by Liz LaRosa
There are many kinds of little bugs.
Shiny green ones are the best.
Iridescent exoskeletons
Are prettier than the rest.
Sometimes I wonder how it would feel
To have extra arms, and wings!
What would I do if I was like that?
Some wonderful lovely things!
I would fly in to your living room
To see what was on the wall.
I would look for something good to eat
My antennae tasting all!
I would fly out to your garden beds
And check out all your flowers.
Where can I go? I must lay my eggs!
For I will be dead in hours!
I'd see roses in a pretty hue;
With shoots that are tender and bare
I'd extend my ovipositor,
Deposit my eggs right there.
They have very short lives, little bugs
But they also have no concern.
For with every metamorphosis
They will get another turn.
© 1995 by Alan R. Turner. All Rights Reserved
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Don't Bug Me - By Dave Mousley
"Don't bug me, man ! I know your twisted little game !" the fly
called out to the spider
"Why, I wouldn't dare !" Daddy Long Legs retorted and looked to be insulted. "I'm not the insect-eating type. I wouldn't harm a Katy-did. Don't now. Never will. Never did. You must have me confused with some other meaner arachnid."
"Then what's with the web, Long-Legged Daddy ? I suppose you've spun yourself a bed ! Or, no doubt, a trampoline for my pleasure ! One leap and I'll lose both body and head," the fly then said.
The spider recoiled in mock horror, "Murder is not in my nature. But you're perceptive, my swift-winged friend. I've woven a couch for wanderers like yourself, a bed for weary travelers to recline on. Sit down a spell and I'll fix us refreshments. You can take respite and recite me your story."
"Not me !" cried the fly, "If it's one thing I have, it's good eyes and a healthy respect for spiders and webs as well as a preference for life over death."
"But don't you see the sign overhead ?" the wily-smiling spider said.
The fly drew closer to see the words that were written in tiny threads.
But as he approached them his wings became caught instead. Said the sign
above his head, "Welcome to my Web".
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LUST
AND THE CATERPILLAR'S DREAM
By Susan Mackley
My mind burst today like an opened cocoon
Fresh ideas fluttered free with juvenile wings
Once disconsolate caterpillars clenched in fetal balls
Lamenting their basement-level view
Intrepid burst of energy
in manic ascent
soar to new heights
salacious sundance
libidinous
like icarus
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"fly, on his wings, like an angel. flying high, touch the sky, on his
wings, like an angel. touch the sun, on his wings, like an angel, flying
high, to the sun, like an angel, flying high!"
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