Moths Poems - Poems about Moths

She keeps moth wings in jars, fragile things pressed against glass like broken promises. She says they’re beautiful, even in their ruin. I ask her why she collects what’s already dead, and she just shrugs, says it’s not about life— it’s about remembering what it felt like to fly....

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A butterfly lights from flower to flower with golden wings, he whiles away each sunny hour. A moth comes out at night, while the world dreams, guided by the light of silvery moonbeams. An ant toils away, working hard for the pack, dressing modestly, he's attired only in black. I try not to judge, as I consider each...

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You must never touch a butterfly and fear its fragile wings for if you touch a butterfly what horrors your touch brings The dust glitters as it falls and the insect starts to wilt for like the flowers on which it feeds its lovely death brings guilt. But make sure to kill the moth that ugly, furry thing it's circling the porch...

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Soft flimsy red moths settled like starving locusts over brittle straw...

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why do moths fly in circles toward light at night? Are they trying to shake pursuers, do they feel fright? Actually, they turn toward source where they see the most bright Which causes a circular or spiral pattern in their evening night flight....

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They shun sunlight but at night, moths take flight; wings spread....

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More moths play on lamp While the Man keep watching them, In His Kingly throne....

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a breeze in trees tiny moths flutter like bees- cherry blossoms me mornng dew on a rose- sleepy moths start to doze...

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“the fate of winter moths” sitting on the stoop, concrete sodden with the chill of late winter. the air acquires a coolness like your first breath after confessional. the Christmas lights illuminate the porch in a motley of whites and oranges. the tangerine glow casting warmth while the sun is taking his smoke break. Two sounds permeate the crisp air rising up to...

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broken fantasies inclement weather, dust hope all lost ...

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Heartless beings only seek to feel the damage that they cause to others Unknowingly, only being aware to see the damage that they have caused. The eyeless ones mock the most strongest in envy of their abilities to deflect the repetitive back stabbings that they sought to create from misery. The enemies may stand tall and...

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Light the oil, bring a candle, watch the shadow show. Night stuffs our minds until our hands follow the moths. See their wings, the brown mottled spans as they lift up the stars. Such moths spin our thoughts this way and that, turn the heart upon its gimbal. Their wings flutter in the candle lit stutter. There are rags to feed them, your cast-offs, honor those...

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Photos of Grandmother David J Walker Grandmother has become a picture That so few of us know Things committed to memory Fall short A black & white print Is creased across the face of the fading image And even a perfect recall Of the last summers eve Shelling peas one evening On the screened-in porch Can’t replace all of what we...

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Midnight in village, No moon, no power, Lamp lit up by granny Flickered with hope; Lured by its flame, Moths spiral around, Making loops and coils Only to get burnt. Date: 06/17/2021 For Workshop: Adjectives Deleted Poetry Contest Sponsor: Jack Webster...

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Luna moths in mid flight giving the world a sense of delight they seem evermore bright things will now be all right I love the sense of air and light Luna moths bring in me in the night I wish I may I wish I might Live a life so nice and tight That some day I can return so bright And...

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