the unknown,
for three days Sergeant Floyd has been crippled by excruciating pain in his abdomen,
as the only man here trained in internal medical matters it is incumbent on me to treat him,
Doctor Rush's "Thunderbolt" pills are failing to alleviate the malady
and the ground Peruvian bark hardly sedates Flyod, his agony is bleeding into the eyes,
for 48 hours the rains have been rampant making the river sizzle in cool agitation
the mosquitos are swarming like whispers in a brothel
they are the devil's needles, we resort to spreading lard on ourselves as a repellent,
ironically, despite the downpours the wind is high at our backs
so the sails are up and we are moving swift as a curse off a witch's lips,
Sergeant Pryor woke on the boat this morning with news of death
his voice didn't wait for breath, the steps of his boots broke open my irritation
after informing me that Charles had recently died,
I believe he expired from a ruptured appendix which we had no remedy for,
he had the soul of a lion, Godspeed to him,
while I slept my spittle smeared the ink in my journal
forming a pictorial omen of a tombstone on the page,
the only question is whom be it for,
Clark has identified a suitable burial place for Flyod on a large hill,
no one speaks, its just the slurp of the paddled water
and a handful of gold finch birds that seem determined to skip on the wind
reminding us that there is always a place for a soul to go,
coming up on the riverbend we are accosted by an armada of geese
so plenty that the trees wish they had that number in leaves,
my Lord, the ruckus these creatures are generating in honking indignance
as they lift into flight is nerve pinching,
its like an army of imbecilic people shouting in panic all at once
yet these geese are noble in their beauty and militant nature
and I see this moment as a sign that no Indians will interdict our passage,
J.A.B.
Spindly stretching brambles rebel from main form
Amused bending stems eject spikes of rhino horn
Thorns barely a repellent for birds resourceful
Tweezer glowing twilight globe, a bitter morsel
Fresh field alien green cone births berry's infant
Chantilly lace pale pink petticoat wraps nymphet
Confetti celebratory moult bulges her fertility
Eighty protruding bulbs shiver in vulnerability
Stern season carousel chastens scanty branches
Snow swallow, boggy terrain new tepid attaches
Saw edge foliage unfold, twitching fox ears
Clusters encombour limbs, absinthe adheres
Florid flocks tossle, augment midnight family babble
Morning dew melt sapor stains fingers which dabble
Outcast tongue teaser, lumpy rubber cleaved
Mauve motivate jaunty juice, mouth received
9th August 2022
Written for Contest:
Thoughts on Blackberries
Sponsor:
Matt Caliri
I did not have much of a thing with mosquitoes. That is until we visited
a famous plantation home on the Cape Fear river near Wilmington,
North Carolina one summer. We were especially excited to view
Orton Plantation's extensive flower gardens.
But, soon as we all climbed out of the car. we were attacked by black
clouds of the insects even though we had on repellent. We ran back to the car
with my young nephew crying and screaming, "We're not going to ever come
back here, are we?"
So ended that memorable trip covered with hundreds of itchy bites.
river still
thousands of lotus blossoms
look up at the sun
Published - Cattails - Spring- 2016
ON LOOKING AT SCHILLER’S SKULL
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here in this charnel-house full of bleaching bones,
like yesteryear’s
fading souvenirs,
I see the skulls arranged in strange ordered rows.
Who knows whose owners might have beheaded peers,
packed tightly here
despite once repellent hate?
Here weaponless, they stand, in this gentled state.
These arms and hands, they once were so delicate!
How articulately
they moved! Ah me!
What athletes once paced about on these padded feet?
Still there’s no hope of rest for you, lost souls!
Deprived of graves,
forced here like slaves
to occupy this overworld, unlamented ghouls!
Now who’s to know who loved one orb here detained?
Except for me;
reader, hear my plea:
I know the grandeur of the mind it contained!
Yes, and I know the impulse true love would stir
here, where I stand
in this alien land
surrounded by these husks, like a treasurer!
Even in this cold,
in this dust and mould
I am startled by an a strange, ancient reverie, …
as if this shrine to death could quicken me!
One shape out of the past keeps calling me
with its mystery!
Still retaining its former angelic grace!
And at that ecstatic sight, I am back at sea ...
Swept by that current to where immortals race.
O secret vessel, you
gave Life its truth.
It falls on me now to recall your expressive face.
I turn away, abashed here by what I see:
this mould was worth
more than all the earth.
Let me breathe fresh air and let my wild thoughts run free!
What is there better in this dark Life than he
who gives us a sense of man’s divinity,
of his place in the universe?
A man who’s both flesh and spirit—living verse!
To The Muse
by Friedrich Schiller
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I do not know what I would be,
without you, gentle Muse!,
but I’m sick at heart to see
those who disabuse.
Keywords/Tags: Goethe, Schiller, German, Germany, translation, skull, bones, body, charnel, house, grave, best friend, friendship love, funeral, souls, soulmate, ghosts, spirit, flesh, dead, death, shrine, divinity, universe
Deep pain bores into scalp as eyelids struggle to open;
Glaring sun menaces eyes as they face the sky boldly.
First thought dawns on me like elixir; I'm alive!
The vast blue sky seems to smile upon my spirit holy.
Hands try to grasp hot sand as I wade to turn on stomach.
Pitiless grains escape between my fingers, mockingly.
In tremendous effort, I crawl to nearest patch of shade.
My heart pumps heavily while sweat oozes out profusely.
Images flash; I'm pushed off yacht by lover unfaithful.
Mock inability to swim; I acted it wisely.
His satisfied grin is all I could see before diving.
Skills of past champion revived, I swam courageously.
This virgin island, is haven to me now;
Life's strong in me! Branches I shove away, decisively.
