12 February 2007
Crickets
Little Cricket
The cricket's ballad sets the sun,
Bidding farewell, the day is done.
While twilight ushers in the dew,
Welcoming chirps, that bid adeau.
Vastness of dark, and night soon came,
Through wind and thunder, he still sang.
My quickened heart, forever still,
By friend outside, my window sill.
Hark! O'er the valley, and the dell,
His ballad echoes, all is well.
The cricket's ballad sets the sun,
Bids farewell, the day is done.
Barry Clopton Lanier
On the grasshopper and cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the grasshopper's - he takes the lead
In summer luxury, - he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one, in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
John Keats
They were not looking at the cricket I saw.
This guy was.
Sorry, Cricket
David H., Cornish, ME
A happy cricket once did chirp
Upon our bathroom floor.
But now he floats inside our john
And so he chirps no more.
The Chinese say it's lucky
To have a cricket in your home,
But now he is forever gone -
That's why I write this poem.
One night of happy quiet chirps
I thought was really nice,
But four nights of this was just too much
And the cricket's paid his price.
So rest in peace, our chirpy friend,
One flush and then you're gone.
We'll watch you spin and whirl away
At your funeral in our john.
This bugger kept me up last night with a sound of a train screeching to a halt
And now for the same photos that were not photoshopped
Other related posts about Wrong diet and Protein and Humans can be so stupid
Comments:
Jesus! Those little buggers are almost as big as our pigeons.
(~skeeved~)
# posted by Erica : Monday, February 12, 2007 4:44:00 PM
I guess everything is bigger in Africa. You must make those Texans mad!
# posted by LeeAnn : Monday, February 12, 2007 7:43:00 PM
Around hear the Paiutes and Goshutes used to eat a lot of crickets and grasshoppers in their daily diet during the warmer months. For most of them, big game hunting meant bagging a jackrabbit.
# posted by BobG : Monday, February 12, 2007 7:49:00 PM
Jesus, Mary and Joseph those things are scary!
# posted by Maeve : Tuesday, February 13, 2007 3:41:00 AM
DAYUM Kees, show us some pretty animals would ya?
# posted by Lisa W. : Tuesday, February 13, 2007 5:16:00 AM
How do you not wander around in constant shoulder-jerking terror?!?!
# posted by Kim : Tuesday, February 13, 2007 7:13:00 AM
The cricket's ballad sets the sun,
Bidding farewell, the day is done.
While twilight ushers in the dew,
Welcoming chirps, that bid adeau.
Vastness of dark, and night soon came,
Through wind and thunder, he still sang.
My quickened heart, forever still,
By friend outside, my window sill.
Hark! O'er the valley, and the dell,
His ballad echoes, all is well.
The cricket's ballad sets the sun,
Bids farewell, the day is done.
Barry Clopton Lanier
On the grasshopper and cricket
The poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the grasshopper's - he takes the lead
In summer luxury, - he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one, in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper's among some grassy hills.
John Keats
They were not looking at the cricket I saw.
This guy was.
Sorry, Cricket
David H., Cornish, ME
A happy cricket once did chirp
Upon our bathroom floor.
But now he floats inside our john
And so he chirps no more.
The Chinese say it's lucky
To have a cricket in your home,
But now he is forever gone -
That's why I write this poem.
One night of happy quiet chirps
I thought was really nice,
But four nights of this was just too much
And the cricket's paid his price.
So rest in peace, our chirpy friend,
One flush and then you're gone.
We'll watch you spin and whirl away
At your funeral in our john.
This bugger kept me up last night with a sound of a train screeching to a halt
And now for the same photos that were not photoshopped
Other related posts about Wrong diet and Protein and Humans can be so stupid
Comments:
Jesus! Those little buggers are almost as big as our pigeons.
(~skeeved~)
# posted by Erica : Monday, February 12, 2007 4:44:00 PM
I guess everything is bigger in Africa. You must make those Texans mad!
# posted by LeeAnn : Monday, February 12, 2007 7:43:00 PM
Around hear the Paiutes and Goshutes used to eat a lot of crickets and grasshoppers in their daily diet during the warmer months. For most of them, big game hunting meant bagging a jackrabbit.
# posted by BobG : Monday, February 12, 2007 7:49:00 PM
Jesus, Mary and Joseph those things are scary!
# posted by Maeve : Tuesday, February 13, 2007 3:41:00 AM
DAYUM Kees, show us some pretty animals would ya?
# posted by Lisa W. : Tuesday, February 13, 2007 5:16:00 AM
How do you not wander around in constant shoulder-jerking terror?!?!
# posted by Kim : Tuesday, February 13, 2007 7:13:00 AM
Comments:
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I guess everything is bigger in Africa. You must make those Texans mad!
# posted by 
: Monday, February 12, 2007 7:43:00 PM
: Monday, February 12, 2007 7:43:00 PM
Around hear the Paiutes and Goshutes used to eat a lot of crickets and grasshoppers in their daily diet during the warmer months. For most of them, big game hunting meant bagging a jackrabbit.
How do you not wander around in constant shoulder-jerking terror?!?!
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# posted by : Tuesday, February 13, 2007 7:13:00 AM
: Tuesday, February 13, 2007 7:13:00 AM << Home
