Crawly Poems

Autumn's Muse

Glints flashing, gloss on dew washed dawns
as sun dances in glowing flames
soft flow of light like graceful swans
autumn mist swells, playing her games

as sun dances in glowing flames
kindness prepares the voice of grace
autumn mist swells, playing her games
easing heartbreak time can’t erase

kindness prepares the voice of grace
secret faith mends melancholy
easing heartbreak time can’t erase
raising moods who’re creepy-crawly

secret faith mends melancholy
autumn stirs some semblance of hope
raising moods who’re creepy-crawly
pouring out love so hearts still cope

autumn stirs some semblance of hope
psalms of praise, written by bright leaves
pouring out love so hearts still cope
consider the season who greaves 

psalms of praise, written by bright leaves
soft flow of light like graceful swans
consider the season who greaves 
Glints flashing, gloss on dew washed dawns

Leggy Winds Disrupt Weather Girls

Longshanks drainpipe and whistle through the day.
pterodactyls got it easy in this wide-open sky,
they glide too far up to be real anymore.

The beady-eyed slinkers that wriggle under our plodding boots,
they also avoid the earthshaking heaviness of light sleepers.

Beyond the curtains, a plastic pelican
has got its bill and belly stuck on a satellite dish,
now we can only receive small-minded thoughts in a soup bowl.

Strong winds are disrupting sleep patterns,
static pictures can only take baby steps or crawly shuffles.

Leggy winds go out to play in front of green screens,
illusions, made to promote the good-looking and perky.

THE GRADIENT

Darwin's animal is writing poetry,
Nietzsche's Ubermensch is learning idolatry.

Cockroach won't leave early,
He will wait for the bread crumbs dearly.

The embezzler is talking riches,
His nightmares are all about witches.

"THE GRADIENT" decides, "THE GRADIENT" presides,
"THE GRADIENT" is the tradeoff which can suffice.

Come as you may, come as you will,
Come to the wrongdoer and make him pay the bill.

Yates , Elliot &  Ezra Pound are in talks with the devil,
Crawly has arranged rendezvous up the hill.

Poems have started rhyming,
But there is still no silver lining.

I want to go up the hill,
But the master won't agree to my will.

Mr. Frost is talking to me, he is asking me to tie the net,
And not to play tennis without a bet.

Giving Thanks

A stink bug has landed on my lips.
I am in and of the grass,
laying down
a living foundation.

Out of nowhere,
I think of my mother
and her hot Irish temper.

I swipe the oval brown insect away,
cursing all the irritating, and crawly,

then I doze.
I am a raised earthwork,
a forgiving quietude under the sun -

thank you mum.

Not As Picky As I Thought She Was

If I was hungry I would devour that creepy thing I think.
It is something tasty that crawled out of my sink
You don’t even know what it is my friend says.
She is persnickety and picky, my pal Inez.

Look at its legs, I reply. They look tickly tasty.
Not so fast! Says the crawler. Let’s not be hasty!
Inez says “I never eat food that speaks to me.”
“I will make an exception,” I say, “That thing is free.”

Inez is not as choosy as I thought that she was.
I begin bathing the sink creature, fluffing his fuzz.
"Wait!" the crawly thing says. “That brush is too short for me!”
The second I stop, he scuttles down the drain to flee.

In the Grass

What’s in the grass and what do I know?
There are creepy and freaky things below.

All sorts of insects and crawly creatures
are among grass’ most fearsome features.

I wonder what else is in the grass,
seeds and stems in a crevasse?

They sprout and spread en masse
creating a soft sinking morass.

I believe there are secrets we’ll never see
perhaps some magic that’s in its esprit.

Maybe a fairy goddess or two
to order the chaos amid the fescue.

Who directs traffic so there’s no collision?
Who wields the power for that decision?

What and when do they celebrate?
There must be one they adulate.

Whatever is there I leave to that realm.
I won’t interfere or overwhelm.

I’ll welcome fresh grass in the spring
and wonder more, at what it may bring.

Perfectly Good Coffee

perfectly good
coffee stint encroached upon
by creepy-crawly

2/22/2023

The Clearing

The way of man and the way of God:
the two are not the same.

For a man will see a forest,
and will create a clearing,
and hack out an existence,
denuding the land of life,
using the logs for his home,
tilling the ground to plant food,
and sit in front of his fire,
and eat his food,
and declare, “Life is good.”

But God will see a clearing,
and will invite the birds of the air
to cast their seeds where they may,
and invite the crawly things
to burrow and thrive,
and bring forth the rains for drink,
and the sunshine for warmth,
and declare, “It was very good already.”

