Around a flowering tree, one finds many insects.
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Around a flowering tree, there are many insects.
I Have To Walk Away Again Looking For The Fresh Air
one finds a hard time nowadays
looking for fresh air
i step over a good view of the rice fields
from an Asian perspective
the rice fields are flowering
dews still sticking on the blades of grass
the sun is slowly rising from the mountains
a lot of fog hang on the sides
coconut trees are towering
not much winds today from the sea
a middle aged farmer stands under a tree
with his sweater on and his long bolo on his side
smoking his cigar
the woman in the house is cooking mud fish for breakfast
meanwhile she goes out and
starts a fire under the mango tree
burning a rubber tire
to drive some insects away
which she thinks are destroying
the tiny white flowers of
the tree
i smell the smoke coming from the cigar
it is floating in the air
the smoke from the rubber tire burning
is choking me
somehow that is what is being done to this world
brought about by ignorance and superstition and bad habits
i have to walk away again
looking for the fresh air
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When The First Heat Comes
When the first heat comes, the winter starts to disappear
weeds and flowers appear everywhere,
fruit trees are flowering,
when the first signs of spring appears,
with the sun flowering in crimson
you are astounded by the many colours
of flowers dazzling glorious in sunshine,
birds sing before the sun rises,
when the first heat comes,
the last stripped branches has disappeared,
the sky becomes a cobalt blue curtain,
you are astounded
by the insects and birds that are gathering in joy,
are caught in the scent of jasmine,
when the first heat comes.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My beautiful flowering trees
My beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall buy some land
Plant countless seeds
And watch them grow
Into beautiful flowering trees
A cool breeze
Will bring me
Sweet fragrances
From a thousand flowering trees
I shall listen
To the songs
From birds perched
In the tall flowering trees
I shall play
With my children and theirs
In the vast expanse of green
Amongst beautiful flowering trees
One day I shall rest
Passing into oblivion
My ashes scattered
Amidst the beautiful flowering trees
by Ash (Rishi's Dad)
poem by Rishi Menon
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Insects
Tiny insects in my hair
Tiny insects everywhere
Tiny insects in my pants
Watching insects make romance
Insects make me make me want to dance dance dance
They make want to dance . . .
Flying insects everywhere
Flying insects buzzing buzzing buzzing thru the air
Just like little diamonds in the sky
Insects buzzing in my eye
Buzzing insects make me want to dance dance dance
They make me want to dance . . .
Insects crawling all around
Insects squirming in the ground
Insects gooey squeaky chewy
Should I eat them--no
Id rather stomp them hurt them stomp
Stomp them while I dance dance dance
I hurt them while I dance dance dance
I stomp them while I dance dance dance . . .
Insects make me scream and shout
They dont know what lifes about
They dont have blood
Theyve got too many legs
They dont have brains in their heads
They know theyll rule the world some day
They bite and sting me anyway
They bite and sting and suck
They bite and sting and suck suck suck
They bite and sting and
Suck suck suck suck suck . . .
Dance dance dance
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time of the Oak
At the end of my fence there is a beautiful big oak tree
It has withstood all weathers remaining proud and free
The trees bark is overgrown with wild ivy and faded
It's never alone because many insects and critters invaded
I often see the sparkling eyes of a racoon at twilight
Or an opossum hanging from a branch holding on tight
Thousands of insects and birds visited over the years
Because the tree provides shade and shelter it appears
I often think of trimming it but I do not have the heart
Leaving nature alone seems to be the way that's smart
During fall I usually get mad because of the falling leaves
But I enjoy watching the squirls taking acorns like thieves
The old tree has seen different times and past generations
It has fought with the wind and endured heat with patience
The oak spreaded out and with majestic posture it stands
The tree is a statement of time without making demands
During a storm I know I am safe if the oak tree survives
Because it has conquered time - being part of many lives
I am waiting for whispers of ancient secrets it may shares
Telling me about natures yet undiscovered evolutionary affairs
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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I Am The Last Flower Of This Flowering Season
i am the last flower of this flowering season!
&
I am the last flower of this flowering season
and my tree and the season looks jaded and tired-
there is none to take leave of
nor anyone to see me off
when the softest wind would gently snap my ties
with the slender stalk that dreamily holds me aloft
and send me in swirling descent
for a final kiss of the earth
at the end of my daydreams in light and air-
the nature's harsh laws have no mercy
once the youth and beauty evaporate in hours
between sunrise and set, unlocking frial bonds-
the tree, my bearer, seems to have no tears for me;
seems to treat all in philosophical silence-
let me fill the air and space with fragrance and colours
in the fleeting moments of my brief journey
before my hour is done!
&
----s.chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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That Knows
the face in the mirror,
grows darker with time...
deep and grainy,
weathered and beaten.
the trunk of an old tree,
where birds hide their nests,
and squirrels meet to plot
the downfall of man.
hollowed and sketched,
with dignity unspoken,
the scars of love and wars,
where insects breed and whisper.
and time itself,
bows in awe and respect,
for the tree that knows
itself to be a tree!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The hoopoe
Every time that I mow the lawn
he waits in a tree
on me to finish
and there are times
that he gets impatient
and his hoopoe resounds.
