Secret Verve

Bugs are grotesque no more,
Feared, killed as before.
As one landed in my presence,
I inventoried his essence.
With legs of three pair,
Unshaven, full of hair.
Body dipped in fine gold,
Eyes orange, bulged, bold.
Tiny with parts that move,
Beauty seeped in every groove.
Wings, delicate like lace,
My fear turns to embrace.
Shaking in rhythmic deft,
Body moving right and left.
I wished he would linger
Even to sit upon my finger.
Upon the air he makes a curve,
Fleeing to his secret verve.

Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.


About Shainbird

"A lonely craftsman putting one word after another."
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6 Responses to Secret Verve

  1. Bastet says:

    🙂 great poem…I could almost like some insects now…he/she sounds beautiful!

  2. very good, you are such a talented poet 🙂

  3. Shainbird says:

    Thank you, Baldy, I am so pleased you enjoy my work.

  4. Your post was impressive! Yes they are so small & delicate. I do know of people who kill them for fun & never take in the way nature has formed them along with God who made us & every living thing on this earth. God made nature also. So this post of yours has a lot to give & learn that all creatures live or dead, small or tall, taken from their surroundings will always try to adapt until they die.

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