Bugs Poems
Bugs in a Bowl
by David Wolf Budbill
Han Shan, that great and crazy, wonder-filled Chinese poet of a thousand years ago, said:
We're just like bugs in a bowl. All day going around never leaving their bowl.
I say, That's right! Every day climbing up
the steep sides, sliding back.
Over and over again. Around and around.
Up and back down.
Sit in the bottom of the bowl, head in your hands,
cry, moan, feel sorry for yourself.
Or. Look around. See your fellow bugs.
Walk around.
......
Lepidoptera
by Tyler Morello
Prided on patience,
I wait and watch the world around me,
Cocooned, concealed, keeping countenance.
Wings full-grown, but folded.
Eyes, mind, sharp but blinded.
All attempts to emerge, impeded.
Restrained by ripples of racing rain,
Suppressed by sight of spying sparrows,
Until at last, clear day.
......
Little Talk
by Aileen Fisher
Don't you think it's probable
that beetles, bugs, and bees
talk about a lot of things -
you know, such things as these:
The kind of weather where they live
in jungles tall with grass,
and earthquakes in their villages
whenever people pass.
......
Nature
by Morton Litwack
I Once Found a Lot of Cicadas
On a Farm Among the Tomaitas
The Sound from the Ground
Was Really Profound
Ending a Seventeen Year Hiatus
Lepidoptera
by Tyler Morello
Prided on patience,
I wait and watch the world around me,
Cocooned, concealed, keeping countenance.
Wings full-grown, but folded.
Eyes, mind, sharp but blinded.
All attempts to emerge, impeded.
Restrained by ripples of racing rain,
Suppressed by sight of spying sparrows,
Until at last, clear day.
......
Nature
by Morton Litwack
I Once Found a Lot of Cicadas
On a Farm Among the Tomaitas
The Sound from the Ground
Was Really Profound
Ending a Seventeen Year Hiatus
Little Talk
by Aileen Fisher
Don't you think it's probable
that beetles, bugs, and bees
talk about a lot of things -
you know, such things as these:
The kind of weather where they live
in jungles tall with grass,
and earthquakes in their villages
whenever people pass.
......
Bugs in a Bowl
by David Wolf Budbill
Han Shan, that great and crazy, wonder-filled Chinese poet of a thousand years ago, said:
We're just like bugs in a bowl. All day going around never leaving their bowl.
I say, That's right! Every day climbing up
the steep sides, sliding back.
Over and over again. Around and around.
Up and back down.
Sit in the bottom of the bowl, head in your hands,
cry, moan, feel sorry for yourself.
Or. Look around. See your fellow bugs.
Walk around.
......
