Ashley Somebody May 2014

I fell for you
like a moth to the light.

Moths die.
Eleanor Rigby Aug 2014

I come from darkness
And such as a moth
Beating itself
To death
Against a flame,
In your arms, I burn
Just the same.


F.Z.N

Katzenberg Jul 2014

I saw you fallen in front of me
motionless and in grief
your only hope has faded
your little life is diminished.

For a split second I see
a tiny flap of wings
clumsy and weak
I hear your voice within me.

"Is it all you can do for me?"
"Why are you taking me?"
"You got a light?"
"Your hands are so warm..."


Moth, moth... can you stand still?
there is no light in here
Moth, moth... do you ever sleep?
live one day and forever be.

(I know nothing about poetry,  just write what and how it comes to my mind,  hope you like my debut in here.)
A Mareship Jul 2014

this dust-rolled
brown moth
is
patterned
with a band of white
to stand for winter,
when it was just a flimsy bundle
of gristle and sticks

and all the boys in the summertime are sticky and
unclean
like the mouths of dogs -
pink where the sun can't lick

the backs of their necks are baked red brick

girls wear bronzer
piled on thick.

Hannah Jade Jan 2015

First she ate too much,
Then not enough.
She closed herself off from the world.
Wrapped herself in a cocoon of doubt.
She was an odd little caterpillar,
That gave up on ever becoming a butterfly.

I'm not in the brightest of places...
Lawrence Wentzz Jul 2014

Hang me up to dry
Killers in our summer clothes.
A moth is dancing at the only
lightbulb in the dark.
I’m moving stoned,
looking at the white of your eyes.
You woke me up too many times.
Now I don’t sleep anymore
and I think only at freedom
but I follow just the moth.
There’s nothing to do here;
I am only happy in bed,
in the bed of your mind.
Everywhere else i’ll die in mistery.
But tomorrow is to die,
today is to live,
to let your heart
enjoy the moth.

e l e n i Jul 2014

Your hand rests limply
Across my waist
A cacophony of thoughts
Our hearts beat at different rates

We search for the light
Like dusty moths
Floating broken
And drifting off

On top of the sheets
Listening to the world outside
I traced the features of your face
With my rough fingertips

We gravitate towards happiness
And do what's in our power
To find the light that never goes out
The light inside each other

It is late and I've been dreaming
So the string of thoughts is tangled
But I think from now on I'll keep
A lighter beside my candle.

Dot Dec 2014

With dusty wings
and awkward flight
Your tiny buffalo body
bounces on the
delicate glass surface.
An exaggerated shadow
announces your plight.
Is it the beauty of
the butterfly
that spurs you.
Why so frustrated;
so persistent?
Do you know of emotion?
Maybe you do,
and it is your own
dark turmoil
that draws you to the
glass skirted flame.

Dhaye May 2014

Like a moth
blinded by such froth
wished to touch the flame.
Wrapped with swath
Burnt wings dropped the cloth
Time to take the blame...

A response poem to "Jack and Jill" of Ae.
Kavita Dec 2013

Moth, dancing moth,
dance to the light. Dance to the death.
Break those wings to free the flight,
the sea is far and here is no hearth, not here.

Fly, moth, fly
away from the lilted breeze so to breathe easy.
Your heart is in shock; Moth, go back to
from where you come.

Moth, falling moth,
no crevice in sight, dear moth—where has your illusion
gone? Moth don’t waste time, hurry yourself and
cease the end, in through the spaces and far from time.

Wingless moth, pained.
The light shines only on you. What disturbance (perturbing the soul)
held moth back?

Amanda Small Oct 2012

nights fall heavy lidded
October leaves rustle beneath my skin.

samasati Sep 2012

there’s a moth crawling up my kitchen wall

I had the sudden urge to kill it

smother it with a kleenex

swat it with a rolled up magazine

it keeps crawling up

losing its steadiness, almost falling

then regaining its steadiness again

moths freak me out

they look creepy

they look fragile

they look contaminated

perhaps they are contaminated with curiosity

so am I

their flickering flame is my flickering self-sabotage

I had an urge

I wanted to kill it

I’m just like this curious creature

just as fragile

just as contaminated

I might as well be looking in a mirror

and I had the urge to kill it

Eliot Greene Dec 2013

When you shed that chrysalis of clothing
Releasing the dragonfly wings of your longing
Wholly among the sanctity of your skystrung ribs
Your hips gyrating on the revolutions of the moon
The astronomer in my belly burns to look up to the sky
And see you spreading yourself among the singing night

My fingers, matches skywriting  
The contours of your body
With the lingerings of fire
Nails soft scratching the runes of desire
Among the hidden temples of your skin
A secret language you twistup and rumble
In like the sea swallowing a storm
Inviting me to wade in your waters
Till the lighting comes
To reunite you with the heavens

Let me lick a long crusade
From summit of spine down
The long whirling dervish of your legs
Relight wildfires only to douse them in all
The tsunami of your wet
And wash you in the convergence of thunder
As it rumbles among the fault lines of your bones
Till we rattle the pearly gates loose
And quake the caverns of hell

Grind yourself upon me into
Something so much
Sweeter then stardust
Break your body open
Into a firefly and ignite
Upon the rough embers of my wings
This friction will elicit a diction
Spoken only in vowels and the
And in the crescent arch of your spine
As we sling ourselves skyward as fireworks
To rupture open the night

Suffocate me on the whirlwind mane of your hair
There is a lioness behind those lips waiting to devour me
A sacred hunting upon moonlight to take me in the dark

Don’t you see
All of this is yours
The rumble of the earth
The heavy breath of the heavens
The match
The candle
And the sweet rush of the burn

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