"katydids" poems
Cicadas and katydids are calling
Breezes blow in from my open window
Roses are blooming and leaves are falling
The moon's rays hitting my lawn look like snow
Owls are singing from majestic trees
While sweet Bluebirds are sleeping in bushes
Night dances through the softly blowing breeze
And Midnight silently the world hushes
Dewdrops like jewels shine on roses sweet
And the stars twinkle all through the calm night
While the Fairies dance on enchanted feet
And the moon happily shines very bright
And I under my warm covers doth sleep
Until pretty morning brightly doth peep.
~Marian~
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 12:13 PM UTC
Katydids and fireflies have the levee tonight
Swat team held the day
There is peace now
and peeping neighbors
emptying horror
among themselves in whispers
left to wonder
‘bout the screaming and the barking
of earlier that day
“Put down your weapon and come out
with your hands up”
Again and again
the demand of surrender
Total
There is no other way
“Let them go!
Come out! come out with your hands up!
It will be okay”
…and he argues in his mind with the shame and loss
…and the shame and "No…it will not be okay"
He had hit her! Hit her with the Gun
again and again…with the gun
Of his demands
The gun of his power
to make her!
The gun of his despair
He had hit her
the dog is barking
His children scream!
“Put down the gun and come out
with your hands up!”
How many more times will they say it!
for all the neighbors to hear
on a loud speaker
Surrender!
in front of his children
Had she cheated?
Had he lost his job?
Could he lose any more to the screaming?
to the "junk"?
to the flashing lights?
to the window's smashing?
Fence run down?
Lobbing
canisters of tear gas
into the room's stinging eyes
where there is no room
where there is no time
"I would never hurt them!
You!
You know!"
"Let them go!"
"You left me!"
“Put down your weapon and come out
with your hands up!”
It is all too loud
It is all too much
as you put the gun against your temple and…
pull the trigger
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 11:11 PM UTC
The evening's still and quiet
and the katydids abound.
The flag is hanging listlessly
as I listen to their sound.
Desultory the summer air,
as though the world awaits,
"Something evil this way comes."
the foe is at the gates.
A feeling of impending doom
accompanies the air.
Nothing moves.
A stifling presence hovers over there.
Like a blanket, smothering
t'is much too hard to breathe.
And yet, my arms are paralyzed
and sword, I can't unsheathe.
I watch as shadows gather
in miasma up the street.
A harbinger of evil
with an odor, sickly sweet.
I feel it getting nearer
and my heart beats fast with fright.
What imagination ...
on a stifling summer night.
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
Down a long lane
With a sunset in the west
Flowers here and there
Tall firs and pines
From in the distance
The song of a bubbling creek
Comes from the dark beautiful forest
Where shade mingles with twilight skies
Only the faint painting of a sunset
Is left in the celestial veil of
Sky now
Slowly the colors
Bleed and fade
Then suddenly all together vanish
As I walk down this lane
Listening to the evening sounds
Crickets, cicadas, and katydids
The song of the whippoorwill
And the solo of the wood thrush
Makes me dance alone
On that long lane
Now I skip and now I jump
And now I twirl around
'Til I make my way to that sequestered cottage
That makes beauty sing
And happy tears cry
Some say it's just a cottage
Nothing fancy or grand
But in my heart I know
That this cottage is
A Home Sweet Home indeed
And I will always remember
This scene I created and painted in my head
Perhaps this painted journeys
Will help my broken heart heal
And my broken wings mend
Whenever I think of
Sunset Cottage
~Marian~
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:18 PM UTC
The lotus dances on the lake at night
under the bright moon
and the water lily ballets upon the river
the fairies dance in the shadows of the moon
the flowers waltz in the meadow
and the moon casts its rays upon the ground
making the ground look like silvery
shadows of light hitting the
waltzing flowers
the sounds of crickets and that of katydids
and nighttime birds fill the
air
and the sweet fragrance of
lavender, lilacs, honeysuckles,
and roses fill the air
