#bats
My world is measured, inch by silver inch,
I do not leap, I do not even flinch.
My home, a spiral, rides upon my back,
I travel slowly on a glistening track.
Tonight, I climbed the tallest hosta leaf,
A journey that defied all disbelief,
To watch the party from my verdant spire,
And fill my tiny heart with secret fire.
I saw the Flower-Cat, so bold and grand,
The undisputed master of the land.
He dug for treasures with a happy sound,
And spread a sense of comfort all around.
His stripe, a beacon in the moon's soft light,
A slash of white against the dark of night.
I wished I had his confidence and grace,
To feel so perfectly at home in any place.
And then the Queen, the Silver-Faced and wise,
Appeared with ancient knowledge in her eyes.
She moved as if the garden were her soul,
And knew the secret name of every vole.
Her tail, a marvel, held her in the air,
A silent anchor, free of every care.
I watched her gentle, slow, and knowing smile,
And wished that I could be that wise, for just a while.
Then, from the stars, a velvet shadow fell,
And cast a truly captivating spell.
The Sky-Puppy, a dancer in the dark,
Who bore upon his wings a joyful spark.
He spoke in clicks, he laughed a silken sound,
And saw the world while hanging upside down.
He flew! He soared! A feat I'll never know,
Confined to my deliberate path below.
They gathered there, a trio of the night,
And shared their friendship in the pale moonlight.
They spoke of things I'll never understand,
Of sky and earth and all the hidden land.
I was not jealous, only filled with awe,
That I was there to witness nature's law—
The law that states that even in the dark,
A friendship can ignite a hopeful spark.
My view, a single leaf. My speed, a crawl.
And yet, tonight, I felt I saw it all.
The grandest party, not of pomp or sound,
But of the quiet love that they had found.
And as I start my journey, slow and deep,
Down the slick leaf, while all the world's asleep,
My silver trail will shine beneath the moon,
A silent poem, a forgotten tune.
A tiny testament that I was there,
A secret that the garden lets me share.
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 11:28 AM UTC
The moon was a perfect, polished pearl, hung high in the inky sky. It was the kind of night when the world held its breath, and secrets felt safe to wander. In a quiet, sprawling backyard, behind a house where the humans slept soundly, a grand event was about to unfold. This was the night of the Annual Garden Gala, a tradition known only to a select few.
Our first guest arrived with a confident, bouncy trundle. It was Bartholomew, a Flower-Cat of distinguished stripe and exceptional fluff. He carried his invitation, a single, perfect maple leaf, which he placed ceremoniously on a flat stone before nudging it with his pink button nose. His duty done, he made a beeline for the catering section—a patch of overturned earth where the grubs were rumored to be particularly plump this year. He began his happy digging, his little paws working with intense, gourmet focus.
The second guest made no sound at all. A whisper of movement, a flicker of silver, and Penelope the Silver-Faced Snuggler was there. She had come via the "high road," her marvelous pink tail wrapped securely around a low-hanging branch of the old oak tree. She descended with the slow, deliberate grace of a queen. Penelope was the party's hostess and social chair. It was her garden, after all, and she knew every root and stone.
"Bartholomew, darling," she sighed, her voice like the rustle of dry leaves. "Straight to the buffet, as always. Do try to leave some for the others.
"Bartholomew looked up, a smudge of dirt on his nose. "Penelope! A fine evening for a gala! These are exquisite," he mumbled around a mouthful. "My compliments to the chef—which is the dirt, I suppose.
"Penelope smiled her slow, wise smile. "The earth provides. Now, do behave. Our guest of honor is about to arrive.
"Right on cue, a new sound joined the gentle chirping of the crickets. It was a series of tiny, high-pitched clicks and chirps from above. Bartholomew and Penelope both looked up. A dark shape detached itself from the night, swooping in a joyful, looping dance before making a perfect, whisper-soft landing, hanging upside down from the trellis arching over the rose bushes.
