Cicada’s Song

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Illustration by Poet Rummager

Ah, to be a cicada

and discard what I’d once been-

dispersing in the wind.

Particles of me,

so tiny,

no one would see.

I’d scatter in the breeze.

In your hair,

I’d settle there.

Sink into your pores.

Unmask secrets of yours.

On the roof of your mouth,

I’d hang about.

So, every time you sung,

I’d tumble to your tongue.

We’d sing as one.

 

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Photo by FlyTrapMan of a cicada emerging from its old shell.

Click below and listen to a cicada’s song:

Cicada’s Song

My poem was inspired by FlyTrapMan’s amazing article. Read it by clicking below!!!

Astroberfest: Six-legged Earthlings

79 comments

  1. Truly a fascinating poem, and so ingenious how you transposed yourself as a cicada and spread yourself into his skin, to evolve as a loving, final tongue twister… wow I think I got it right….

    Liked by 2 people

    • Haha! Your comments are always surprising and never fail to make me chuckle. Cicadas also sing in their own way, so that’s where the guy’s tongue comes into play. I do love a good tongue twister, though! Thank you, mate. xo

      Liked by 2 people

  2. When I saw Fly’s video yesterday, I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be that cicada but with the cognitive function of a human, knowing that you were leaving behind a shell of your former self and becoming something new and strong. Your poem is a beautiful and playful interpretation. I really admire the way your personality comes through in your writing and your art, which is lovely and memorable here as always.

    Liked by 3 people

    • Oh, my dear Oggy — what would I do without your thoughtful comments? I do believe you’d make a stunning cicada… I’d hate for you to become completely different from the Oglach we’ve all grown to love, but I certainly always wish you strength and good health. ❀ Thanks for your sweet words, Oglacada πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€

      Liked by 2 people

  3. Intriguing poem…the lines that jump out at me: S”ink into your pores. / Unmask secrets of yours.” – – that our secrets flow through us, are literally part of our body, but of course, becoming metaphor, the layers it creates for the other lines.

    And is it just me or does that little critter’s face look like a small piranha’s?

    Liked by 3 people

  4. As the ice cream drips down,on a hot summers day,the boy remembers why he asked if he could have….his mother says yes,as the ice cream numbs his lips,the cool sensation is a welcome
    As the summers noon day sun heats,while the boy licks as much as of the ice cream as he can

    Liked by 2 people

  5. We should bust our old seams, and then discard the pieces that are no longer resourceful…it’s the only way to grow wings. Thanks for sharing my photograph and article! Your creativity is louder than a cicada’s abdominal boombox.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. This is yet another truly beautiful poem, and the choice of a cicada is brave and interesting. For me the sound of the cicada is exotic and romantic. ‘We’d sing as one’ I interpret as an ultimate coming together. S

    Liked by 1 person

    • You make me soar like a cicada! Thanks very much for your sweet words which I shall keep in my purse; in my makeup bag… some of a woman’s most prized possessions are in her makeup bag. πŸ‘›πŸ’„πŸ’‹

      Liked by 1 person

  7. What a wonderful image (is that a skull tattoo on its back?)–your words reminded me of the old folk song “I wish I were some tiny sparrow”, but I love the idea of an insect instead of a bird! (K)

    Liked by 1 person

    • Good eyes — yes, it’s the cicada’s tramp stamp 😁 The Tiny Sparrow lyrics are somewhat morbid — I enjoyed them so much! Much thanks, K. I’m familiar with Peter, Paul and Mary. Puff the Magic Dragon is a favorite. πŸ¦‹πŸ’ž

      Liked by 1 person

  8. What a delightful poem and about my favorite insect. I love the way they sing to each other in groups. I believe it’s by rubbing their legs together. Sort of like an opera for insects.

    I hope you are well… jc

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks my dear friend! I think you’re thinking of grasshoppers or crickets. Cicadas actually rub their abdomen to “sing.” Like Buddha, I guess πŸ˜€

      Just busy at work. I used to only teach art class 3 days a week and now it’s up to 5 days. Thank you for thinking of me, JC. I’ll visit you soon. xo

      Like

  9. Beautiful photo by Fly…and the poem is epic…how i would love to be a cicada so that i could easily let go of my old self and fly again …and well i could then be anywhere leaving parts of me as the wind blows…then i’d come back together in one piece and.tell you stories of my journey…damn…i think i am talking of my current situation…lol..

    Liked by 2 people

    • Fly is an insect whisperer. Thank you, dear Somali. I may have interpreted your lovely comment incorrectly, but the cicada is shedding its old shell. There’s no host involved; although that would be quite the story! xo

      Liked by 1 person

      • Dear Rose, I realize that host is not the most appropriate word here. What I meant was the cicada is eager for a new start but what about the person on whose tongue it will tumble? I hope I got it right now. πŸ™‚

        Liked by 1 person

  10. I love your poem, Rose!! You’ve captured both the essence and fascination of these marvellous creatures so wonderfully in your words. There’s something utterly romantic about cicada sounds, they always transport me to a warmer climate and lovely nights. πŸ˜„πŸ˜šπŸ’•

    Like

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