and the lotus continues
to dance on the lake
to the song of nighttime birds and insects
and the water lily continues
to ballet upon the river
to the song of the flowing river
that she ballets upon
only at night
~Hilda~
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
***She's an imp of a troublemaker fairy
they call her Heather Featherwand
she lives midst ancient ruins
'pon Saturn's ringlets
of ethereal ice & dust
you might get a peek at her
neath a summertide night's dream,
she wears lavender and tangerine
to blend in with the blazing cosmos,
her pale peachy butterfly wings
make sounds like katydids
singing in the treetops and
cicadas come to life at night
further adding to her mysterious flight,
she took off one day, they say
with the man in the moon
and they've been starstruck ever after***
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 6:05 PM UTC
And still I dream of stepping back into yesterday
Where time flowed so freely golden with serenity
We would sit in pine scented grove and sip lemonade
Our talk tranquil as sun dappled creek murmuring in quiet wood
Never arguing or complaining but flooded with blissful reverie
A time bygone and peaceful, learning to know each other again
Listening to the background symphony of cicadas and katydids
Poignantly nostalgic with yearnings of bygone days
Watching velvety dusk deepen into shades of whispering night
Relishing each breeze laden with moss and murmuring pine
Anticipating the dawn awakened by drowsy robins and wood thrush
Skies east to west stained with strawberry hues and dreams renewed
And still I shall dream on
~Hilda~
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
I felt like a backpacker that night.
I think it was the katydids.
At home it’s the frogs,
all shouting over each other, but somehow
finding a rhythm.
But here,
a pulse presses into me in my sleep
and I roll over to face the seething embers.
I know I’ve drawn things out with X,
but this is what narcissism means to me:
stoking the embers each time.
Tonight I am a backpacker
on the west side of a mountain.
Having slept through the sunset,
now I’m lying awake—
sleepless and small—
as ants find their way across my skin.
If they’re not sleeping, they must be working—
long jaunts between brief naps—
while the queen sleeps.
When I’m home,
I’ll close my windows and,
drown these embers in dry reds—
shiraz and merlot—
and sleep like the queen for once.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
It was just one of those days
when the haze of summer had just started to lull the suburbs
into a sticky heat
of grills and lawn mowers
of air conditioning
(everyone pretended not to use it; windows! barked the mothers, windows!)
and the sweat stuck to the brows
of the life guards
napping in the sun
above an empty pool
the Dawson pool.
No one ever swam there
and the lifeguards knew it
those teenagers, sunning themselves lazily on hot days like this
(and the mothers! They complained about the tans. Cancer! the said.
In a way they were right,
but really.)
The waters were clear but the fences were rusted
the diving boards were falling
throwing themselves off the deep end
Katydids
lawnmowers
those lazy days
and the mothers! the constant nagging of soccer moms
lulled around the pool
on the day
Cassandra
took her
last
swim
Her face was like shoe leather
tanned by no fewer than 98 summers spent on porch swings
plodded slowly,
like her feet were considering
every
last
step
this woman presented her 5 dollars to the girl at the gate
(some surprised lifeguard, because, you see, no one ever swam in Dawson pool)
and pushed inside.
Cassandra never left her porch.
and the mothers! how they scolded their children for teasing her
(even though they had done the same thing at that age.
That's how old Cassandra was).
Decades of the suburbs
and push mowers
and world wars
stayed like photograph around her face.
The lifeguards stared.
Cassandra kicked off her flip flops and shrugged off her mumu.
In a pink bathing suit she sank into the water.
The age melted off of her as she danced through the water
graceful
strong
the strokes were slow and deliberate
and the lifeguards watched as she pulled herself from one end of the pool to another and back.
She made 16 rings
remembering her childhood
23 more
for her marriage
and then 60
60 rings!
before she stopped.
60 years old, the year her husband died.