It was Pip, the Velvet-Winged Sky-Puppy. He blinked his bright, intelligent eyes, adjusting to the view.
"Pip! You made it!" Penelope said warmly.
"Wouldn't miss it!" Pip chirped, his voice like tiny bells. "The mosquitos by the pond were an absolute nightmare tonight, but I cleared them out for you. Think of it as my party gift."
"A true hero!" Bartholomew declared, trotting over to the trellis. He looked up at the inverted Sky-Puppy with genuine admiration. "I don't know how you do that. If I tried to hang by my tail, I'd get a head rush and need a nap for a week.
"Pip giggled, a sound like rustling silk. "It's all in the toes! You just have to relax. Speaking of which..." With a little shuffle, he reached into a fold of his wing and produced a single, perfectly ripe, wild strawberry. He dropped it neatly, and it landed on a soft patch of moss right in front of Penelope.
Penelope’s eyes widened. "Oh, Pip! You shouldn't have. This is a top-shelf berry!" She picked it up delicately and took a small, appreciative bite.
The three friends gathered in the moonlight. Bartholomew, grounded and content, shared his discovery of a particularly delicious beetle. Penelope, ever the gracious host, pointed out which night-blooming flowers had the sweetest scent. Pip, from his upside-down perch, recounted his aerial adventures, describing the world as a beautiful, dark quilt patched with lights.
They were an unlikely trio: the stoic Flower-Cat who found joy in the earth, the serene Silver-Faced Snuggler who knew the secrets of the quiet places, and the exuberant Sky-Puppy who danced with the stars. But here, in the secret safety of the midnight garden, their differences melted away. They were simply three friends, sharing a perfect moment of peace, proving that the most wonderful friendships often bloom in the most unexpected corners of the world.
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 11:24 AM UTC
You hear a flutter in the fading light,
A leathery shadow in the coming night.
Your mind might leap to spooky, scary things,
Of tangled hair and creepy, flapping wings.
But push those dusty, gothic thoughts aside,
And open up your heart and eyes real wide.
That's not a monster swooping from above,
That's a Velvet-Winged Sky-Puppy, made of love!
His wings aren't leather, they're a silken shawl,
The softest, smoothest blanket of them all.
They're clever hands that cup and catch the breeze,
And let him dance and tumble through the trees.
He's not a bird, he's not a flying mouse,
He's a tiny, fuzzy, airborne fun-house!
A topsy-turvy, upside-down delight,
Who wraps himself into a burrito for the night.
His face is not a gargoyle's, grim and old,
But a tiny fox's, brave and bold!
With radar ears that twitch and turn and hear
The silent secrets of the atmosphere.
His nose, a button, wrinkled, soft, and small,
Is busy catching scents beyond the wall.
He chirps and clicks, a song you've never heard,
A secret, supersonic, happy word!
He doesn't want your blood, so don't you fear,
He wants a juicy mosquito right near his ear!
He is the guardian of the summer night,
Who gobbles pests with pure and playful might.
A single Sky-Puppy, on his nightly quest,
Puts thousands of those buzzing bugs to rest.
He's not a menace, he's your bestest friend,
Who makes the summer parties never end!
And when he sleeps? The cuteness is too much!
He finds a rafter, with a gentle touch,
He hangs a perfect, upside-down "Hello,"
And tucks his wings in, ready for the show.
He snuggles with his friends in one big heap,
A fuzzy, warm, and cuddly pile of sleep.
They look like little, ripe, and furry pears,
Just dreaming dreams without a single care!
So when the dusk descends, and stars ignite,
Look to the sky and search for his sweet flight.
That's not a specter in the air, you see,
That's a helpful, happy, Sky-Puppy, wild and free!
He's just a fluffy, flying, friendly chap,
Who wants to take a little upside-down nap.
A hero in a fuzzy, winged disguise,
Just waiting for you to finally realize!
Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
In the depths of the night, where shadows creep,
Lie tales of darkness, so hauntingly deep.
