Long Mosquito Poems
Long Mosquito Poems. Below are the most popular long Mosquito by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mosquito poems by poem length and keyword.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
there are seven birds that I often get to see
as I walk on the tracks in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
A Whipbird crack through ti-tree scrub,
a Lyrebird echo from Cascade Creek,
Red Browed Finch on the sword grass heads,
I’m watching close a Ground Thrush sneak.
Black Cockies feed on Blackwood wattle,
in heath Blue Wrens are a family,
Yellow Robins perch on a paperbark trunk
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
are seven mammals sometimes I get to see,
as I walk on the tracks in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
Echidnas forage in wood or litter
Wallabies graze on grass and weeds,
a burrowing wombat sleeps all day;
high in a manna gum, a Koala feeds.
Sugar Gliders doze in a hollow log,
like Ring-tail Possums in a high ti-tree.
A Bandicoot scarps through the undergrowth
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
in Cascade Creek sometimes I get to see,
as I look at the water in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
Flowing over sand, fishbone fern as cover,
lurk Blackfish and the Gippsland Cray.
Brown trout forage in the hiding place
where Mountain Galaxias are their prey.
In Cascade Creek; well the Platypus play,
in long deep holes, but are rare to see.
There’s Short Finned Eel, Yabbies and Shrimp,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
are a few reptiles I sometimes get to see,
if I look down at my feet in pristine forestry,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
There are Blue Tongue Lizards and Three Lined Skinks;
Goanna’s up a tree and the Tiger Snake.
There’s Copperheads or Red-bellied Black,
and treading on snakes is a big mistake.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
Growling Grass Frogs watch from water grass,
And the ‘pobblebonk’ croak is an Eastern Banjo,
in a swampy pool as I walk on past.
Skippers float over the canopy blooms;
Mosquito, March Fly, Bush Fly blight;
Jezebel Caterpillars feed on mistletoe;
Stag Beetles hover in the fading light.
In one square mile, northeast of Noojee,
on walking tracks there is much to see,
where I’m just a link that don’t belong,
in one square mile, northeast of Noojee.
Zika Virus What Next
It is officially announced, there is a global health emergency...
World Health Organisation (WHO) has just issued this health warning...
The rapid spread of the Zika Virus is an international public health emergency..
From its first outbreak was detected in Brazil in May last year...
This mosquito borne disease now threatens in more than 20 countries....
Latest to join the strickened Latin American countries are Costa Rica and Jamaica.
The science behind the global outbreak of this disease is of much concern...
For the Zika Virus was first encountered in a rhesus macaque monkey in Uganda..
It is very worrisome, for this disease has jumped from animals to humans...
The rapid spread was in part due to the lack of immunity in our species...
It is after all a virus that profilerated before only in the monkey species....
Its drastic spread in the Latin Americans now necessitates travel advisories...
Once afflicted, a human victim suffers 2-7 days of low grade fever, joint pains..
No fatalities yet, but symptomatic patients suffers a facial rash that spreads ...
Diagnosis is tricky, its symptons easily confused with other mosquito diseases...
But the greatest danger is threat of brain damage and microcephaly in new born babies...
And the spread of the virus through sexual contact and the blood stream is for real...
Prevention is better than cure, so is precaution before things get out of hand..
The common denominator in the rapid widespread of this scourge is a pesky insect...
One tiny little hellish insect with little wings that stridently brings victims into contact...
A little nip from an infected insect, the Zika virus is introduced into the victim's blood stream..
This dangerous little pesky insect is none other than the common mosquito...
To be specific it is the tiger stripped and blood thirsty Aedes mosquito...
Prevalently found in early morning hours and in the late afternoon daylight hours ...
Get the bug spray, the insect repellant and out with the electric killer bat...
Do whatever it takes, so long you escape from the irritating mosquito bites..