The year she had stopped talking
aside from the hushed prayers in church
but she was talking to him; that didn't count.
60 rings.
And Cassandra just disappeared.
No one found the body
no one found anything
aside from flip flops and a mumu.
The lifeguards were nearly scandalized
for letting Cassandra drown
but soon she went from a news story to a ghost
and the mothers! sniped at their children
for whispering
"Did you here about old Ms. Cassandra?
They say she found God."
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 7:03 PM UTC
Wind chimes softly sway in the warm breezes
Flowers grow in the fields with tall grass
Trees and roses bud
Water ripples and flows
Sunshine silently hits the ground
Clouds of fluffy white move across the sky
Birds sing in the tall green trees above
Springtime is here again for all
Little birdies build their nests
Daffodils and tulips waltz
Singing a song of Springtime
Watch the lilies bloom
Crocuses unfurl their petals
Crickets and katydids call
To one another on Spring Nights
Silently the Moon glides across the sky
All Night the beautiful Fairies sing
Waterfalls roar
Singing a glad anthem
Little creeks bubble and flow
'Tis a song of Spring
Sung by all
~Marian~
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
***The sun is setting in the pretty west
The colours reflect in the mountain stream
All the birds fly homeward to their warm nest
And I go homeward so I too can dream.
The katydids are calling from green grass
Mingles with the sound of the waterfall
Reminds me of golden days that have passed
I hear the beautiful wood thrush's call.
The lilacs fill my bedroom with perfume
Her petals were made by gifted fairies
I put her in a vase so she can bloom
All through my room her perfume carries.
God make my life to brighten other's more
I hear the sweet wood thrush's call no more.***
~Marian~
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 11:52 PM UTC
We were lying on the ground
Listening to the sound of driftwood
Cascading in the turquoise river
Taking in the beauty of the stars
While an orchestra of whippoorwills
And katydids sung the birds to sleep
We listened as the owls hooted in the darkness
And tree frogs warned us that spring is here
The beauty of that spring night
The softness of that tender grass
Like a pillow against my head
The fragrance of dewy lavender
Still lingers with me in my mind
Creating such a pleasant scene
As soothing as music to the soul
Creating such beautiful dreams
That dance inside my head at night
~Marian~
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
:::::
This afternoon gets warmer by the hour,
weird, sweaty, sere ground.....no water,
not even a shy wind to blow a feather
an unwanted restrain....very much, a tether
senses seem numbed.....unaware,
:::::
suddenly,
clouds part....in a flick of a finger,
a bolt of lightning.....then, roars the thunder
sweet energy cracks in a simple quiver
:::::
tap ruptures........rain pours
releasing scent of sweet petrichor
withered soil and rain unite
nourishing roses...yellow, pink, white
soul is sparked....instantly inspired
::::::
suddenly,
eyes and mind are drunk, yet, they concur
bulging with ideas and images without blur
all are energized by the miraculous rainwater
:::::
suddenly,
behind the wet bushes, an open mic unfolds,
frogs' croaks alternate with lizards' call...behold,
up the trees, crickets, katydids sing relentlessly
ahhh, a kind wind....it's a bit colder...finally
:::::
where sun dips, and beyond...amidst a cold
dark, a slam poetry session is live, where the bold
ones hiss, shriek, or sing in monotones...no rules,
all do their thing at the same time.......like fools.
:::::
rain has stopped, folks are out, taking it easy
............mosquitoes are ever ready
this night.....could really be ****** :)
:::::
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 6, 2018---
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 8:53 PM UTC
*Evergreen soldiers at the whim of Alraus
I've had a recurrent dream of the enlisted warriors
abandoning their post , occupying the fertile grassland
in a chess type move to gain control
Free of shade , of root-bound thirst , of choking
moss gathering unchallenged in overpopulated arbors
A celebration courtesy of the Robin Knights , the Chickadee troubadours ,
the Cardinal gentlemen at the Court of Queen Chestnut
Slash , sugar , loblolly and white oak
Persimmon , hickory , honey locust and dogwood
The myrrh of gardenia , magnolia , honeysuckle and tea rose
Earthen red clay , white sand , black loam and kaolin
Grasshopper cellist , cricket flautist , a chuckling crow with a
Spanish guitar
The toad trombones , a bluebird violin solo , a mockingbird reads
a touching poem that even sways the worker ants into a brief pause
The Old Forest becomes pasture and the grassland young woodland
The dove cue the night , the katydids croon to the moon ,
the bullfrogs 'pooka-dooka' and the lovers swoon* ...