A moon cloaked in mist, a chilling wind's wail,
Where spirits awaken, and courage may fail.
Beneath gnarled trees, a graveyard awakes,
Where restless souls wander, their rest at stake.
With hollowed eyes and whispers of despair,
They yearn for release from their eternal snare.
Amongst the tombstones, a figure does tread,
A specter in black, with a cloak like the dead.
Her name is Lilith, the mistress of fright,
With a wicked grin, she conjures the night.
"Oh! Hear my call," she whispers in the dark,
As she weaves her spells, leaving her mark.
Bats take to the sky, their wings spread wide,
Guiding lost souls, to the other side.
In the haunted manor, spirits do dwell,
Where echoes of laughter turn into a knell.
Ghostly footsteps echo down the hall,
As the present and past collide and enthrall.
The clock strikes midnight, the hour of dread,
When the veil between worlds grows thin, it is said.
Ghosts emerge from their slumber, seeking release,
Their ethereal presence, a haunting caprice.
In the flickering candlelight, shadows dance,
As witches gather, their potions enhance.
With cauldrons bubbling and spells on their lips,
They conjure enchantments, with mystical quips.
Oh! Beware the night, when the jack-o'-lanterns glow,
And spirits arise from the depths below.
For Halloween's magic, a captivating lure,
Where darkness and mystery forever endure.
So, as the moon rises, casting an eerie glow,
Embrace the enchantment, let your fears go.
For on this haunted eve, when the spirits unite,
We celebrate Halloween, in the shadows of night.
But tread carefully, for darkness is near,
And the spirits are watching, with ghoulish cheer.
Enjoy the thrill, the ***** and the fright,
On this chilling Halloween night.
Oct 27, 2023
Oct 27, 2023 at 9:12 AM UTC
a dusky walk
through the middle
of the park
clear of
the shadows
of branch
and leaf
at its edges
the only light
stretched out
but struggling
from distant
lamp posts
or the
yet more distant
halo of moon
breaching cloud
it is enough
to plot
a route by
but not
with confidence
a leather flapping
overhead
tells tale
of bats
in their erratic
yet assured flight
abhorred
by many
perhaps for
that very reason;
unpredictable
unflinching
not flying
the expected path
Sep 12, 2022
Sep 12, 2022 at 6:05 AM UTC
In the desert
there are many cacti
Only blooming when day is done.
Beautiful flower paradise
waiting for the bats to come.
Bats acting like bees do in daylight
You can say they are nighttime bees.
Making sure that deserts cacti
will bloom forever,
creating nighttime’s flower sea.
This world has been made perfectly
for anyone who wants to see!!
Shell✨🐚
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 8:03 AM UTC
In bitter winds the little Pipistrelle bats
Flitter hither and thither
Into the hills,
Around tree-timber limbs
With brittle twigs.
They wing their way
In thrills
Of twists
And turns.
Meanwhile, deep down below
The cows moan,
Roaming through the range.
They moo while they chew the cud,
Ruminating their food
Grazed earlier from prairie meadows.
Through the long day
They are accompanied
By flocks of birds
Twittering and tweeting,
Much noisier than the bats.
A feather flung chorus
Singing operas and arias
Amongst the misty trees.
Word composers love these things:
Mother Nature wrapping us
In her arms
And filling the air
With sights and sounds
That sooth the soul,
Sending us soundly to sleep
While those bats
Come out to play.
Paul Butters
© PB 26\11\2020.
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 4:53 PM UTC
Pigs carry giant whips
and shoot bullets
and spray their spit
at bats.
Bats fly and bump into rats.
Rats claim they are cousins
yet eat some bats and
become poisonous in their speech.
Bats cry out that everyone can have
a slice of the freedom cake
take one piece each.
Rats are hungry
because there's a hole in their tummy
so they tell the pigs to steal the whole cake.
Bats bat their eyelids to the darkness
realizing their alliance
was fake.
