Best Wasps Poems
The wasps are back
in full force
commandeering my porch
They do this yearly
They buzz my ears
terrorizing me
trying to chase me back into the house
so they can have the porch for themselves
I paid for the porch
not completely, but I am still paying for it.
not the wasps
I look at the can of wasp spray
which two of the wasps are examining
One on each side
They are possibly
much more intelligent than I.
jostling in the garden
bees and wasps compete
for the flower's favours
perched on a petal
butterfly uncoils its tube
then injects the flower
a gust of wind
the dried leaf leaps up
and dances in the air
(Spring) The Benefit Of Wasps
Spring is Fridays
nine O'clock gulump
of cool beer
fresh blue jeans
promises of pleasure, .
buds on a twig
trembling soft air –
first touch of loves
fingertip on flesh.
torture of anticipation
ecstasy and hum
diamond green
and magic moonlight
painting on silver.
A song birds damp breath
a warmth of
Saturday morning bedding
Mmmmm of
stretching limbs
warm fruit in azure skies
late night thunderstorms.
shifting shadows
filled with a child's voice
dandelions that smile
hot tea, sugar crystals
sprinkled on stone
for the benefit of wasps
...And all of this
before leaves roll over
like woollen shawls
on bony brittle shoulders
...and all of this.
before spring
will come again
Serious intent to read
latest issue of TIME magazine
found attention pleasantly distracted,
when I became keenly aware
of flora and fauna bursting,
blooming, buzzing, and twittering
oblivious to yours truly sitting stock still
in folding lawn chair
marveling at each budding
natural born architect and engineer
each respective constituent
living organism engrossed
delicate as deft potters crafting chinaware
observing good and
plenti hive nesting reverential species
trumpeting suave and donning debonair
without any pretentious fanfare
merely obedient to genetic coded wear,
exclusive domain glorified, ordained,
and sanctified by divine imprimatur
contemplating if despair
experienced by coterie of biosphere
not including *****sapiens,
and/or aghast that their extinction
dooms them to disappear,
which undeserved fate unfair
for innocent animals and plants
critically contributing as
unique vital gadgeteer
linkedin to significant role
evolution indiscriminately licensed
met with preserved concord, versus mutineer
extant among bipedal hominids
each and every simian forebear
generally recent primate ancestors,
whose short lifespans predated medicare,
but more particularly modern man/woman,
who flagrantly extracted precious
minerals, plundered mountains,
usurped possibly, sans sadling muleteer
and/or forced chaingang extruded
raw materials to concoct wear
able, munitions, disposable,
and most importantly
deadly ordnance for bloody warfare,
never quenching thirst for mortal Kombat,
nor scooping up riches galore,
no matter wealthy status equals bajillionaire!
Ted is a novice when skating on ice
Kept slipping and falling twenty times twice
Body shattered and battered
And his teeth were all scattered
Prayed the tooth fairy will give a good price
Soups and soft food is all he can now eat
But he fancied something that is more sweet
Poured treacle in a large cup
Then quickly drank it all up
Feeling sick, vowed he would never repeat
He felt very hot and started to fret
From every pore he was pouring with sweat
He went outside to cool down
Some wasps where flying around
And saw his body as a sweet object
He screamed loudly, hollered, blubbered and cried
As the wasps were all stinging him with pride
His body grossly swollen
And dignity now stolen
Wished instead gone for a horse and cart ride
14.09.23
A gentle droning fills the officers’ club
Here come the wasps, someone says
A silence fills where conversations were
Some of the officers walk to the windows
To gawk at the new WASPS
Aristophanes, my favourite Attic writer,
When he had pen in hand, was a fighter
Politics and poetics: his precious topics
I know not politics, he loved but poetics
Aristophanes, my favourite Attic writer,
Clung this man to clouds I know tighter
For his Clouds disperse all our doubts
But his Birds shroud my eyes with clouds
Aristophanes, my favourite Attic writer,
Men by his pen fly so sky high lighter
His Frogs I hear, Brekakekex croak, croak
My nose now tickles for his Wasps - poke
Jan. 17, 2021 (Originally posted on Dec. 16, 2020)
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (43)any form any theme Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: Brian Strand
Many yellow wasps
Attacked my younger brother
When he was busy
In trimming a branch of tree
Where they built their little hive!
