Insect Poems | Examples of Insect Poetry

Does God mourn for every ant that was crushed before it was able to carry its own weight?...

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I saw them in the corner Like brain pieces on the wall, Climbing to my ceiling, Loud and stinking with blood. I can hear them crawling Inside my moldy walls, Slow and steady Like the movement of organs....

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butterflies and bees pollinating the flowers spreading new beauty ...

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I see words, and they see me It’s true they are sentient, quite But they will never see the light of my world through my loins They keep floating by, ever speaking never ceasing like tinnitus in my transcendent sight Like orphans from somewhere never Their little fingers grope as they look at me squarely Speaking barely, “bring me...

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headstrong Bogong moths find their mountains far away ~ star gazing gurus...

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LIGHT UP THE LANTERNE Poetry Contest/ Nette Onclaud/June 18, 2025 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ flies near by ...

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Squawk! Beetle in your follicles. Angry molecules. I want bugs everywhere! Haha! Please share! It’s just a barrette? Regret! Regret! But I still want to flail. Howling quail. Beetle on my mind. To find. Fix your hair, girl. Beetle in the curl. ...

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blackfly season on nature trails best feeding ground ~ smorgasbord delight...

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u y m m h a ...

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Lose antennae? I’m a beetle! Not one bug in Aleghenny (at least, none you’ll ever meet’ll) lose antennae. Luck with chicks? I won’t have any! Directionless, centripetal, wireless wimps are ten a penny! What now? Curl up? Adopt the foetal position? Move to Kilkenny? No proud pest in any street’ll lose antennae. ...

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with the monsoon rains, a green June bug came whirring, to our living room~ my smart cat after playing, gulped down this hapless victim. ...

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Butterless flies flutter by and dragons without fire fly. Over and under, curious wonder. Nature’s tricks do mystify....

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awful offal cricket brisket forage porridge gobbler cobbler boozy smoothie ...

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TWO MEASURES OF KINDNESS While removing the tick from my forehead, Granny sang a hymn in a low, sweet voice. I watched her lovely face, not the burning match. Before the hymn ended, she’d removed the tick I thought I’d die from. I can’t remember the song, but hear her voice still, a well of crystal, clear water, a prayer. I remember her hands, two...

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June Bug, do you remember me? Understand, I'm older now, you see. No longer do I visit Grandpa with my brothers. Every fourth of July, you too, came with many others. Both of us came to play - beneath the fireworks display. United again, I recall you never flew so well. Give us another fourth, and we will give 'em hell....

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