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Love Poems About Beetle or Beetle Love Poems
by Tom Arnone |
Categories: insect, lost love, love, marriage, planet, science fiction, space,

Call To Mars

Saving credits for a trip to the stars,
A cave at Alba Mons volcano:
Ancient secrets, flowing bars;
Greenish women, so Bueno;
Artifacts, old, Martian,
Calling me to hug.
Beetle auction.
Red dust bug.
Big brained,
Life,
Love.
Misplaced
Mementos
Belonging to
Polka-dot fellows
Sexy ladybugs knew.
A rust-colored threesome
In waters that ran chilled and new;
But, air-thinned with delirium,
And a dusty marriage Mars did eschew.


by João Camilo |
Categories: allegory, love, nature,

The ballerina

Adieu, I wish to say at last.
So I can return steadfast 
To the sweet scented room 
Where no decay or doom 
Can enter without consent 
Of the blossom quiescent.
 
The flaming chariot delays 
the withering of her days,
the melting of a snow flake,
birds onset to a pristine lake,
but ruby tears and my blood 
flow like the biblical flood. 
 
A butterfly flaps her wings
Abandoning her silky rings, 
A beetle shines with desire 
To be brighter than sunfire, 
glimpse the awed nightingale 
silenced by a newborn dale. 
 
Adieu, I will not say any more,
lay with me on this seashore, 
if the red tide carry us afar
where beams a young star, 
uncharted by the scientists 
unconscious that it exists.

by liam mcdaid |
Categories: blessing, conflict, creation, love, truth, voice,

The prey attacks defending

Like the bombardier beetle
with an advanced weapons system attached 
It can expel an intense hot, pulsating jet of words
the fluid it blinds the frog before he can croak
aiming its turret in any direction with accuracy
After the ejection of each explosion
that of the boiling pressurised fluid
we can see the bug in politics talks hot air from the rear
a weapon system that science can't work out
I can see now why they dig for 
it helps to cover over their trail in leading the blind
over the cliffs where they fall victim to a deadly cause
that shifts the whole nature of things to suit tyrants
those whom play a hand in killing

by Robert Horton |
Categories: love hurts, nature,

Immense

Immense 

To watch in awe 
The forest floor, 
The saplings rise
With love in your eyes. 
And when we kiss 
Amongst all this 
The creatures that crawl 
Seem so small. 
A beetle, tiny 
On nettles, spiny, 
Ne'er a sting
For such a little thing. 
An ant or two 
For a hungry shrew, 
Wouldst be a feast 
For a miniscule beast. 
But seeds asleep 
In forests deep 
May never be 
A mighty tree, 
To love and part 
With a broken heart 
Is so intense 
It seems immense. 

©RJVHorton2016 

by Devyn Stroud |
Categories: angst, confusion, depression, fear, hope, life, loss, lost love, mystery, passion, philosophy, sad, social, war,

Untitled

how do i escape?
Dead in the night
What happened to the light?
Blueblack shades
Body drapped
Can this be alright?
What is way of right?
Piercing screams
How could this be?
Happen to me
Hollow inside
bloodied scars prove
no where to hide
alone, lost love
attempted flight, broken-winged dove
fall
Fall
Fallen
Angelic hope
None
Demonic presence abuse
What happened to the son?
Exploding beetle juice
Raping pleasures
How do i escape?

by Daljit Khankhana |
Categories: adventure, devotion, education, faith, forgiveness, friendship, imagination, rose,

Flowers

Daffodil, rose and carnation,
White, red, pink and many more,
Flowers were on their beauty,
Air comes to kiss their leaves.

They smiles and laughs,
When sun shines on them,
They spread their fragrance,
Butterfly and beetle comes to dance.

.ladybirds and honeybees round them,
As a pilgrim worships to his God,
A red rose is a symbol of love,
Also connects the broken hearts,

Nature, birds, animals and human,
All are happy to look flowers,
They spread scent everywhere,
To reduce bad smell in Air.

We need to appreciate this art,
Who cares for fresh breath?
A person can’t offer so greatness,
He cut them for money dish.

by Satish Verma |
Categories: art,

PARALYSED

When, 
the scream ends, you start 
digging the shadows of 
red berries.

The sky, 
scoops the children of rape, 
waiting for 
the rains.

The tiger beetle, 
will run after the winged prey 
of first love.

Would you like to taste 
the moon in the dark bowl 
of malicious night ?

Reading about the spell 
of the roses, I went to a
Sufi, for an epitaph.


Satish Verma