My lazy muse went wandering around
When fallen into my knees, I astound A cute lady like a coloured teardrop Fallen from heaven an angel's eye drop. She sat silent on my lap, I wonder Shy or timid, what her cute mind thunder In bright red attire with black beauty spots An angel's love blot, my muse I forgot. O lady, from the garden of Eden Did you come with a tweet from the heaven? Or to tie my naughty mind on his seat And to teach me to taste nature at least . While my thoughts fly far away to the sky Tiny wings blossoms, ladybird soars high.
xanthic petaled pedestal- penny for your thoughts
10/6/2019 - Poetry form: Haiku - I saw a ladybird/ladybug sitting on a bright yellow sunflower. She sat so still for so long I couldn't help wondering what she might be thinking! Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Seven spotted ladybird,
Dancing in my mind. Its shade a deep burgundy, with a slight shine that sparkled under the soft rays of the sun. It wobbled its way across the hood of car. And I poked it gently, Making it clumsily fall on its back in the driveway. I cupped the tiny thing in my hands, And eventually, it flew away.
A poem about my experience with a ladybird during my student exchange to New Zealand. A beautiful country.
The thought beetle.
There is a little thought beetle deep within my mind; He is going around, searching for a rhyme. He digs out my unconscious thoughts And helps me to write another line. When his work is done, he hibernates And I sit back and smile. The ladybird flutters around inside my head; She is in search of the pages, I haven't written yet. She zips and darts, flitting from here to there; She is always in a hurry and she is a nervous wreck. The worm is just turning another corner, in my brain's maze; He's having a look around, to see if there's anything I need to say. Anything I forgot to mention; he will find what needs to be said. The slowly moving worm is lazy, but he is useful in his own way, (C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
in splendid sun dotted wings untouched by frost to come; bright they flicker in light and move no further than the colour of today.
A yellow ladybird waiting for the light to turn red.
Patiently awaiting what's to come. She knows better than to make rude gestures at the light. It won't make it change any quicker. She knows she can spend her time better than being an angst-ridden insect cynically hating phonies. It's true patience is a virtue and she sticks by this principle. No matter what they say, a principle's a principle. The yellow ladybird knows a lot of things. A delightful delinquent who enjoys reading eloquent literature and can tell you who painted that pretty picture. But she is still just a yellow ladybird. Still only learning how to operate in this world. But when the light turns red, then she will know. Know more than she does now. Soon the yellow ladybird will see the light, be it the light she would've liked or not, I can not say. Only she can decide if the waiting was worth it. And for her poor soul, I hope it was.
Experimenting a bit. I know it doesn't rhyme much but still a poem.
Interrupt what you will.
sun melts the snow caps on the mountains hair and grates the tough green, soft In Caramel pastures, In sunken hills, Under the seaweed, Cowslips grow, With rubied spotted Ladies crawling up blades, And the bumbles rumbled buzz, a continuous growl, Sways the floating gold. The dark spider darts Spearing crumpled Flies in its silken steel Thread. Thread which sparkles amid the Bronze knives which spear it too.
— The End —