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
**From mountains to rills,
A sweet anthem fills the air,
Sweet birds are flying.
Down the avalanche,
Gallops beautiful horses,
Jumping and running.
The cute squirrel,
Jumping sings from tree to tree,
And chasing it's friends.
In the dark forest,
The smell of honeysuckles,
Makes the forest sweet.
I love Nature dear,
From mountains to meadows,
Fields of sweet flowers!
Down in the valley,
Beautiful flowers will bloom,
In Springtime.
The sweet waterfall,
With it's moss-covered boulders,
Makes things beautiful!
The sweet humming bird,
Flys from flower to flower,
Gathering nectar.
At pretty nighttime,
The owls hoot in the night,
And sweet birds do sleep.
The full moon at night,
Sweetly looks down on houses,
Watching children sleep.
The sound of crickets,
Birds, toads, and katydids,
Make a pretty song!**
~Marian~
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 11:54 AM UTC
Part I
Cicadas and katydids
Sing from the branches of the lilac bush
And whippoorwills call
From the lacy green weeping willow tassels
And fragrant buds unfurl their petals
While owls hoot to each other
And the Moon looks silently on
While Fairies dance and sing
And I watch the Fairies dance
On the enchanted Moonlit Forest path
And as they dance they sing their enchanting lullaby
And hush the whole world to sleep with a sweet "goodnight"
~Marian~
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
*Soft rays of light
Dance tenderly in my room at Night
Casting shadows on the ground
And on the floor of my bedroom
Late at Night the Fairies dance
In those rays
The caressing breeze
Waltz through the treetops
While streetlights like crystals shine
All Night long
Little owls in the trees
Hoot and call to each other
Crickets, katydids and tree toads
Sing late at Night
In the softly stirring breeze*
~Marian~
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 11:43 AM UTC
The first calls of the katydid
It's a mystical affair
One that marks the summer
and swells through the air
Like a thousand tiny whispers
forming one booming voice
So nice to hear the summer night
Embrace the stars and rejoice.
Sticky humid evenings
where the ceiling fans hum
and the moths dance around the bare bulbs
and my eyelids start to strum
It's a wondrous cacophony
of love, of muse, of hope
One I could not describe to you
The sheer inhuman scope
I am a girl of two lives
One tortured, one free
Somewhere between rich wilderness
and a fairylit city
And you can always join me
If you're ready for the ride.
In an odyssey of summers
where night and dreams collide
The sleepy call of firelight
It crackles through the gloom
Lights our eyes rich amber
as they reflect the golden plumes
If I could spend every night
in the company of friends
A novel or a notebook
What comfort that they lend
Some days I live for Summer
And anxiety's reprieve
Where all my worldly troubles
pack up and take their leave
And dash off on the frost
scattering to leave the room
Until next September
but that won't be coming soon
If you would like to join me
You can always find me here
I want to lend you my hand
I want to lend you my ear
I'll always be there
when you need someone near
Cause I've been there
And I'm here, I'm alright
And if I can make it, you can
Just wait for the summer nights
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
*Butterfly flit across the meadow grass
As evening curtains begin to close
Crickets and Katydids sing
And Firefly dance about
The black vestment of
The night.*
Тадеус
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
Premonition
by Michael R. Burch
Now the evening has come to a close and the party is over ...
we stand in the doorway and watch as they go—
each stranger, each acquaintance, each unembraceable lover.
They walk to their cars and they laugh as they go,
though we know their bright laughter’s the wine ...
then they pause at the road where the dark asphalt flows
endlessly on toward Zion ...
and they kiss one another as though they were friends,
and they promise to meet again “soon” ...
but the rivers of Jordan roll on without end,
and the mockingbird calls to the moon ...
and the katydids climb up the cropped hanging vines,
and the crickets chirp on out of tune ...
and their shadows, defined by the cryptic starlight,
seem spirits torn loose from their tombs.
And I know their brief lives are just eddies in time,
that their words are unreadable runes
unlikely to stand in this waterlogged land
when their corpses lie ravaged and ruined ...
You take my clenched fist and you give it a kiss
as though it’s something to be loved,
and the tears fill your eyes, outshining the night
and all the stars ringed high above ...
and you whisper, "It's time that we went back inside;
if you'd like, we can sit and just talk for a while."
And the hope in your eyes burns too deep, so I lie
and I say, "Yes, I would," to your small, troubled smile.
I vividly remember writing this poem after an office party the year I co-oped with AT&T (at that time the largest company in the world, with a lot of office parties). This was after my sophomore year in college, making me around 20 years old. The poem is “true” except that I was not the host because the party was at the house of one of the managers. Nor was I dating anyone seriously at the time.
Keywords/Tags: premonition, foreboding, time, loss, death, office party, wine, laughter, shadows
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 5:15 AM UTC
Barred Owl , Nighthawk ambient harmony ..The crash of Shellcracker
over smoky waters , the footsteps of Gray Fox and Blue Heron
audible along the shallows .. Wind swept expressions carry through statued marsh , Tree frogs , Katydids and Cicadas fill the young nightfall with varied chantey as white stars cross the impeccable , woodland firmament ..
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 10:51 PM UTC
***A call from the rills,
The sweet sounding anthem trills,
A sweet melody!
From breezes to wind,
Mother Nature embraces,
Beautiful Nature!
Anthem of praise,
Echos from Mountains to rills,
From meadows to fields!
A sweet melody,
Birds sweetly singing in trees,
The sun shines brightly!
A dome of Nature,
A cathedral of swet praise,
A dome of anthem!
Every creature,
Has it's own sweet song to sing,
Nature of sweet song!
Katydids and bees,
Crickets and the kittycats,
All beautifully sing!***
~Marian~
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
My hubsy and I went for a moonlit stroll
graceful billowy branches gently ripple above us
Black swans sailing in the moonlight
Squawking sounds of katydids, crickets, frogs
sawing zzz's and occasional loud drone of
rap music cut through, punctuated the
brisk night air
As we meandered our shadows
grew taller, towering temple steeples
stretching across patchy luminescent streets
We even caught a fleeting glimpse of our
silver sillhouettes superimposed
like Milky Way gods over the heavens
I looked at my darling spouse, heart palpitating
my hand tucked cozily into his
"We are Vast Beings David," I whispered tenderly
"So much more that we realize."
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 12:53 AM UTC
*Lantern flies descending from Water Oak canopies , hopeful Thrushes cry for Heavens hidden stellary
A seemingly placid pond becomes Molasses , quivers and grows eerie in wavering moonshine , Whippoorwills relay songs of the Creek Indian nighttime
Katydids , Field Crickets and Barn Owls fill Magnolia , Wilkerson Mill promenades , Shellcracker disquiet the countryside with topwater
explosions of hunger and predation* ...
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:58 AM UTC
That morning, sound was a spear of melted glass
pouring down over the mountainside.
The treetops don't hiss anymore with crying katydids,
the bird songs even are beginning to dwindle- as they
cast their voices across the sky, pulling away.
And as the world grows quiet, the visions get loud
black trees cut blue and yellow skies
ice on the corners of your car window
a reminder of what's coming
in litotes
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC