Ladybirds
If, upon you, a ladybird, lightly, lands,
Don't just brush it off with your hands.
Chances are, that its visit will be short,
Once it realises it is at the wrong port.
For the ladybird, we seem to have a soft spot,
But for worrying wasps, we certainly have not.
Ladybirds often feature in stories for the young,
And, as a result, their praises are frequently sung.
To ladybirds, we have quite an attraction,
But wasps do not evoke the same reaction.
Dressed in its shiny shell of bright, rich red,
The ladybird possesses a tiny, tickling tread.
Upon seeing a ladybird, a wish, you should make,
Then your wish will be granted, in the bug's wake.
If you kill one, then, for you, life will be really bad;
Misfortune will come your way, and make you sad.
A ladybird will never do you any harm;
It is considered, by some, a lucky charm.
If, towards a ladybird, you are kind,
A place up in Heaven, you will find.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ladybird
O ladybird
I have heard you wish to walk me through your garden
I crave your pardon if I woke you with my thinking
Ladybird
O ladybird
I have heard you wish to walk me through your meadow
Youll spread no wings to fly in fright if Im beside you
Ladybird
All through the winter time
When wood was warm and splintered
Time seemed longer than a goods train
Now that spring is back again Ill ask your name
Your name
O ladybird
I have heard you wish to walk across my pillow
No weeping willow was ever as beautiful, sad as you are
Ladybird
And as youre walking past
Im laying on the grass and making chains of thought
To snare you with my wit
But bit by bit you fade to gone
Gone
All through the iron season
Love was hanged and treason became
Something of a parlour game
Now sun is back in power Ill ask your name
Your name
O ladybird
I have heard you have to run to tend your children
No flood can drown nor fire blacken purest longing
For ladybird
Ladybird
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ladybird
Tell me a story of mind over matter
The hope and glory of life ever after
The sound and the fury the cloak and the dagger
Days when we sink like a stone
Porcelain portraits and silver medallions
Plasticine soldiers that march in battalions
Angels of mercy and lifelong companions
Days when we sink like a stone
There a room somewhere with a different look
Where your secret life is an open book
Where the love we made was a chance we took
Days when we sink like a stone
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Let us be lovers we'll melt after midnight
Hoist up the mainsail we'll coast through the daylight
Twisted like candles that fade in the half-light
Days when we sink like a stone
Well we die sometimes to begin again
When the same old dreams have the same old end
When we lose our mind or we lose our friends
Days when we sink like a stone
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
Your friends have gone
Porcelain portraits and silver medallions
Your friends have gone
Plasticine soldiers that march in battalions
Your friends have gone
Angels of mercy and lifelong companions
Tell me a story of mind over matter
The hope and glory of life ever after
The sound and the fury the cloak and the dagger
Ladybird fly away our friends are gone
Ladybird fly away our house is on fire
song performed by by Tears For Fears
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Caught A Little Ladybird
I caught a little ladybird
That flies far away;
I caught a little lady wife
That is both staid and gay.
Come back, my scarlet ladybird,
Back from far away;
I weary of my dolly wife,
My wife that cannot play.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hunger For Thy Words
I hunger for thy words
Time passes eternal
Pray sing my ladybird
Mine agony’s infernal
poem by Ray Lucero
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Hurt No Living Thing
Hurt no living thing:
Ladybird, nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing,
Nor cricket chirping cheerily,
Nor grasshopper so light of leap,
Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat,
Nor harmless worms that creep.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Welcomed Intruder
She flew in from the Countryside,
She flew in through my front door,
She whizzed around my kitchen,
She skimmed across my floor.
She totally took over,
As if she knew the place,
Speed seemed to be of the essence,
To make this room her base.
I felt completely gob-smacked,
She took me by surprise,
This ladybird, there on my plant,
Scoffed my aphids as a prize.
