Midges Poems | Examples

Critterature: The Dread Letter U

If you've been keeping up,
Those who've read me will see
I've been writing 'bout animals
Alphabetically.
They've all behaved well,
Made their entrance on cue,
'til at last I arrived at the dread letter "U".
Letter "U" proved a challenge I couldn't defeat,
After trying and trying, I admit that I'm beat.
The names that I found seemed a bit too absurd,
Like uakari, urutu, and umbrella bird.
Instead, I'll endeavor now to employ
A device that I hope everyone will enjoy.
Not literary art in any high sense,
But a pretty good example of literary license.
My "U" category has villains like these:
Midges, mosquitoes, ticks, flies, and fleas,
Then spiders, and dust mites, and gnats, if you please.
I'll stop naming them here for the list would be endless.
It's no mystery to me why these bugs are so friendless.
It's poor social skills that make them iniquitous,
But lucky for me…'cause they're also U-biquitous.

Ode To a Gnat

Gnats, fruitflies, midges, black flies
What do you call them?
I call them pests.
Unwelcome guests
I call them demons from hell.
They fly past my face.
They go for my eyes.
Lucifer in disguise
They like my white screen
They’re like a bad dream
And they’re really no good
When they try for my food
Oh please go away
You devils so small
You MUST be gone
As summer turns into fall
I don’t want to see
You ‘round here again
Count your tiny selves warned
Go back whence you came
Go straight down the drain

Rain Dance

the gray green frogs
that often
silently squat as still as bricks
and blocks
around the pear-shaped garden pond
are frisky

restless
they plop in and out of the weedy water
boasting bigly as they billow out
many a full-throated croak

- a raucous gasconade
that both far and near
splashes upon the ear

they declare
a coming of a wetting

as bimbo thighed
legs akimbo and wagging
they swim
through cloudy waves
of mincing midges

- and other madcap
bity water-skimmers

a sure telling of a drenching
with a later drip
of rainbow glimmers

The Old Coaster

The Old Coaster   

I got meself a coaster bus, 
To make a motorhome.
I checked it out for any rust,
In it we’re gonna roam.

We’ll check out all the freebie sites, 
And camps along the Murray.
We’ll get a coupla  lectric bikes,
And take our time we’re in no hurry.

We’ll work our way around the place,
Travellin this great wide land.
Out at St George pickin grapes,
Or packin fruit by hand.

We’ll do some fossickin at Rubyvale,
And we‘ll search for nuggets of gold.
The kids are gone the house is for sale,
Lets do it before we get old.

The Coaster’s looking pretty good,
With most the things we need.
A shower ‘n‘ bed  ’n’ cupboards for food,
And a stove, to cook ourselves a feed.

There’s a wardrobe for clothes, a TV too.
And a sink to wash the dishes,
A fridge to keep the tucker cool,
Fully screened to stop the midges.

We’ve got maps and books and mobile phones,
We gave away the goldfish.
Henry the cat has a brand new home,
But it’s our friends we’ll miss.

Turn off the lights and shut the door,
We’re packed and ready to leave.
It’s  “AKEBIA” you’ll be looking for,
And our friendship you’ll receive.
__________________

Summer In the Meadow

Down in the meadow, bees are buzzing away
cows laze about, after feeding all day
Wildflowers attract butterflies, in pastel arrays
lapping up nectar, in the warm sunny rays 

Down in the meadow, lambs frolic and play
ladybirds climb grass tufts, that gently sway
A farmer wipes his brow, whilst loading hay
midges swirl about, as young horses neigh

Down in the meadow, goldfinches come to lay
gobbling down thistle seeds, without delay
Baby spiders spin webs, in more than one way
none of them mind each other, so all’s ok

Down in the meadow, an old donkey brays
don’t think he’s cross, just dislikes his dray
The residents don’t care, what this ass says
all have things to do, and ignore me anyway

Thoughts of Arran

The air was pure and bright. A sea-salt tingle
hovered in an easygoing offshore breeze.
In mesmerising rhythm, wavelets sloshed 
and swished along the timeworn jetty wall.
The bay was sparkling in the morning light 
as early gannets hungrily patrolled 
their crystal-clear domain.Slight movement now
within the overnighting boats, safe moored,
serenely sheltered at the break of day.
A swan flotilla, now near fully grown
and all in a row, in silence glided by,
exploring weed and tidal offerings 
under a careful matriarchal eye.
The year was moving on, the midges gone,
and still the little ferry ploughed its course 
across the bay, its passengers intent
on finding peace and personal content.
The cafe at the pier, with clinking cups,
was heralding the day, with early starters,
few in number now. The summer throng
dispersed and homeward bound, to feed 
on memories. For some, like me,
a fitting epitaph might be
“He lived his life in thoughts of Arran “.

