Tag Archives: rhyming verse

Ladybug (Ladybird)

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Let your imagination… fly like the lady-bird, “north, south, and east, and west,” but take care that it always comes home to rest. ~Robert Southey (1774–1843), English poet

Once there was a ladybug
A-sittin’ on a tree
Chomping on her dinner
Never minding me.

Ladybugs eat insects
And are considered “good”
So I let her feast unbothered
As she likely hoped I would.

But why are males and females
Called “lady”bugs, I croak?
They’re named for Our Lady, Mary,
In art, wearing a red cloak.

Note: This is some sort of rhyming verse, as best as I can tell. I’m open to learning more, if anybody wants to educate me!

Hibernation: An Art

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Winter is a time of promise because there is so little to do — or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so. ~Stanley Crawford, American writer and farmer

‘Tis the season for us to hibernate,
Hole up indoors and try to acclimate
While the snows outside start to accumulate
And the frigid temperatures rush to accelerate.

The wise prepare for this transition to incubate:
They gather food when the weather is adequate,
Gas for the car and wood for the grate;
Books, movies, puzzles while they isolate.

This season of quiet gives us time to cogitate
The meaning of Life and how we might mitigate
The miseries others face and extrapolate
Things we can do to make peace proliferate.

Of course, none of us can ever anticipate,
Nor can anyone fully appreciate
How long, how dreary this time we tolerate.
Ideas germinate, but we procrastinate.

We mean to get things done, but wait!
A nap is calling, so we vacillate.
Clean closets, tax prep, and such might motivate.
Maybe tomorrow. Today we vegetate!

Note: This is some sort of rhyming verse, I think.

What Now, Mama?

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If you have a job without any aggravations, you don’t have a job. ~Malcolm S. Forbes, American entrepreneur and politician

Here I am, overseeing the garden,
Watching Mama’s pretty plants,
Chasing cute little bunnies away,
Listening to the birdies’ chants.

I’m lying in this patch of dirt
Beside the rolled-up garden hose,
Always attentive to my Mama,
No matter wherever it is she goes.

This morning she tried to walk my legs off,
Strolling around at break of day.
Don’t you think I’ve earned a rest?
Shouldn’t I really get a say?

Not around here, I’ve gotta complain.
Mama’s the alpha — the boss — she notes.
I’m just a little Monkey, you see.
Is it fair, the way she gloats?

Here’s a warning for other pups:
Choose wisely the job you want to do,
Else you’ll find yourself just like me,
Wishing for peace and a bone to chew.

Note: This is some sort of rhyming verse.

And the Rain Falls

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If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water. ~Loren Eiseley, American anthropologist, writer, and educator

Days upon days of rain
Drenching the ground below.
Keeping us sheltered at home
While Nature continues to grow.

It’s really too cool to garden,
Too wet to dig in the dirt.
My world has become an emerald,
My attire: jeans and T-shirt.

Hang on, people, hang on!
This, too, one day will pass.
Life will acquire a new normal;
Sun will shine on the glass.

It’s easy to drift into sadness
We’re all missing so much.
Perhaps it’s good for the world
To pause from our human touch.

We’re on a maiden voyage,
Fording an unknown sea.
Wading in deepening waters
From which we cannot flee.

Hold on, people, hold on!
It’s easier to smile than frown.
Refuse to add to the misery
Be kind during this slowdown.

Note: I think this poetry form is called Iambic Trimeter. It has three iambs per line. (Of course, if you know otherwise, please educate me!)