A small and harmless insect,
With a penchant for a 'grand tour',
If she ever calls on me again,
She'll be welcome, that's for sure!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Lady Capulet: Nurse, where’s my daughter? Call her forth to me.
Nurse: Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old, I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird! God forbid! Where’s this girl? What, Juliet!
line from Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1597)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Proposal
Who will marry me, said the flea,
Why ever should I, said the fly,
I would willingly give you a hug, said the bug,
That would be nice, said the wood lice,
I could sit down beside her, said the spider,
Well I certainly can't, said the ant,
Well of course you can't, that's absurd, said the ladybird,
Whoever does will come a cropper, said the grasshopper,
I think one should take heed, said the centipede,
I wouldn't for a thousand quid, said the aphid,
She's got a tongue like a rasp, said the wasp,
Oh, I shall remain free, said the bee,
I think you're probably right, said the mite,
All I can say is, she's a killer, said the caterpillar,
She'll suck you dry!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Sonny! One day you too push me when I struggle on my Wheelchair
When I pushed my Grandson's Pram
I do remember now what I told;
Sorry, I have no any regrets my son
I am proud that you're being a Pilot!
And I know that you have a limited time of Freedom
When that Exists suddenly you run to your nest
I understand the Ladybird waits for you.
Your poor Grandma also old now
And she struggles to pass a silky thread
Through eye of the needle!
And I too already threequarter senile
But still I remember your name my son.
If you find a better place in your flying career
Which is not in the given map,
Your poor Grandma and the jigsaw Grandpa
Could have wait for a while at a stopover
Until your pretty Alloy-bird safely lands!
* To the poetess Unwritten Soul [PH] in gratitude!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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An enviromental Poem
In your garden, in your house
Tip-toe quietly like a mouse.
You never know what you might find
A squirrel, a dog, or an animal of a different kind!
Out in the bushes, behind the trees
Get down quietly on your knees.
You might see an ant going back to its nest,
Or maybe a robin with its bright red breast.
In the greenhouse where lots of things grow
There are more than just plants in there, you know!
If you look closely you will see lots of things,
Maybe a ladybird with its transparent wings!
In your garden, in your house
Tip-toe quietly like a mouse.
You never know what you might find
A squirrel, a dog, or an animal of a different kind!
poem by Bethan Linscott
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Lay still my beating heart!
Beneath the white-wet dew-lit foxgloves,
The lichens and apricot boughs
Beneath the dusky gray church-cock tower
And the ambient wet westward clouds,
Lay still my beating heart!
As silence wrestles with silence taut
As topaz ladybird march unduly
Through the myriad ichors of lustrous web
Through a needle of time unraveling,
Lay still my beating heart!
poem by Mark Heathcote
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A ladybird in the grass! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Sitting by a forest brook
On the grass under a tree;
Just my little girl and me
I read to her from a book.
Suddenly she called from afar.
Ladybird, lady bird in the grass.
She picked and put it in her palms
And then carefully kept it in a jar.
While feeding it some grass
Looking puzzled she asked me:
How did it get its name nani?
Is it because its dainty she asked.
It does have wings, I said.
It’s just a colourful insect
Yet isn’t it so very perfect?
God has made it well dressed.
Perhaps that’s why the name.
Maybe it’s really no mistake.
She bit into her cup cake
And said it’s all the same.
Dear, God has eyes for details.
Whether it’s a creature big or small
You know, He loves them all.
She nodded and shook her pig tails.
Intrigued I searched the net.
Found myths and beliefs abound
Held in high esteem all-round.
By then Anika had named her pet.
poem by Mamta Agarwal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bugs (On a Summer's Day)
On any hot and sunny, summer's day,
Millions of bugs appear, to work and play.
Butterflies flit to and fro: they flit high and flit low;
Bringing a touch of beauty, wherever they may go.
Crimson red, with little black spots, is the ladybird.
My whole face lights up, whenever it's name is heard.