Jun 15, 2020
Jun 15, 2020 at 6:48 PM UTC
There once were some bats in Wohan
Who infected the meat they were on
The Chinese got sick first
But we have suffered the worst
We can’t even shake hands till it’s gone!
Apr 24, 2020
Apr 24, 2020 at 12:07 AM UTC
We met in our minds
One enchanted evening
Blue black hair
Dark eyes that pierce the soul ... MY soul
We embraced for a fleeting moment
Glassy eyed ... dream believers
Fools like us keep the world entertained
Like human dartboards
We dodge poisonous arrows
We play the games that others don't dare to play
From the pages of a book
The story comes alive
We are able to make believe
Then like a bat in the night
You mysteriously disappeared out of sight
At the first glimpse of the morning sun
Headache ... empty glass
The stench of wine combined with silence
Tangible silence ...
Suddenly it doesn't matter where we are
We're somewhere on the planet ... You and I
The face of the earth they call it
Under the same blanket of stars
And I think I have learned to love you from afar
A necessary evil to survive
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 11:49 AM UTC
Pulse.
Echoes.
Pulse.
Echoes.
Pulse.
Echo moved.
Eat.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 5:28 AM UTC
Birds own the day
Bats own the night
Birds see in grey
Bats think they're right
At the break of dawn
Both take flight
Until darkness is gone
And we live in light
The beginning of dusk
Spells the end of our luck
Vampire bats steal our blood
Empire gats steal our love
The birds and the bees
Are no match
For the bats in the trees
They drain our youthful creed
And cause our heart to freeze
Until we hear the pleas
Of others being drained
We're glad they're in pain
We want them to be stained
By the nightly game
We've nightshifted into bats
Encouraging a nature nocturnal
It's like herding vampire cats
When the winged war is internal
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 12:05 AM UTC
I know I'm not a morning person
Not am I one at night
I'm not quite sure just what I am,
'Cause nothing feels quite right.
The night-time makes my eyelids droop
The mornings seem to crawl.
Not a morning or a night person–
I don't think I'm a person at all.
/\ /\
( •w• )
\ /
\__/
I'm secretly a bat
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
I will dance at night
Bats sing a dark, Hamlet song
Shadows make great leads
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 11:43 PM UTC
You were standing in a red cardigan.
You told me somehow a bat had got in.
I got a broom and a bucket and put on a hat. We put the bucket on the broom and that was that. You told me to get the bat back out outside or don't come back to bed, I went to war with this 4 oz mammal, the war is on I said. I'm going to get it. Get outta this house or you're going to find yourself dead.
I made a war face, it swooped down at me, I said oh no you don't and threw the bucket over his wings, and that was that. That was it, and I won the war. That was that, I put it outside and then I closed the door.
Your red cardigan was easy to spot, even though you didn't have any makeup on, I saw you sitting there in the corner chair. Bucket on a broomstick you looked absurd to me, I asked you if you wanted something to drink. You said no, I just want to go back to sleep. I said oh, do you want to go to bed back with me.
Take off that silly red jacket, and that hat that doesn't match. Put on something more for sleeping and then let's get it on. You said okay. I said I'm starving. I told me to eat something if I was starving.
I picked you up and threw you down on the bed, I pulled off your pj's and your underwear fast. I said I'd like to eat out, you said you were thrilled, I said I won the war now I'm going to stake my win. You grabbed my head and pulled it closer to you, I grabbed you with my arms I knew what to do. Mammal, mammal, animal in me, I said let's play for keeps, you said I want you inside of me. I laid you down down down down and it was on on on I said let's get things hot hot hot you said I turn you on on on, I said I'd just begun.
We danced ourselves awake until the morning light arrived. And then I heard a sound from the window outside. I think he's back, I said, you said don't focus on him, I said I can't leave it if the war hadn't ended. I kissed your face I kissed your legs, I asked you to spit in my mouth. I'm you're warrior just hold on while I **** this flying rat, you made a face, I grabbed the broom, you put your red cardigan back on and met me with the bucket inside the living room.