Garden Ponds

POND LIFE
  
White water lily rooted deep
Profusive alba in flora peep;
Over the surface,upside down
Waterboatman-nature's clown.
Spiders spin their bubbled bell
Close to a ramshorn in crimson shell;
Stick insects,two inches long
Feed midst a tumultuous throng;
Mosquitoes,midges and water fleas
Breed ' neath the shade of willow trees;
Rush,sedge in tall loose strife
In open ponds that team with life.


re-post from  | Year Posted 2007

Appreciation

There is bird crap on the car window.
In the morning light
it’s a gritty white ghost,
a splatter still passing-by
making its way to earth.
The windscreen is a camera,
excrement caught in flight
like accidental art.
With some imagination 
it could be a city landscape
under a snowy sky. 
A humming miasma of midges
is also fine art if you can stand it.
Regarding art appreciation,
I am on the fence,
but sometimes, like now,
I know what I don’t like.

The Old Oliver

Grandpa's tractor coughs, sputters and comes alive, acrid smoke sharpening my senses... gears engaged, lurches forward, disturbing clouds of fungus midges bursting in the sun from the damp clumps of weeds near the barn.
Anise Hyssop, wild spires along the barn, fill the air with licorice smells as the rear wheels brush by.

Proceeding to the field, the tractor hiccups over clumps of soil, jarring memories of Grandpa's firm grip around my waist, riding along, teaching me secrets of the earth...

...a cycle finished, Grandma brought out to the field at lunchtime, a covered basket filled with cold chicken, potato salad, creamed cucumbers and half a fresh berry pie, lovingly prepared the day before, sharing smiles and my excited recollections of the morning...

...another couple hours and Grandpa tires a bit, so we ramble back to the barn, spying Grandma unclipping laundry from the clothesline, softly singing beautiful hymns of praise.

A Blessed Day, Indeed..

Pond Peripherals

White water lily rooted deep
Profusive alba in flora peep;
Over the surface,upside down
Waterboatman-nature's clown.
Spiders spin their bubbled bell
Close to a ramshorn in crimson shell;
Stick insects,two inches long
Feed midst a tumultuous throng;
Mosquitoes,midges and water fleas
Bredd ' neath the shade of willow trees;
Rush,sedge in tall loose strife
In open ponds that team with life.

Woodland Walks

the footpaths that stretched
out of sight until never

the parched ground and grasses
when miles seemed forever

wild garlic, the nettles
the heat and the heather

the flies that would zizzzz
past our ears to wherever

the bees in the foxgloves
collecting their treasure

the midges that danced
in a group all together

the butterflies that zigged
and then zagged for good measure

the dandelions drifting
on the air at life's leisure

the long lost hot summers
full of fun love and pleasure

 - I remember those walks

and the woods 

and that weather.

Mayflies

Mayflies
by Michael R. Burch

These standing stones have stood the test of time
but who are you
                           and what are you
                                                        and why?
As brief as mist, as transient, as pale ...
Inconsequential mayfly!

Perhaps the thought of love inspired hope?
Do midges love? Do stars bend down to see?
Do gods commend the kindnesses of ants
to aphids? Does one eel impress the sea?

Are mayflies missed by mountains? Do the stars
regret the glowworm’s stellar mimicry
the day it dies? Does not the world go on
as if it’s no great matter, not to be?

Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose.
And yet somehow you’re everything to me. 

Originally published by Clementine Unbound. Keywords/Tags: May, mayfly, mayflies, spring, time, daffodils, absence, missing you, mist, transient, transience, pale, inconsequential, stars, sea, everything, universe, A. E. Housman quote

Elegant Danger

languid pools shimmer
graceful dragonflies
midges unaware

Haikai - Another Day In My Garden

haikia
~~~~~~~~
another night
torrential rain fills my butt
summer drought respite
-
a blackbird bathing
another overcast day
like Trump dense widespread
-
midges mosquitoes
larvae live food for the carp
land fauna struggles
-
dogwood tree in bloom
not gone unnoticed plus bees
late summer berries
-
no butterflies
two days since then only one
summertime failures
-
most life can adapt
overtime wet nights remiss
wet dry balance gone
-
a happy note
a blackbird sings joyful dusk
still no swallows

A Half Hour Garden Safari Recorded In Haiku

haiku
*********
a fledgeling starling
came to the pond to quench thirst
a koi carp jumped
-
no butterflies
a white tailed bumblebee queen
mint moths abundant
-
hen blackbird
feeding newly hatched chicks
wasps succumbed to rain
-
flower fly hovers
over greater speedwell
forget-me-not blooms
-
midges chance their luck
my white lilac turned to seed
bird cherries ripen
-
on my garden bench
recording observations
shirt off sunbathing
-
moss once roof attached
lay scattered on the footpath
spring storm has its way
-
a little cracker
a joy... birds shelling peanuts
the squirrels' hoard them

***********
senryu
******
Trump feeds the birds
then shoots or traps them... frugal
no a wicked man

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