The honey bees, are industrious in their work:
Their responsibilities, they never ever shirk.
Then there's the ant, aka the earth excavation engineer;
One, I can stand, but a whole army feels me with fear.
I freeze with fear, when by a wilful wasp, I'm pursued.
They hang around, even when I don't have any food.
Likewise, different species of fly, varying in shape and size,
Look for food - to keep it covered, you'd be extremely wise.
Hoverflies, however, do pretty much as their name suggests,
But, unlike wasps, who look quite similar, they are not pests.
Storm flies may well be extremely tiny and titch,
But when they crawl on you, they don't half itch!
Outdoors, I dash away, if the sound of buzzing gets too close;
'Ha! I chased her away! ' the insects, to each other, I bet, boast!
Tiny bugs, which crawl about in my hair,
Is one thing which, I really can not bear.
Woodlice, however, do not like the scorching sun,
And, if disturbed, to a new shelter, they'll quickly run.
Lacewings look pretty, with wings, all delicate and lacy,
But emitting a nasty smell to predators, they aren't tasty.
In the evening, Grasshoppers and crickets chirp away,
Signalling the closing in of yet another summer's day.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Dumb Soldier
When the grass was closely mown,
Walking on the lawn alone,
In the turf a hole I found
And hid a soldier underground.
Spring and daisies came apace;
Grasses hid my hiding-place;
Grasses run like a green sea
O'er the lawn up to my knee.
Under grass alone he lies,
Looking up with leaden eyes,
Scarlet coat and pointed gun,
To the stars and to the sun.
When the grass is ripe like grain,
When the scythe is stoned again,
When the lawn is shaven clear,
Then my hole shall reappear.
I shall find him, never fear,
I shall find my grenadier;
But, for all that's gone and come,
I shall find my soldier dumb.
He has lived, a little thing,
In the grassy woods of spring;
Done, if he could tell me true,
Just as I should like to do.
He has seen the starry hours
And the springing of the flowers;
And the fairy things that pass
In the forests of the grass.
In the silence he has heard
Talking bee and ladybird,
And the butterfly has flown
O'er him as he lay alone.
Not a word will he disclose,
Not a word of all he knows.
I must lay him on the shelf,
And make up the tale myself.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Wasp
Her slender waist resembles a wasp
And she goes on the muddy road never stops.
Unlike bees, wasps are largely carnivorous
And their species, digger wasps, sand wasps & mud wasps
But you are a kind woman and I am sure you do not have a formidable sting
Please do not hurt me as I am scared of wasps.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Life Was Dozing, The Lady-bird Flew Over The Verge Of The Death
The world was dozing,
It was tired and worn.
“Man is supported by man,
A fence – by blackthorn! ”
That precept was well-known,
But entirely forgotten…alas!
The death, too, slumbered,
The day was colorless…
The guys remaining chums
By chance,
Had washed away all their talent
And all their heavenly donation,
Women and girls scattered in the streets
Were seized by the shameful passion.
Men wanted to whitewash themselves in solitude,
They craved for solitude, for isolation.
The current – slow, calm, but yet naughty,
Suppressed them… they were tied to the life,
They were tied by the bonds of obligation.
The world was taken ill with despair,
Roar was heard, all was alarmed,
Life was dozing… slumbered the world,
Over the verge of the death
Flew the ladybird.
Hope twinkled on that path,
Cosmic mists brought relief…
And the fables of the Doomsday
Were woven there –
Fate, Future, and Belief.
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Damsel's Solemn Wish
As lovebirds shew affection for its mate in the wild,
I ponder of thy loving arms that embraced;
With a love so chaste and soothfast
doting with little knowledge.
Now I find myself laying by the meadows secluded.
An abnormal love for night I turned,
And indite these lines alow descending night.
Yet so fond of solitary moon so wane,
saw a shooting star luminously explode.