I took the broom as my sword and the bucket as my shield, I take our heraldry very seriously. I through the broom in the air, and caught the bat with my shield, she went to open the door, I went to open the freezer. Not in there she screamed, but he'll never make it out alive. She said it'll make everything else smell I said he's got to die, I grabbed him by the wings and took him to the kitchen at once, turned on the garbage disposal and pushed him through it. Blood on my shirt, blood on the stove. Blood was everywhere even across her nose. I won the war I said with a gleam of excite, she said now come back to bed so you can claim your gift and your prize. So I went back to bed and gave her back my head. I stuck my tongue out far as I possibly could. And I went down, I went down down town. Oh I went down. I went down down town. I went to town, I went down down town. I went to town. I went down down town.
Aug 24, 2017
Aug 24, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
Bat within the morning,
basking upon the dawn,
frolicking within the dull red,
as the heavens begin to yawn.
Bat within the skies,
enjoying the lulling breeze,
flitting through the autumn forest,
wandering 'round the trees.
Bat within it's home,
eaten many flies,
hibernate throughout the day,
then take to the skies.
Jun 6, 2017
Jun 6, 2017 at 12:34 PM UTC
It takes one to know one swift fell swoop
like a bat out of hell and certainly the belfry.
If you've something to prove to the birds and the bees,
I won't bat an eye at your rhinoplasty.
I'll take two hoots, 'cause I sure won't give them.
Find somebody else to get up and go;
I cry like I fly like a carrion crow
and I've two left feet and no time to tango.
It takes three strikes 'til it's not just company
any more — it's a crowd and my agoraphobia
is making this worse, so I might disperse.
If you don't quite care, let's put two and two together;
playing pretend we're birds of a feather.
I could commend, but that's such a no-no;
you're more like a doornail to me, less like a dodo.
And if you don't much mind, I might just take five.
I'm chicken-livered, but at least alive
though I feel like a dead duck, dusted and done.
I won't be there, I'll stay fair and square,
right back at square one.
Now can you see how this is cyclic?
Makes me feel one sandwich short of a picnic,
up the wall, and driving me sick.
Apologies, I don't mean to nitpick,
and I know I've a number of bees in my bonnet,
but I've zero interest in your haiku and sonnets.
So here's one for the road,
turn by the way the devil drives you home,
and one good turn deserves
another.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 3:58 AM UTC
Sonha em se vestir com as nuvens
Cantar para uma platéia no topo da montanha mais alta
Sentir a luz do sol infiltrando seu corpo
Compartilhando o brilho entre si.
Beijar sem machucar
Divertir sem causar alvoroço
Ver sem precisar matar
nem correr para qualquer pescoço.
Beber um licor no bar mais caro
Flertar com os bonitões
Um volume a mais em suas calças
Escapando-lhes os botões.
A única platéia daquelas asas pretas,
aveludadas
Era o limo da gruta
Não corria, nem se assustava
Batia palmas quando ela cantava.
Se apaixonara.
Como poderia dar certo?
Ela queria o mundo
Saia todo dia por um segundo
Queimando-se
Por um breve trinfo.
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
He must put away his fake identity and become what others fear
To take away what criminals hold dear
The comfort of a mask to hide the anger and the pain
The memory of a night that will forever remain
A desperate criminal and a pointed gun
BANG! Down goes one
BANG! A second one
Blood shed tears leave a little boy stranded and alone
On his knees stunned, his parents gunned by the desperate one
Things took a wrong turn, now all the happiness is burned
Through the tears streaming down young Bruce Wayne’s face.
The young boy now a man won’t forget his promise
A life of pain is all he’s really known
He now feels the darkness is his only home
Criminals beware you will know his despair
He is the protection for a city covered with scars ones that only he can heal
When darkness falls means the Dark Knight Rises
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC