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Crickets against Rats - KAGERO :iconroen911:rOEN911 480 31 The Royal Quartet :iconstellab:StellaB 541 76 RWD: 010 :iconlazymuffin:LazyMuFFin 556 301
Literature
Your Hand In Mine
The meadow whispers a hushed sigh
Caressed by a gentle breeze dancing by
Blades of grass shiver then rest
Rise and fall like a dreamer's chest
The hum of crickets singing their song
A night of peace that won't last long
There we lay, alone with our love
Stars from heaven hang just above
Your lips so soft, brushing my skin
Its feathery touch makes my head spin
I look into your eyes, deep as the sea
You hold my gaze as you smile at me
The beauty of our love made us appear to shine
We'll always have each other, your hand in mine
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Literature
Shaking Hands with Crickets...
          Pretty promises  f a l l i n g . . .
   from a filthy, little mouth,
             With  e v e r y  passing breadth,
        they get
                   a little bit lovely;
             a little bit stranger;
                       a little bit deadly;

         some guys just can't
                      hold onto
 
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Crickets Sing Their Lullabyes :iconengridearty:engridearty 158 120 Grasshopers love :iconmomotte2:Momotte2 151 123 Summer Kiss :iconvioletsun:VioletSun 196 40 There is Life :iconwhitestar1802:Whitestar1802 228 38
Literature
Nightfall
scattered fields, glimmering spray
misted eye-lights dim their day
dew-cooled tiptoes glide and listen
to sparkle back the nightfall's glisten.
feather-whispers reach their prayers
heaving sighs up unseen stairs.
nightfall trickles, slithers, seeps,
stretches out and falls asleep.
:iconmovementandmemories:movementandmemories
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Literature
Chirp
How have you lived,
thinning in your porcelain,
and so easily?
The world is blowing figurines from glass,
politely spinning
in its warm glowing beard,
cells tearing off
into the Plan.  You’re just another souvenir,
a mute objector, a cleft in time kept hidden from the cold,
and not long for anything.
What is it that does not endure
and still becomes a voice?
On the far end of myself
your hair is worn by nothing.
How do you live?
Some new tragic hope will come,
appropriate my will.
Your haunted choir of crickets
will vanish from the radio
and I will not mourn their silence.
I’ll feel the rough hewn stitch of new calendars,
demands of unthawed space,
medicine
for a curious disease,
the tumbling spokes of conversation
I couldn't
preconceive of,
the smooth bones of myrtles
hungering
to resurrect themselves,
their dark little beads frozen in their throes.  
How will you live!
Only sounds are real. They make misery or sleep.
Words have cut me from my home,
songs scatter
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Mr. Worms :iconjussikarro:JussiKarro 44 8 ArtSlam: Yvelle and Daffodils :iconkatsu:katsu 65 26 Band Land :iconi-am-thedragon:I-am-THEdragon 57 41 Do you hear it? :iconyukera:Yukera 55 5 The Deepest of Roots :iconccdoomo:CCDooMo 66 11 365 Challenge Day 199 :iconfleur-de-noel:Fleur-de-Noel 68 14 Summer :iconvioletsun:VioletSun 66 11 Animal sex :iconamersill:Amersill 48 56 Forest Bridge :iconguildofambience:guildofambience 36 5 Poesias para Reir I :iconporcelanita:porcelanita 41 8 Braeden .wait. :iconsamuraiqueen:Samuraiqueen 47 4 Mating Crickets :iconmelvynyeo:melvynyeo 56 3
Literature
Echoing Mimsies
Dear wanderlust,
I feel the inchoation
of ten-thousand tongues
sizzle-snapping against my ricocheting arms.
I wind up anti-clockwise,
bowing belly-up, head arching to
see what lays beyond the unseen
and the retrospective-easel of consequence.
15 particles of hair threaten to dangle past
the asymptote - delicate Proclamation Line - and
I think I may finally get it
Mr. Gray; {y does not exactly equal wonderful} and
{x is not always the decimation of tides.}
Sometimes the domain crosses the range,
and there are implications,
exclamations, and interpretations
of truth.
F(x) marks the spot where you will
not find me.
Crickets play hexachords on tinder-tender
hips, chirruping outside my shutter-slit eyes,
and sometimes in the baking heat of nightmare,
I beg them: slower, slower. Make the night
lag a little longer through
daybreak.

I would chime in, but it appears I am musty;
rat-a-tat-tatting on wood-paneling,
squeaking and chipping pieces of aperture
with each skippity-
:iconsense-and-stupidity:sense-and-stupidity
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Haruka_May squishing snails. :iconkakimochi:kakimochi 215 266 Them Crickets... :iconxayti:Xayti 90 22 Wizardman :iconak-is-harmless:AK-Is-Harmless 116 90 Aqua :iconalwyn-mallory:Alwyn-Mallory 55 16 IN SEARCH OF THE RAINBOW :iconiravgust:iravgust 31 2 Demotivational:Tousen Crickets :icondusha-soul:Dusha-Soul 159 1,128
Literature
Crickets
With sounds of crickets playing,
The end of day has come.
The moon that shines so bright,
She is my only guide.
Now is the time of darkness,
The time to reflect upon the mind,
To see the minds reflection,
Like the moon reflects the sun,
The source of boundless light.
May calmness come to all,
Like the calmness of the night,
Which is peaceful and quiet.
Except for crickets playing.
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Ear to Ear :iconcatharsisjb:CatharsisJB 49 13 A Charming Chirp Steps :iconshuufly:shuufly 26 11 Alone Together :iconzebesian:Zebesian 25 22 Corwin's head :iconvruia:Vruia 32 5 Dragons and Moral Guidance :icontheamazingkepso:theamazingkepso 38 41 Ten Lined June Beetle-1 :icondwalker1047:DWALKER1047 35 32 Poesias para Reir II :iconporcelanita:porcelanita 30 7 Buddy Holly :iconadlaeyx:ADlaeyx 22 9 diversity of dirt :icongreghergert:greghergert 21 3 Buddy Holly :iconannabellx:Annabellx 29 12 Hungry -Fruits Basket- :iconthreshie:Threshie 45 76 Mormon crickets :iconswashbookler:Swashbookler 29 16
Literature
Moonlight
A moment of rest,
of soothing clarity;
Let's hold this thought,
this fleeting rarity.
Will you come with me
under the silver moonlight,
And dance together
to the songs of the night?
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Lameo Bean :iconjowybean:Jowybean 19 2 The Relaxing Sound Of Chirping :iconwhisperingvoice:WhisperingVoice 26 9 lazy grasshopper :iconlaura-ah:Laura-AH 20 33
Literature
The Lake and Eliza
Lest I rest through autumn's crest
For many moons of discontent;
To thine soul mate, I professed
This cabin echoes my lament.
I wonder where thou hast gone
My once sanguine spirit of yore;
And why thy visage is withdrawn
From tranquil waves upon the shore.
I keep hearing whispers from the lake
Day by day, the voice draws nearer.
I find myself begin to shake
As the message becomes clearer.
“You have to…”
“I have to what?!”
“Please tell me!”
The spectral voice then faded away
I swear I’ve heard that voice before.
Before my mind begins to fray
I long to hear that voice once more.
I took the boat out passed the birch tree
Then sat there, floating for hours.
Yet could not resonate her voice with thee
Then sullen skies brought forth showers.
On those placid days that followed
I dreamt a dream of darken waves;
That engulfed me, yet left me hollowed
Deep beneath their watery graves.
Tis mid November, I still remember
I shall not leave this bed o
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