Cicada Chorus

7 Comments

Tags:
  • Nature
    • mlea
    • Very excited and very grateful. My son Michael will be coming back to American soil in about 12 days I want to thank all of you for your prayers and well wishes and strength.

    Cicada Chorus

    The house is once again still.
    The blinds and draped have been closed
    Giving a false sense of evening.
    The Fan hums above,
    The air caresses my shoulders.
    I almost feel cold
    And wrap my arms around myself
    And shiver.

    The backyard,
    Covered in a green canopy of leaves and branches,
    Comes alive,
    the Cicada voices!
    The volume is intense
    As their song is raised and lowered.
    The switch shut  abruptly off
    Leaving me to wonder
    Who is the director of this choir.

    The hammock 
    Swings in the hot breeze.
    The gazebo,
    Empty.
    A solitary bird
    Chirps commands
    That no other heeds.
    Again the Cicada chorus begins to swell,
    A cantata so loud
    It drowns out any other song.
    They will not yield the stage this day!
    They will not yield...


    mlea07/09

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    kmooney commented on Cicada Chorus

    08-10-2009

    I loved this poem. I can hear the cicadas in my mind right now, the repeated hum of their chirped crescendo, high to low, for hours on end. They're chorus seems to intesify with the sweltering heat, together they form a signature of summer. The two compliment one another in a mystic sort of way. Thank you for this wonderful observance of nature. I am not sure I will be able to get them out of my head for a while. I think I will read more of your works and try.... K

    mlea

    08/10/2009

    there they are , all of them, out in the yard somewhere, all singing together, all changing volume, together, and then they all stop! together....what a concept... thanks for your comments, mlea

    ginga commented on Cicada Chorus

    08-09-2009

    mlea, A very well spoken poem about an insect that cannot be overlooked or overheard!! You entertain the reader as to not cause us any remorse toward these choral chainsaw hummers. I like that if I did not know what a cicada was I would think they sang sweetly! Very nice and gentle ode to the bug. ginga

    mlea

    08/10/2009

    Since I moved to Texas I have encountered bugs much nastier than the Cicada, so I guess I am being kind, thanks for looking in, mlea

    laydbak1 commented on Cicada Chorus

    08-01-2009

    This immediately conjured the audio imagery of hearing this so many times and you did a great job of touching on how their loud chorus' always rise and falls off suddenly; only to reoccurr every few minutes or so.. This goes on for hours sometimes... Great write... Enjoyed it...

    mlea

    08/01/2009

    I thank you for your comments, and for taking the time to stop by.Went camping once and rolled over on a Cicada that ended up in my ear. I had ringing in that ear for days....mlea

    Stardrift commented on Cicada Chorus

    08-01-2009

    You very adeptly captured an atmosphere of a hazy summer day! I could almost taste the lemonade, smell the freshly-cut grass, hear the...well....only those relentless cicadas! My god, get out of there, mlea! Ok, great, now I have Cicadaphobia! I love that closing - almost comical - the beauty is driving you batty!! This one most definitely goes in my Faves. Mlea, whatever you did here - more, more, more.....(I haven't read any of your others yet) A perfect little piece of poetry! -SD

    mlea

    08/01/2009

    Oh, my dear Stardrift, please be my guest and read some of my other pieces... I laughed all through your critique...need alot more like you round these parts....mlea

    WordSlinger commented on Cicada Chorus

    08-01-2009

    Cool, I like this, a good description of a pleasent evening. Have ya ever seen, August Rush? If not then maybe ya shall.

    mlea

    08/01/2009

    dude, you are the 4th person to encourage this movie to me....I guess I shall...

    mlea

    08/01/2009

    dude, you are the 4th person to encourage this movie to me....I guess I shall...

    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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