Cautious exploration; Travelers trees welcome me.
With stick sharp I poke at it, water flows abundantly!
I do drink to my content and refresh myself while hares
jump around; I whisper to them and one stops daringly.
"Angel" I mumble as I follow it; on water melon I stumble.
Food! Hit with stone; humid sweet red flesh to wolf greedily.
Twigs, I gather and "SOS" I draw on the white expanse.
Angel from hole, under branched tree, beckons me temptingly.
A red bird hovers; branches dry and green, some Ravenala leaves,
enough to give me most desired tree lodge, marvelously.
"Now, some thorough exploration." Angel nods approval.
Disgust filled heart softens and I long to hug her fondly.
On other side of island, I land in a rocky area.
Good heaven! Rainwater is trapped in a pond; so lovely.
The sun sets the direction and I venture inland.
Swarm of mosquitoes invade my burnt skin, voraciously.
I run like a mad to land among wild peppermint.
No mosquito here…repellent herbs! I deduce quickly.
Handfuls I pluck, to rub on my body at night.
My watermelon shell, now dry, serves me efficiently.
Pipik, my red bird and Angel watch "friends, how to light this tinder nest?"
Eureka! here, my heart shaped glass pendant gleams suddenly.
Settled nearly for a week now, hope never leaves me.. I'm to live!
2/02/17
2nd and 4th line of each quatrain has 14 syllable.
(checked on howmanysyllable.com)
Placed 4th on 6 winners (judged 7/02/17) Tropical Island by Shadow Hamilton
I fear, I will not be enough for that world outside,
I will not measure up to that who they expect me to be, want me to be.
I fear the one I breathe… the one I see, will only see another.
I fear for these faults I have, these weaknesses… those flaws.
Who will cherish, who will want… those flaws I have?
I fear, for my weigh on a machine...
It says repellent, it says obese
I fear, for my length on scale…
It says unattractive, it says midget
I fear the night, how I prefer the light instead, the bright instead
Those owls and rats and bats; those foul creatures of the night.
I fear the world, will misunderstand these thoughts I have
Misinterpret these ideas I have.
I fear the world will not appreciate;
Those hours on the mirror, those rivers I sweat.
I fear I shall not attain those goals I have, those dreams I dream
My enemies will prosper, while misery and despair are paired with me
I fear they will change my parts… make me into a thing with no heart
A thing with no face… and look down on my race!
I fear the questions I have, the doubts I have
But more than ore, I fear I shall die before I live,
I fear I shall not live till I die!
wildflower meadow
as tall as a muntjac
cuckoo cuckooing
-
farmers haymaking
grasshoppers stridulating
don't touch a stinkbug
-
wood admiral glides
honeysuckle its host plant
humid the hot nights
-
warm is the river
fish rising leaping for flies
life seeking cool shade
-
inverted swimmers
water boatmen taking in air
cygnets follow pen
-
as fall approaches
swifts are well on their way
second brood blackbirds
-
hungry mosquitoes
human siestas a nap
insect repellent
-
sunbathing insects
flowerflies hovering free
mowers thrashing lawns
-
farmers cutting hay
a smell not forgotten
wildlife be afraid
-
sunbathers warning
cream up or suffer sunburn
worse melanoma
-
swifts immature
three years on the wing
unbelievable
-
sand martins nesting
adorning soft sandy clifts
freshwater skimmers
-
dragonflies masters
watch them fly backwards a thrill
kingfishers posing
-
super hot weather
droughts not good for wildlife
reprieved... thunderstorms
-
climate warming
both poles can't take the heat
humans all sweating
-
a countryside walk
on a warm sunlit day
foxes sunbathing
The Hunter for PD
Yesterday, I visited
the timeless monastery
where the Buddhist monks dwell,
the place a sublime testament
to their simplicity, perception
and peace.
With delight,
I viewed the fragment of skull
and the skeletal fingers:
repellent to some,
yet exquisite to me, my fascination
with the enigma ravenous.
I listened to the monk’s story,
fantastical, but not filled
with excessive intensification.
He looked into my eyes,
his own moist,
steady but not defiant,
as he recounted the epic tale.
As the minutes ticked by,
I was filled with ecstasy:
this wasn’t a nefarious conman,
his story was not tainted
with planning and motives,
and, as I thanked him for his time,
I believed he really had seen
Meh-Teh, the yeti,
the abominable snowman –
call it what you will -
on a glacier, and, again,
in the snowy valley;
he had heard gunshots ricochet
and had later retrieved
the gruesome relics.
I would never quit searching…
Once is gust a knell,
Shuddered a colt
Shattered his mane athwart
His wafting soul a shaft of fear
Like a sprout!
Staggering in frisson
A gladiator, reined him in prison
His body, an etched pigeon
Under the lashing ribbon
Long time went on and on
As trained and brisk as Trojan
Until in one grim morn
He was left alone, forlorn.
Then, a shadow of hippogriff
Scratched his hoof so stiff,
Captured him by defeat.
Hey… my coy horse, an orphan,
Still flutter in this repellent
Lagoon, while Poseidon
Is himself drowned.
If you could see what wreaks havoc within my head
You’d just drop dead
Because it’s a little bit too weird for you
If you could read the words I wrote
They’d just get lodged in your throat
You’d choke
And since I'm too weird you probably wouldn't want me to save you
You see
My thoughts spill through an ink vein
And this paper kindly takes the pain
You may believe that I’m insane
But I just let my imagination reign
While your brain
Burdens the world with an ugly stain
But you're cool and I'm lame
I'm a no name
I’m a useless poet
And I damn sure know it
And I would show it
If your vulnerable heart could control it
I’m a useless poet
It's my only talent
It’s a friend repellent
And it’s damn elegant