----------

for the The Clearing Poetry Contest
sponsored by Craig Cornish
written on 02/10/23

Demons Roam Free

Descending on this night, a foul
darkness falls like the Reaper's cowl.
And shadows conceal the undead,
instilling the living with dread.

On Halloween, demons roam free,
while ghosts go on a haunting spree.
And ghouls claw their way out of graves 
as walking dead and zombie slaves.

As their silhouettes stalk the gloom,
black cats and witches share a broom.
And while vampires morph into bats, 
Jack-o'-lanterns get gnawed by rats.

Werewolves howl, snarl, yelp, and grunt,
evil's on the prowl, on the hunt.
And Hell opens on unhallowed ground,
where creepy crawly things abound.

Butterfly

BUTTERFLY IN TUTU

Butterfly in tutu, deliriously delusional, bright
with spangles, tapping her wings.  All knew
she was cocky with glorified golden teeth.

She followed the cockamamie caterpillar 
with his root-tootie-toot-toot flute. Thoughts
of mopping up this contest after that

creepy-crawly performance. Her tutu, in
and out, in and out. Her wings of grace
up and down, up and down impeccable.

but the Operettes were up next - they were stars!
Dusk dimmed butterfly’s oscaring, dark
and darker, the glare of stars fell. The iridescent 

tutu turned black, she stubbed her wings,
she spun out and crashed, and the audience
laughed……………………instead of hiding

                         she took a bow

                             12/23/2021
                              “B” Forms
             Sponsor: Constance La France

Formica Rufa

.... crawl across
the garden path covered with moss.
Creepy-crawly, completely black.
They dash off there and soon are back.
I was intrigued. Then during night,
from a deep sleep I woke in fright, 
for I was trapped in dreadful dream, 
in which I was Formica queen. 

I woke this morn, saw things amiss. 
It was my metamorphosis. 
Now I've abdomen and thorax 
where my head and six legs attach. 
I live in a dark earthy mound, 
in secret cell, all day confined, 
where there it is my task to lay
Formica rufa eggs all day.

Caring Twin

The sun slipped back his bag and yawned
A day for today was gone
And into the sea he took a plunge
Splashing the sky in colours
The stars arrived seconds later
They were scattered all across
They gossiped, talked and took a swirl
Sparkled in the speck of the giant blue wall
And slowly the blue seeped in its arms the grey
Until black spread like the roots of the sprouting weeds
Unstoppable, flying around setting a blotch, 
Wherever it set it's crawly feet. 
The stars worried, little foot soldiers
And trembled and trembled to twinkle brighter
And wherever they sparkled they tore the dark
In pieces, specks and sparks
Until she walked in around the haze of her cloud
A sweet pearly lustre trailed loud
She walked and embraced the dark
And wherever she touched the bright lurked
A round full face smiling bright
Like a mother cradling her child
A little pale at the edges but oh her beautiful eyes
To some she reminded the lover in dream
To the nocturnal world she is the sublime queen
And to her exhausted yellow brother, the caring twin.

Morning's Broken Armor

Morning’s Broken Armor
by Sy Roth

 
Squeaky crawls the moon’s light

Falling briskly against the chinks in the window

Uneasy sleep

A voluble accompaniment to

An out-of-work cello.

 

Scooting, crawly insects beat against it

With a frenzy of scrawled brevity

Tattooed on its soft shell.

 

Horns bleat somewhere in the inky distance.

Town criers bellowing news to a somnolent brain.

 

Alternatives roll away from eyes

Cemented closed with a.m.’s dream glue

And the clinkety-clank of Sir Gawain’s armor

Makes its way into the room.

Declaring additional valid seconds

Feet flopping like pimpled pancakes ready for turning

To the cold floor

The morn ready to mourn another day.

Afraid - He Is the Way

Afraid of dying… He holds the keys to heaven
Afraid of losing – a job, a home, a heart…
Remember He is always with you, comforting, 
Reassuring and reminding you of your blessings
Afraid of creepy, crawly creatures… His rest
Calms and caresses the soul who knows Him
Afraid of fire and hell – salvation lifts the heart
Afraid of the dark – remember He is the light
Brighter than the noonday sun in the heat of the day
Afraid of blindness, living in pain, being in agony…
Remember He comforts the heart in distress
And gives support in old age, to the end of the age

Afraid? – Remember He is there with you
Always kind, reassuring and edifying
Always a light to guide you through the night
Brighter than any star gleaming quietly
And stronger than any sun in hues of silent dreams

Afraid? – Listen Up! He is there, no farther away
Than a simple prayer – asking for His grace – through faith

Afraid?... He is the way!

Creature In You

The creature in you -
Is as a creepy crawly
Crawling, creepy and slaying all

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