And makes a wish unto thee,
Of your pilgrim soul's arrival hither hills
Where we once grew in aroha
And played by the shrubs therewithal,
Your vigor wherefrom you'd catch me a ladybird,
Moments we went berrying,
And passed valleys for quest unknown,
And youthful we reached by the hills
Whence you depart somewhither;
With nothingness left in me to grin.
And these I wish upon the shooting star,
'A damsel wait for her swain be met',
Yet I know of your nihility as I turn grey.
poem by Sukkum Chang
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Bees
Bees are messengers from up above:
Filled with goodness and with love.
Unlike wasps, they mean us no harm:
They are more friendly and have charm.
On fine, silvery wings, the bees take flight,
When the sun's warm rays are shining bright.
They collect up the pollen in their sacs,
Then, to their hives, they take it back.
They carry out their duties with a smile;
Their souls full of cheer all the while.
With keenness, they carry out their work;
Their responsibilities, they do not shirk.
Bees have such an important role to play:
We would be doomed if they died away.
Plants and flowers would cease to grow,
And supplies of foodstuffs would soon be low.
Of bees, there is no need for us to be scared;
About their work, they passionately do care.
If we leave these dedicated workers well alone,
Near to us humans, they will not dare to roam.
They will not sting us, unless they're provoked,
For them, using their sting is certainly no joke.
If a bee ever stings you, you may well cry,
But the poor old bee, well, it would then die.
Unlike wasps, bees are not considered pests,
Even though they are very similarly dressed.
Bees are really fabulous, bees are really brill:
A bee, you should never ever, on purpose, kill.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wasps!
I’m walking home, along the road,
Carrying my shopping; a heavy load.
I hear a buzzing sound right by my ear,
And my whole body fills with fear.
Without even looking, I know what is there.
I’m afraid that it will get caught in my hair.
I stand there stock still and totally freeze;
I’m terrified of wasps, but don’t mind bees.
A frown appears upon my face and I pray,
That this worrying wasp, will soon go way.
Soon, he loses interest and gets off my case,
But, even so, I purposefully quicken my pace.
The wasp disappears and I’m on my own again,
Thankful that, on me, he didn’t inflict any pain.
To date, I’ve been lucky and haven’t been stung,
But I’m so totally dreading my first ever one.
Freezing on the spot has worked for me so far,
And has managed to keep me from any harm.
When a wasp approaches, my shoulders hunch.
Needless to say, I’m not a fan of ‘al fresco’ lunch!
Some people wave their arms and go ‘shoo! ’
But, I know this is the worst thing they can do.
Of wasps, I’ve always been so totally terrified,
And it’s a fear, which is extremely hard to hide.
A wilful wasp flying around in search of food,
Can, in a heartbeat, suddenly change my mood.
Bees, unlike wasps, are useful and earn their worth,
But what is the actual purpose of wasps on the earth?
They just annoy people to the point of distraction;
Where there’s a wasp, there’s often some action!
I’m really not their biggest fan, and I really think
I’d be more than happy, if they became extinct!
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Land
When at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the skies--
To go sailing far away
To the pleasant Land of Play;
To the fairy land afar
Where the Little People are;
Where the clover-tops are trees,
And the rain-pools are the seas,
And the leaves, like little ships,
Sail about on tiny trips;
And above the Daisy tree
Through the grasses,
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.
In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by,
Carrying parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit
Where the ladybird alit.
I can climb the jointed grass
And on high
See the greater swallows pass
In the sky,
And the round sun rolling by
Heeding no such things as I.
Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I'll board that tiny boat
Round the rain-pool sea to float.
Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy coasts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armour green--
(These have sure to battle been!)--
Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black and crimson, gold and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone;--
But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes I once again
Open, and see all things plain:
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And talking nonsense all the time--
O dear me,
That I could be
A sailor on a the rain-pool sea,
A climber in the clover tree,
And just come back a sleepy-head,
Late at night to go to bed.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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