Meandering my garden one day I was shocked,
to see caterpillars crawling all over my parsley plants,
and as though that was not enough they found my dill too,
and they were not just crawling ... they were chomping away.
Quickly, six caterpillars were eating my parsley,
and were working on my dill plants right beside it,
as I was trying to look up on the internet what to do,
anyways, what happened next was like a mass murder spree.
Now, I do not believe or tolerate violence,
but nature can be cruel and have no conscious,
because mother bird saw those six fat caterpillars,
'cause they were not hiding and she picked one up to fly away.
Coming back over and over and over, and over,
'til not a single caterpillar remained on parsley or dill,
I was somewhat sad, somewhat relieved, sort of shocked,
problem solved, parsley and dill have revived and doing well.
Anyways, although I know they turn into pretty butterflies,
they were creepy green striped worms crawling on my green leaves.
The end.
They love the leaves—the butterflies,
mulberry for their eggs,
a home and caterpillars' feast,
where adults rest their legs.
Their beauty drawn—the butterflies,
mulberry for their dance,
where beauty mirrors beauty well,
even with fleeting glance.
With weather harsh—the butterflies,
mulberry their shelter,
through chilling winds or blazing heat,
no flight helter-skelter.
When hunger strikes—the butterflies,
mulberry their nectar,
for food, for strength, for energy,
their nose, their detector.
For friendship’s call—the butterflies,
mulberry, their best friend,
in loyalty and harmony,
a bond that will not bend.
If I’m ever filled with dread…feelings of gloom and doom….
I look for new leaves on the trees…and flowers about to bloom.
I greet the stars up in the sky…watch the sun rise on a new day…
I stop and watch baby rabbits in the field as they play.
I listen to the baby birds in their nests…not quite ready to fly free…
I look out on the water and find baby dolphins in the sea.
This time of year in Florida…I like to walk real slow…
and greet the caterpillars and baby lizards everywhere I go.
Why is this important…because in the way it helps me cope.
It reminds me how Mother Nature has not lost her hope.
If she wasn’t filled with hope…if she was filled with gloom and doom
she wouldn’t encourage her trees to grow new leaves…
or invite her flowers to bloom.
She wouldn’t excite the birds to sing…
or inspire the stars to shine up in the sky…
and if Mother Nature places her hope in caterpillars and baby lizards
then, Gook Heavens, so will I.
The lovely butterfly; exquisite small body and colourful wings
An insect of angelic nature, which the summer brings.
To the landscape it provides its majestic presence
Visiting leaves where it often clings.
He sees that butterfly, on that leaf
It sits for a moment, its stay but brief.
Purpose to him, quite unknown
A giver, a taker, perhaps a thief?
Curiosity leads him to examine the leaves
White specks is what he perceives.
He first wonders what those might be
Then concludes the inevitable, which he believes.
Days later, leaves of that plant in a terrible state
The culprits, the caterpillars, which evidence does indicate.
He curses in anger, and creates a plan
With revenge on his mind, clear now the insects’ fate.
I watched a little caterpillar
walking up a tree
and wondered how
that worm would look
if he were dressed like me.
I think his mother would complain
if she had shoes to buy,
cause by the time she tied them all
he’d be a butterfly!
Graceful butterflies
flutter about my garden
sipping droplets of nectar
from favored flowers,
caterpillars in costume;
they're uniquely beautiful.
SMALL RABBITS SWIMS WITH CATERPILLARS--- A Haiku
running game hillside
a little, small rabbits swims
a caterpillars
4/22/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
There are caterpillars in my chest just waiting to turn into butterflies the moment your lips first touch mine
They said that she was ugly, fat, and shy.
She went her way to shameful words and sneers.
Ignored or worse by those who passed her by,
She'd weep the dew each night with all her tears.
The caterpillar, few have understood.
In every garden scorned and undesired
Until such time she reaches womanhood.
Then by all men she's suddenly admired.
The dress she wears so colorful and slim.
Her freckled skin now silky, fair, and smooth.
Her every movement, elegant and prim,
But still she bears the cruelness of her youth.
And when she flits so daintily our way
Perhaps that's why she never deems to stay.
9.2.18
Contest 1: Personification poem of a pet, wild animal or insect (N/A)
Contest 2: Brian Stand contest #490 (N/A)
Looking beyond our differences,
the image deepened
Speaking without words,
the conversation spiked
Touching without holding on,
all feelings turned to ecstasy
Loving while letting go,
—the caterpillars delight
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
The suitable ramblings of a plate of acorn and carrots to a listening ear of a squirrel squire is very very good news for a bed of voltaic leaves.Vehemently described by a small stone to be akin to radio station chattering. Babbling brook then. Oh good. Oh how one must look in amazement at the many radishes who arrive in uniform with badges. Clanking a clicking. Clocking a clinger. Danger is in the harbours where resides a 8000 long lobster. Whose antics are unpleasant and displease the many ships of cakes floating upon the waves. Juniper is Jupiter. And juvenile crimes of a pile of mud is an archaically archived delivery. How quite pleased is a 67 metres of a sky. Bus building baking breathing breastplate boomerangs breadsticks bang. And in a Penang architecture is often quite outstanding. Far freezer freeing fakes formations. Was washing wasting waiting willing wildly wildlife. And look there is a tiny two inch caterpillar many legs many boots many miles many many moons. Ha hmm xx Stupefaction *** z .
Magic
advice on
keeping her temper
sees Alice experimenting with
mushrooms
Mid-spring, skinny, black, blind
eastern tent caterpillars -
Malacosoma americanum -
falling from the cherry tree
leaning, human, over our deck.
Irksome. Mash and kick
them with my feet, continue
practicing or reading.
Three weeks later, reading
late at night. Heavy-bodied
black-eyed, reflexed antennae -
many hundreds of moths
crave the lamplight, some attaining
extinction through cracks
around the window screen. Vexing.
Until next morning, I look
up the name that has eluded me
all spring and early summer.
The single-minded moth and larval colony -
one small monophony.
Caterpillars creeping and crawling
Along the forest floor
Seeking hidden treasures from
Centuries before
Covered in extravagant velvety moss
And beneath earthen engraved rocks
Hidden treasures galore!
Written by Gwendolen Rix
6-9-14
(Inspired by the Holy Spirit)
Someone decides
And then terminates
The colorful catepillars, feeding
On the lovely, little flowers.
No one stopped to ask
The flowers, if their wish
Was to live for appreciation
Or, die for metamorphosis.
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