on a sunny shiny day sitting outside in the garden
sipping nectar on a chair at a round outdoor table on the lawn
with my mom, someone else becomes interested in me
I'm only 3 and Fuzzy is my best friend
a stuffed platypus her companionship I didn't want to end
the sweetness of my lips was what attracted my new enemy
he berrated me and I used my hands said "go away"
he continued to persue my soft and juicy lips
when I hit he stung me and I cried
mother started laughing as I sobbed
I didnt understand why she and him were being cruel
until she led me to a mirror and I looked just like
a duck billed platypus
Late afternoon October 15th, 2022
a spring like day
witnessed nature in surround sound,
whereby reflection spurred
reminiscence about similar weather
a few years ago when...
Serious intent to read
latest issue of TIME magazine
found attention pleasantly distracted,
when I became keenly aware
of flora and fauna bursting,
blooming, buzzing, and twittering
oblivious to yours truly sitting stock still
in folding lawn chair
marveling at each budding
natural born architect and engineer
each respective constituent
living organism engrossed
delicate as deft potters crafting chinaware
observing good and
plenti hive nesting reverential species
trumpeting suave and donning debonair
without any pretentious fanfare
merely obedient to genetic coded wear,
exclusive domain glorified, ordained,
and sanctified by divine imprimatur
contemplating if despair
experienced by coterie of biosphere
not including *****sapiens,
and/or aghast that their extinction
dooms them to disappear,
which undeserved fate unfair
for innocent animals and plants
critically contributing as
unique vital gadgeteer
linkedin to significant role
evolution indiscriminately licensed
met with preserved concord, versus mutineer
extant among bipedal hominids
each and every simian forebear
generally recent primate ancestors,
whose short lifespans predated medicare,
but more particularly modern man/woman,
who flagrantly extracted precious
minerals, plundered mountains,
usurped possibly, sans sadling muleteer
and/or forced chaingang extruded
raw materials to concoct wear
able, munitions, disposable,
and most importantly
deadly ordnance for bloody warfare,
never quenching thirst for mortal Kombat,
nor scooping up riches galore,
no matter wealthy status equals bajillionaire!
On the lush meadow
Serene ostrichs rest
Towering it with vigilance
Rheas they seem from distance
Indulging in sweet silence
Counting evey single chick
Huddled under their wide wings
Abdicating as everyone learns survival
Nurturing them with keenness
Demolishing parental worries
Warning them of stinging wasps
Always looking for new victims
Surrounding them with loud buzzing
Pugnacious and vicious as bulldogs
slayers they surely are
dry lavender blooms
pruning season underway...
painful paper-wasp
09.02.21
What a snazzy dinner jacket you have Mr. Wasp.
He was flattered I think, this powerful boss.
Men are rarely confident enough to wear flowers I said.
And your amazing vest is striped, black, yellow and red.
You are dapper and distinguished I told the insect.
He was ready for white gloves, and a gentle inspect.
Skinny miniature dive bombers commandeered my porch today.
Their command center is in the hollows of my porch’s railings.
I watch them wasp-stepping in formation
around on a tiny wooden table that holds two cans of wasp spray.
Now they are parading around the side of one of the green spray cans.
Taunting me with their arrogance.
Between the front door and me.
Wasps five. Me zero.
One Does not forget
The yellow and black
Stomping under foot
in the woods
I look back
Running on a pre school walk
Stumbling into honey bees
Wandering amongst the trees
I am stung and yet un-sung
Singing before swear words began
Now, lounging with wet milk on
my lips in more cautious sun shine
I crush those who wish me harm
for we are both afraid.
This poem has not ended yet
I go back and find the wasp again
I crushed and yet I find it breathing
A soul afraid in pain
as I crush it again
this time in sympathy
I cry for hurting you