Just when I walk away
he flies fluttering down
and pecks everywhere
to get worms
and insects
and I see his orange brown quiff
standing up
and it’s as if his body
glows shimmering orange
and there are black and white stripes
going to the points
of his wings
while like a woodpecker
he hits his bill
here and there into the ground
and like a chicken
pecking up seed
picks up insects from the ground.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Poet Finds....
The poet finds whatever the moon could not see,
The poet finds whatever the earth does not know,
The poet finds whatever the sun could not see,
The poet finds whatever others do not know,
The poet finds whatever the stars could not see,
So why do the heathen rage and the people plot vanity? !
For she who is pregnant is closer to us,
And the hart pants after streams of water.
Your tears have been your food night and day,
And like your inner self in the lan dof your muse;
But the poet finds whatever the sun could not see.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The car of Johnny staying at home
The car of Johnny staying at home
takes the garden route
and the old green wheelbarrow creaks
while I fill it up
with weeds.
I pull a lever
and like magic sprinklers appear
in the garden
and the two cats
run moaning out of the water,
before the dogs
rollick barking in it.
I am angry with the Indian Miners, rats,
insects and snails
that eats holes out of my ripe tomatoes
and even wreck the spinach
before they are even ripe
and I wonder if I am farming
for myself and my darling
or the wild animals
and who really are going to eat the fruit?
There are sparrows and doves
in the branches of the pepper tree
that are peering and waiting
for me to throw out some seed
and it’s getting white hot
while the sun
rises higher in the sky
and I enjoy
dark red roses, purple irises
and orange, white and pink
geraniums that are all flowering.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Wattlebirds Kept Busy All The Day
The wattlebirds kept busy all the day
From flowering gum trees chasing them away
But wattlebirds though big are not so fleet
And they can't catch purple crowned lorikeet.
Green neck and back and shoulder patch green brown
And reddish face and purple patch on crown
And orange patch on neck and undersides light blue
They live in small flocks as most small lories do.
These lorikeets in many places rare
But in You Yangs park one sees them everywhere
They feed in groups and fly from tree to tree
And make much noise and prove quite hard to see.
Gregarious birds they spend their daylight hours
Taking nectar from the eucalyptus flowers
And wattlebirds kept busy all the day
From flowering gum trees chasing them away.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Elm tree and Termites
This highly destructive insects which are not true ants
But the innocent tree doesn't know about their cruelty
And she provided them shelter in a rain.
The colony consists of Queen & King, wingless sterile workers and soldiers.
The ungrateful visitors started their job secretly
Until the tree collapsed to the ground pathetically.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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cherry tree bent –
on grandma's temples
flowering branches
haiku by Alexandru Răduț (2020)
Submitted by Andreea Stein
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Insects are my secret fear. That's what terrifies me more than anything - insects.
quote by Michael O'Donoghue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It began as this desire to do this science fiction movie about perhaps one of the last insects left that nobody's done anything on, which is the cockroach - and truly one of the most frightening insects.
quote by Michael O'Donoghue
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obsessed With Incestuous Love
Why obsess something that is relative?
Everyone has their own fetishes.
But I will say this,
Having that kind of a love for 'insects'...
Is a bit extreme.
'Incest.
Not insects.
I said they were obsessed with incestuous love.
I aint mad at 'em.
What they do they do.
I could care less how or who they hop around with.'
Oh?
So you're one of those 'tomato' tomahto...
'Potato' potahto people.
'One has nothing to do with the other.
Normally they have wings.
I am not referring to insects but to incest.
What I refer to has arms and legs,
And struts around naked like no one knows.'
You buggin' today, huh?
Let it go, my brother.
Let it go.
It will be okay.
It doesn't pay to put that kind of stress on yourself.
Trust me.
Slowly...
Just let it go.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's not the monkey on top that make a tree fall but it's the work and effort of numerous small insects and ants.
When I was only three I planted a tree
When I was three I planted a tree. This was my tree and together we would always be. I gave it love and it to me, and so we were happy, me and my tree.
Then one day they came to see me and my tree. Men with no faces, and they said to me, you must go, and leave this tree.
Buy why I ask. For we've done no harm. Me and my tree, please let us be.
So they left us alone, me and my tree, but only for a while but I could not see.
Then one day they came and took me away. My tree was needed to save the day. Goods it will make it makes perfect sense. So we will take this tree, for wood we need. And so it was done, they took my tree.
And now I look around, my tree I no longer see. Taken from, this tree I planted when I was three.
poem by Brad Milner
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When dusk creeps through the windows
When dusk creeps through the windows
with the big old oak tree etched against the sky,
the eastern horizon gleams outside,
the morning star hangs is a beacon that bridges the night,
while the golden moon fades away
with the big old oak tree etched against the sky
the night is driven away, chased
by the sun rising burning
while the golden moon fades away,
the morning is fresh like an unfolding flower
while the birds, the insects, the animals are woken
by the sun rising burning
with blinding white light, stretching out its rays
and I am getting awake
while the birds, the insects, the animals are woken
and the day has already belted its gleaming chord.
When dusk creeps through the windows
and I am getting awake
the eastern horizon gleams outside.
poem by Gert Strydom
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