soft
sparks
gone now
fade gently
encroaching twilight
meadow-whispers cradle their glow
night remembers their wanderings with wistful wonder
tiny lantern-souls drift upward, offering the darkness, their final trembling shimmer
summer grasses bow in reverence, holding the hush like a hymn, honoring each brief, bright life that stitched warm magic into the waiting air
we, the mourners of small miracles, gather their glimmers in our grieving palms, grateful for the tender radiance they gave the world, for the way their fleeting flames taught us to cherish each fragile flicker of luminous beauty.
Blossomings of bird bugs
Little red buds
Spotted sides
And shortlived glides
With a talent of finding thugs
AUTHORS NOTE
[A little Julia Donaldson tribute limerick!] - Faeren
some bunny loves these
long oval orange stix--carrots
what's up doc?
On my garage floor, the ants hold daily dance rehearsals~
tiny jitterbugs in helmets, warriors, fearless and universal.
I cannot remember in words
What we must have thought or said.
Surely we mused about 'why' and 'how',
But we were overwhelmed with the 'what'.
I suspect we had too much fun to care.
Some questions and answers don't matter
To kids when they are having a blast of fun.
Such was the case with lightning bugs.
The lights flew about in the dark country nights.
After decades of man-made bright city lights,
I have returned to where we saw insect lights
Roaming in the black of nights enriching our
Childhood years with wonder and delight.
Unfortunately, the bugs are no longer seen
Like so much of life that once upon a time
Was so very filled with joy and laughter,
Those thrilling nights with lightning bugs
Have been replaced by video games.
Fortunately, even when things and stuff take
Wings and fly away to the deep blue yonder,
Those childhood things so filled with mystery
And wonder will always be in our memories.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We caught it in a jar~
one pulse of gold in the dark,
a tiny lantern swinging
between our cupped hands.
Dad said make a wish,"
but the glass was already fogging,
its slow, suffocated glow
dulling to ember.
We unscrewed the lid at dawn,
found only the husk of light—
wings like charred paper,
a silence where the buzzing had been.
Now when the night thickens,
I leave the jars empty.
Some things are not meant
to be kept.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summer dusk descends~
tiny lanterns drift between
my cupped, patient hands.
One flickers gold against skin,
then slips free into the dark.
you may read the related memoir vignette at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/catching_lightning_bugs_13624
I wish I could throw chores in the trash.
I’ll have to go to school someday.
I can’t make my bed.
Brush my teeth either.
Until my teeth start clawing so much that I wake up.
Eat and do dishes.
Gives me flashbacks like I’m on the moon!
Wrung out like future spinning cycles of laundry.
School bothering me as if they are shoveling trash heaps on me.
It would be easier to throw away my shoes, clothes, and dishes.
Just like it’s easier to throw away:
Newspapers, apple cores, and empty bottles.
Some things hurt more than trash.
For three hours sitting worked well for me.
Almost catatonic, like lunch time and there’s a sandwich in front of me.
Tapping toes like a happy can of soda.
I’ll never get anything done like that again.
Like when I was a kid, and I got an allowance.
Well, I suppose…
The next time I wash dishes is coming soon.
And I promise it will be revealed to me someday.
fairy ring beckoned with fallen oaks the seat
she loosened blond hair for all elves to see
dancing in a circle around one rock deep
toadstools were there numerous with buzzing bees
owl hooted deep, arriving late afternoon
in distance farmhouse empty, sported balloons
spiders and grasshoppers smashed cymbals and drums
vineyard workers sleepily dreamily hummed
fat strawberries blood red on juicy offer
down she descended into a loamy hole
to examine nourishing cocoa coffers
then taste spiced cherry brandy alongside moles
her pink petalled dress became nastily soiled
she lost her wide crimson hat to earthworms coiled
tunnels were decorated with soft chestnuts
ladybugs slowly shopped for investment huts
below she found busy beetles, flora seeds
grey weevils digging into sour rotting leaves
roots of varying colours with buried beads
entangled were elf lovers like naughty thieves
teasingly were filled with the fruity brandy
many were heady drunk they became angry
she judiciously spotted coloured bangles
happily returned to own tree bespangled !
**
BITING RED
BUGS
Cruel
insect-like
bites…
sucking
and
spitting
out blood:
Today’s
p
o
l
i
t
i
c
s.
.
Acrobatic birds can dive energetically for glucose,
Even as the felines watch,
Waving their tailfeathers in the air,
To their perch, they add another notch.
Felines gain hope, inspiring jumpy keen longing,
The birds keep teasing the predators,
Flying lower as if doing the limbo,
Despite tempting fate, shunning grim reaper creditors.
Masterful nature offers perches quaintly, rightly spaced,
The birds take breaks from sweet drinks,
Fly lower, eating little leaf gnats,
Watching the cats snicker, as wingbeat winks.
Radiant songbirds travel ubiquitously, valiant warriors,
Beautiful as they fly, spreading song,
Despite teasing the cats on the ground,
A day without these creatures would feel too long.
I am afraid of bugs, but not because they’re creepy or squirmy
I fear bugs because they’re so tiny that when I hold their bodies
And feel their beautiful, vulnerable beating hearts
I’m afraid I’ll crush them
It would be so easy to squeeze and break them
Like I squished the little bug I used to be
What's up doc repeats Bugs Bunny
thinking he's being cute and funny
sounding like a wily parrot
while posing chewing on his carrot
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on August 14, 2025 for contest CARTOON CHARACTER CLERIHEW sponsored by TANIA KITCHIN - RANKED 2ND
Bugs Bunny loves his carrot snack,
He tricks his foes and never looks back.
“Eh, what’s up, doc?”—his teasing cue,
A clever rabbit who’s quick and shrewd too.
Poet’s Note:
Inspired by Bugs Bunny’s famous 1940 line, “Eh, what’s up, doc?”.
(\(\
(-.-)
o_(")(") Eh, what’s up, doc?
Bugs Bunny loves his carrot treat—
outsmarts his foes with swift, wily feet.
“eh, what’s up, doc?”—his cheeky call,
a clever bunny loved by all.
Poet’s Note:
Inspired by Bugs Bunny’s famous 1940 line, “Eh, what’s up, doc?”.
(\(\
(-.-)
o_(")(") Eh, what’s up, doc?
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