Kill the Aedes mosquitoes, and save yourself from Zika, dengue or chingkunya virus...
http://www.webmd.com/news/20160203/zika-microcephaly-link
http://www.futurity.org/zika-microcephaly-1115772-2/
I thought poetry is
-name of Mesopotamia which was the first civilization to emerge in human history
-ancient cave peoples surviving life struggle
I thought poetry is
-an immortal love story of Yousuf- Zulekha, Shirin-Farhad, Laila-Majnu or Romeo-Juliet
-a telephonic or open love conversation of smiling postmodern girls
-drying wet colorful clothes of beloved in the courtyard of the house
-haring of beloved with tuberose garland before a mirror
I thought poetry is
-lizards chirping from the deserted house; cockroach flying
-quarrelsome cats in the black dark or barking dogs
-the struggle of mosquito for human blood
-traveling of the arrogant indecent animals all over the night
I thought poetry is
-thrilling venturous ghostly stories of J. K. Rowling
-self-expression of known-unknown writers
-unspoken tale of a war-wounded soldier
-the regret of the thousands of dead soldiers
-the unwritten fantasy of an isolated poet
-the lonely guitar or ektara of dead singers
I thought poetry is
-without reel tie an independent flying of a kite in the sky
-in the blue sky sovereign flapping of birds
-movement of invisible winds everywhere
-hearing story of fairytale crossing of green forest
I thought poetry is
-handmade airing of newly married girl to a new groom in lunch time
-dyed hands of nubile girls by mehndi,
-captivating sounds of jingling anklet and kamarband of dancing damsels
I thought poetry is
-classic music of Pandit Ravi Shankar
-immortal tune of Ustad Bismillah Khan's shehnai
-compilation of humanitarian lyrics of the legend Bob Marley
-heart touching reciting of the Holy Quran of Qari Abdul Basit
I thought poetry is
-unforgettable philosophical discussion of Socrates with his disciples
-the philosophic lineage of learning such as Socrates-Plato-Aristotle
-immortal scientific creations of Newton, Galileo, Einstein, Nikola Tesla, Hawking
I thought poetry is
-unremitting prayer or worship of any prevailed religion devotee to get heaven
-inhuman history of bombing on the Hiroshima and Nagasaki or brutality of 1st or 2nd World War
These all are just my thinking,
my thinking is free
on my path
but poetry is poetry,
more than any thinking, many more;
on its path
Poetry is independent fully
-June 27, 2019 Chattogram
Mosquito Bat
Peering closely, I sought to quickly skim through the online latest news …
True to form, I am a stickler for keeping up with the latest happening news…
Given this internet age and its borderless media reach, there’s always something…
So much to read, so much to keep up to date, just so one’ll be a better man for reading…
Then it happened, even as I was about to scroll the displayed page with the mouse button..
There came a familiar high pitched whine, softly at first but intensifying as its source approaches…
Christ! A blasted mosquito, high tailing in my direction, to my right pinky ear, to be precise…
I froze all motion, rolled and strained my eyeball to squint out of the corner of my right eye…
I saw, at the periphery of my field of vision, the fast approaching obnoxious blood sucker…
Silvery wings furiously beating as it made a bee line to my ear, a beacon for a typical bloody dinner…
Cautiously yet sparing no delay, I reached out for my trusty rechargeable electric mosquito bat…
The offending insect was just about to land, circling in ever tightening circles as I grasped my bat…
Bat upraised in hand, I did a quick head swivel , the dastardly insect was now plain in my sight …
Ah ha, now you are my victim, you stupid little insect! I gloated inwardly as I eyeballed the insect..
Dinner lost, the sudden shift in air movement must have warned this bloodthirsty sucker…
There was a quick change in its flight pattern, it tried to fly out of my vision, tried to flee from danger …
Here, eat this, you bloody miserable ungodly insect! Unhurriedly, almost leisurely, I waved my bat…
Right across the flying path of the fleeing little insect, there was no escape for such was its fate…
A sharp crackle and a quick spark of light, the poor mosquito was no more, no longer in sight…
A plume of whitish smoke, an acrid smell of burnt organic material, yup it was no more alright…
Mentally, I blew across the end of my smoking gun barrel like any swashbuckling vigilante..
