junebugs

last year we walked
across the starfields
of fireflies flaring
like love that burns
behind closed eyes
after light has faded

now it’s the droning
roar of cicadas
that wait 17 years
to make love

i’d rather disappear
alone into the night sky
than be swept en masse
from the sidewalk

but who is given
to choose or even knows
when they’ll tumble
unheard or
be crushed underfoot

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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13 Responses to junebugs

  1. henna ink says:

    I love this poem. Every word is perfect. Well, except in your third-to-final line—I think you meant to delete “I.” Or is it a third “l”? I can’t quite tell.

  2. henna ink says:

    Reblogged this on henna ink and commented:
    I like him. He’s got it. That thing, you know.

  3. Marya says:

    Oh, this is beautiful, Ray.

  4. hedgewitch says:

    No freakin kidding. Don’t know which is harder, falling silent and landing on that sidewalk, or just being crushed–I suppose with the falling at least you get to fly first.

    • Ray Sharp says:

      although when you drop fast to the ground and are crushed, your misery is over. when your light goes out and you are left floating in the dark, you are left with memories

  5. Leah Shaper says:

    This is fantastic! Thank you for sharing it. Cheers.

  6. Quite lovely and sad all at the same time. Yet, it is a beautiful thought that we do not have to choose our time to leave. Toni

  7. Nice poems man, this one in particular

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