"arthropod" poems
king of the sea,
with a rigorous exoskeleton peeling away
moulting causes such distress,
exposed to the thrashing undertow of the sea
and enemies
who protects you?
a callow arthropod poised on fractured shells
it isn’t your father,
balancing a bottle of brandy between his lips
or your confidant,
skidding his tires across your mind
a starfish tried,
she threw her arms round your shell
as you added new muscles underneath
she stuck her tube feet in her claws
as you brittled her skin
she said I love you
and you retreated
when you are 70
and clamouring the floor
put your arms behind your back to beckon her to you
try –
she is the sea and no one owns her.
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 3:38 PM UTC
what on earth is this feeling
(yellowing formaldehyde)
kind of like old heartbreak reeling
a vivisection, never healing
coat & spray on the insecticide
what on earth is this feeling
criminal butterflies stealing
the cogs & screws in my arthropod insides
kind of like old heartbreak reeling
heartthrobs come frenzied then unfeeling
my vague worries preside
what on earth is this feeling
whateverphobia; a personal ceramic ceiling
to myself, is how I've always lied
kind of like old heartbreak reeling
carcass littered webs are usually unappealing
my own web has much to elide
kind of like old heartbreak reeling
what on earth is this feeling
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 3:31 PM UTC
you will thrive in your own cocoon—
legless arthropod wriggling out
of its leaved shell, crunching
on the stem of a marigold’s shrivel.
you crawl up the leaves like they’re
the steps of a winding staircase,
circling and circling to one day
step out of your cocoon.
you are your own skin—
a wing ripped in figure
eights of formative tearing.
at the bottom of a
wind-leaned green tower,
you are torn down as if starting all
over again, away from the pace of
a hundred other caterpillar’d creatures.
you are not quite a monarch butterfly,
not yet the zebra-patterned black and white,
but you bloom in the form of a familiar marigold, a daisy’d curve—
thriving as a flower, swaying and alive.
you must visit the filial leaves and trace
their veins gently.
soon you will thrive in your own cocoon;
as those plant’d seeds will
soon leave legless arthropods wriggling—
for how would a caterpillar’s cocoon wither
without your leaves crinkling beneath it?
Dec 3, 2019
Dec 3, 2019 at 8:59 PM UTC
Dancing in the rain
washing away the pain,
darkness, is a place of true madness;
a place the sun never truly shines
sunset you will only crave to see,
and it only give shattered dreams,
I sit alone on those rainy night
crying my eyes out for true love
to open his ears to me;
but only weaknesses come to me,
I am no arthropod that web traps
because I am the one that has fallen in it,
city of lies is always nearby;
Dark Angels; eyes are always on me,
like a wolf looking for food;
He makes me feel so drowsy
when he kisses my lips
I began to float,
like I was light as a feather floating in
the autumn breeze;
with a sweet shyness about me
that takes over me,
when he plays around with my hair
It feels so nicely touched;
I loved that so much,
He would take me in his arms
and he would charm my heart,
rarely he ever makes me feel this away
then he calls me beloved;
this is where I know to wake up,
he cast a spell on me.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 1:27 AM UTC
Luscious Spring is wonderful avian theater ... The cameo appearance of Bradford Pear , a fragrant , beneficial Chestnut Tree of April ..
Melodious springtime , 'Creations Opus stage ..'
Voluminous , arthropod soloist , capering
the riparian rivers , break the searing afternoons ,
sing to me , the cool blessing of night ...
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
Foolish beetle, rolling a ball of waste,
Do not you know your feces has no worth?
What a waste of the precious gift of life
In light of bright white stars and vast blue seas,
There is so much more in the world than dung,
Alas with indefatigable grit,
Perhaps a curse of Darwinian perfection,
You pack and push your single earthly thing,
From place to place. It is the only life
You know or have been taught to know.
And though I want to pity you, small arthropod,
I too know how it feels to wander on one’s own,
Wondering why and when the time to quit
Amassing an incessant ball of ****
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:04 AM UTC
Staring at endemic
This aráneam friend; crossing-
Few limbs attempting.
Spindle weaving spigots; as-
He levitated eighteen--
Appendages, bewildering
Dainty beauty.
It was his connection--
To sound that; perplexed.
Me-as-the-human.
Watching, watchers, tick.
Patiently pretending my dear-
Arthropod; that scares.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
Dancing in the rain
washing away the pain,
darkness, is a place of true madness;
a place the sun never truly shines
sunset you will only crave to see,
and it only give shattered dreams,
I sit alone on those rainy night
crying my eyes out for true love
to open his ears to me;
but only weaknesses come to me,
I am no arthropod that web traps
because I am the one that has fallen in it,
city of lies is always nearby;
Dark Angels; eyes are always on me,
like a wolf looking for food;
He makes me feel so drowsy
when he kisses my lips
I began to float,
like I was light as a feather floating in
the autumn breeze;
with a sweet shyness about me
that takes over me,
when he plays around with my hair
It feels so nicely touched;
I loved that so much,
He would take me in his arms
and he would charm my heart,
rarely he ever makes me feel this away
then he calls me beloved;
this is where I know to wake up,
he cast a spell on me.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
When I die
I wish to be
recycled
Cut up into pieces
of useful and useless
parts
and distributed
where I'm needed
most
To serve the world
one
final
time
When I die
I don't want a coffin
Or to be dressed up and posed
as if I am sleeping
For we all know I am not sleeping
I do not want to be burned
Or preserved by chemicals that only
delay
the inevitable
I want to be a part of nature's
cycle
To be eaten by my arthropod friends
and torn apart by wild things and scavengers
To assist proudly in medicine, science, and nutrition
for all the world's species
When I die
Do not bury my body
For I no longer inhabit it
Cast that rotting sack of flesh aside
and use it for good
When I die
do not mourn me
Do not say
"rest in peace"
for I am not resting
Do not say
"gone but not forgotten"
For I am not gone, and will soon be forgotten here
When I die
Celebrate all of the memories
The good and the bad
Tell all my secrets
Read all my poems and letters
Perhaps you will finally understand me
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 11:12 AM UTC
Ripples in a contrasting sky
borrowed from its red twin
the obelisk stood in black relief
a windmill motionless despite the
whirr of arthropod wings
suddenly a flop and a splash
Ghostly vessels under the paint
who sink, bringing together
disparate moments
the puzzle separated by decades
find each others' kin
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 3:09 PM UTC