Gee, what a lethal combination, me and this rechargeable electric mosquito bat each day…
Got to get a spare, just in case, like my daddy used to say, get ready for a rainy day…
An electric mosquito bat, dear readers, it is a must- have gadget to get, to keep up to date........
Mosquitoes Please Beware
With an audible snort of disgust,
I pushed back this chair of mine...
In my head, I angrily exclaimed...
Oh, no! Mosquitoes, they are at it again..
Dreaded mosquitoes, they make my life miserable..
Incessant buzzing and painful bites are inseparable...
I bent forward and low in this chair,
Swept my eagle eyes left and right...
Hoping to sight that obnoxious insect...
Daring it to fly into my area of sight...
Both my palms are opened and poised for action,
Eyes radar sighted onto the insect's flying position...
With the patience of Job from the Old Testament...
I waited patiently, eyes peeled and ears well tuned..
Where is that buzz, the flying sounds I know so well...
There! Out of the corner of my eye, I spied its flight...
I trained beady eyes hungrily on its ziggedy flight...
There is no way it is getting out of my sight...
In my mind I relish the thought of squishing this insect...
Slapping it dead within my palms is only the first step...
Mentally I drool as I imagined my feelings when I get to crush...
This nasty insect which is about to meet its doom in a rush...
A little closer, my lovely six legged friend with gossamer wings...
I'm sorry but I am the Maker your trouble making brings you in...
Smash! What an almighty clap of my palms in your honour...
My palms, they sting, they smart but that does not matter....
I opened my palms in jubilation, I have taken drastic action...
But what is this, both my open palms they are in spotless condition...
Woe is me! My almighty slap, that mother of all slaps, was in vain...
By some miscarriage of justice, this mosquito escapes to torment again...
Here it comes, gossamer wings blurring as it flies shrilly into sight...
Daring me, challenging me, inviting me to again kill it in its merry flight...
Involuntarily, my nostrils flared as again I snorted my disgust...
Bent over in my chair, crouched low as once again I lay in wait...
Fervently I uttered a silent prayer of deliverance from this flying evil...
As once again with the patience of Job I waited to pulverish this evil...
Fly hither, fly thither, fly merrily, fly unerringly into my sight if your dare...
Better warn your brethen, bloodthirsty fiends they are, please BEWARE!
There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.
The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees lean in from the edge
creating a haven in the shelter below
for smelt or gudgeon, and the common minnow.
There’s a ring on the water, so danger is nigh,
and life is now over for one caddis fly.
Dragonflies hover on their predator flight,
so mosquito and midges best keep out of sight.
There is many a song around a billabong
to break up the still with an assembly throng
from birds of the forest, and wading birds too,
so the billabong offer is there to pursue...
... for blue heron and egret, coot and the teal,
and for the banded rail that the bulrush conceal.
In the billabong shadowed by gum and ti-tree,
bellbirds are tinkling; wattlebirds disagree.
An oft-diving grebe keeps on searching for food
for the striped downy chicks of its latest brood,
and a hunting kingfisher waits keen for its prey
from a twig of a gum tree it frequents all day.
There is many a scent around a billabong,
filling the air with the perfume quite strong,
from black wattle and mint bush, or mistletoe
cascading from gum trees where only they grow.
Painted lady butterfly flit upon flowers,
and blue banded bees keep on working for hours
on lilies and orchids, heath, sweet appleberry
and clusters of flowers on a native cherry.
Ribbon weed, nardoo spread out in the shallow,
with buttercup, duckweed; an introduced mallow,
struggling for survival near the water line,
aiding coral pea that does lightly entwine.
The banks of a billabong are dangerous too
with predator snakes not so often in view,
but they are aware, that the growling grass frog
will climb from the water onto an old log.
But tigers and copperhead, red-bellied black
often lay in the sun on an overgrown track,
where the wombat or wallaby travel along
to graze on native grasses near the billabong.
So life still carries on around the billabong
where water looks stagnant, a bond is still strong
with a river now rushing it’s way to the sea,
past the billabong living, where the course used to be.
Deep pain bores into scalp as eyelids struggle to open;
Glaring sun menaces eyes as they face the sky boldly.
First thought dawns on me like elixir; I'm alive!
The vast blue sky seems to smile upon my spirit holy.
Hands try to grasp hot sand as I wade to turn on stomach.
Pitiless grains escape between my fingers, mockingly.
In tremendous effort, I crawl to nearest patch of shade.
My heart pumps heavily while sweat oozes out profusely.
Images flash; I'm pushed off yacht by lover unfaithful.
Mock inability to swim; I acted it wisely.
His satisfied grin is all I could see before diving.
Skills of past champion revived, I swam courageously.
This virgin island, is haven to me now;
Life's strong in me! Branches I shove away, decisively.
Cautious exploration; Travelers trees welcome me.
With stick sharp I poke at it, water flows abundantly!
I do drink to my content and refresh myself while hares
jump around; I whisper to them and one stops daringly.
"Angel" I mumble as I follow it; on water melon I stumble.
Food! Hit with stone; humid sweet red flesh to wolf greedily.
Twigs, I gather and "SOS" I draw on the white expanse.
Angel from hole, under branched tree, beckons me temptingly.
A red bird hovers; branches dry and green, some Ravenala leaves,
enough to give me most desired tree lodge, marvelously.
"Now, some thorough exploration." Angel nods approval.
Disgust filled heart softens and I long to hug her fondly.
On other side of island, I land in a rocky area.
Good heaven! Rainwater is trapped in a pond; so lovely.
The sun sets the direction and I venture inland.
Swarm of mosquitoes invade my burnt skin, voraciously.
I run like a mad to land among wild peppermint.
No mosquito here…repellent herbs! I deduce quickly.
Handfuls I pluck, to rub on my body at night.
My watermelon shell, now dry, serves me efficiently.
Pipik, my red bird and Angel watch "friends, how to light this tinder nest?"
Eureka! here, my heart shaped glass pendant gleams suddenly.
Settled nearly for a week now, hope never leaves me.. I'm to live!
2/02/17
2nd and 4th line of each quatrain has 14 syllable.
(checked on howmanysyllable.com)
Placed 4th on 6 winners (judged 7/02/17) Tropical Island by Shadow Hamilton
Quick bold drums start out loud
Pounding out the terms of war
Race through the frantic jungle thick
Rhythms of pursuit take to the beat
Let the chase begin with heart in mouth
Track down the sun burnt frantic man
Stripped naked by his captives
They pushed him into foliage of the doomed
Now running through entanglements
Strangled in the vines for ancient crimes
Hate has no boundaries when not of the clan
Primal blood can not be satiated
Carbon men shoot long arrows, cannon fire from the camp
Small dark people with evil minds advance
Send the prey into unkind environments
To grounds and undergrowth with shouts
Demise looms on horizons mist for him
Already tortured from the womb
On pounding feet he bleeds while pressing through
In strange surroundings with open wounds
Shots ring out after the enemy make the naked prey
Lay eyes on him in day light with pure hate
Follow every footfall falling on the ground
The ugly trees take a couple of hits
Splinters fly out, shatter living wood, as their demise is sure
Old riffles and loaded guns come with the hunters
Limited only by so many bullets screaming through the trees
To kill their prey, to bring the head back intact
Numbers don't lie. Momentum is on their side
Why the man has gone missing is a mystery
A cause for strain with sweat and grimace
Small men with evil minds intent become confused
Bugs gather around the fugitive
Make configurations for a meal
Moving keeps him from them and their appetite
He runs in heat with fear and heavy lungs
Filled with humidity he breaths no peace
Keeping quiet requires concentration
The wind must cease to speak for silence
Hiding is a science
Snakes want more than the mosquito
No time to turn about or study wings or feet-less creatures
Insects survive by flying from disaster
He follows them into the swamp
Lives under water for awhile
A long hollow reed for breathing
Comfortable for a time with larva breeding
Tickling his frail and fragile body
There is nothing wrong with wanting to survive
Life, like bullets, fly by
(do enjoy frolicking gently imaginatively)
County seat, of Mason County,
Washington, United States
westernmost city on Puget Sound
above ground sans tectonic plates
population 9,834 per 2010 census
end result from biological mates
maintains commission form
of government drafted by mandates.
Shelton served by small steamboats
comprising Puget Sound Mosquito Fleet
Old Settler, Irene, Willie, City of Shelton,
Marian, Clara Brown, & S.G. Simpson
logging, farming, dairying, ranching
& oyster cultivation for populace to eat
Simpson Timber Company mill
on Puget Sound's Oakland Bay over yon
dominates landscape of the down
town area as essential heart beat
Shelton identifies the "Christmas
Tree Capital" sold by the ton.
47°12'49?N 123°6'22?W (47.213702,
-123.106088) coordinate bench mark
total area of 5.9 square miles (15 km2),
of which 5.6 square miles (15 km2) land
0.3 square miles (0.78 km2) (5.60%)
water laps with an occasional errant shark
in a pinch captured, processed and canned
a delicacy that fin de siecle bony
illegal booty fined by the oceanic narc.
well nigh two and a half decades in the past
this poet trekked across America
beginning in a place called Gap
Pennsylvania - where stockpile
of Amish goodies barely did last
and vanished in a gingerly snap
of fingers, which necessitated
sustenance when van fueled i.e. gassed
up while myself or the other
driver stole a short nap
seduced to sleep by syncopated tires
as highway miles passed
inching closer to youngest sister
via this linear transcontinental lap
destination Seattle Washington
indigenous iconic statue cast.
Ronald Strickland a fine companion
(posted bulletin for traveling fine companion
at Hostelling International - Chamounix Falls Mansion
West Fairmount Park),
and boone story teller to boot
about my age (now five decades plus nine)
then trying to rake in some loot
by writing about his travels,
yet unpretentious and not able
to square an Apple pi circle
nor, calculate square a root
perhaps one day, I will surprise him
with a call and give him a toot.
September is aging with a cool beauty
and the Missouri seems to be hurrying the expedition
into a world of natural splendor that is impatient to strip our spirit to it's bare light,
in my silent moments of strategy I feel the birth pangs of winter in the air
and know that an emergency of shelter will soon be the crucible,
more days than not the river wind has aided the Corps of Discovery's adventure,
rarely have we had to pull Destiny along by ropes
and today I'm off the boat, hunting a fleet and mammoth goat
the pronghorned antelope, unlike the buffalo and deer herds
that have easily been in excess of 500, these shy creatures
move about in small groups, seemingly familial in manner,
a hide of short, soft white and brown hair
which stripes the throat, and vicious charcoal horns
that could impale a man in a single jolt, none of us has ever seen such an animal,
these damn goats bolt like bullets every time I creep near
they must be catching my scent for I am stealth and camouflaged,
they are so agile and swift, unafraid to speed through the most dangerous ravines,
getting back to camp with no hooves to show for my time
I see that John Sheilds has sacked a peculiar hare,
he calls it a jackrabbit, it is a monster rabbit no doubt
20 pounds dead and can leap like a rock across water, 20 foot spreads at full speed,
we all laugh and agree this place is becoming more of a jungle than a prarie,
any moment we may encounter apes and wherewolves,
its good to see Private Shanon chuckle well since returning
from being alone along the river for sixteen days nearly starved and maddened,
the fires be hot and the kettles be kickin with the right stuff
most of us are consuming 5, 000 calories per day including several pounds of meat each,
the mission is teaching the men's' bodies new extremes, the exertion is remarkable,
sunburn, blisters, rolled ankles, sprained wrists and backs, inadequate sleep,
mosquito bites, spider bites, ant bites, hours of tedious paddling and foraging,
no woman love, gaurd duties, chores, the stress of Indian encounters and ambush,
home sickness,
the only thing familiar to us is eachother,
sharing our sufferings, sharing our survival,
J.A.B.