Thread: Flies. 13/July/09

The subject for the new poetry challenge is Flies.
House, horse, gad, May, any species of these summer visitors.
Sorry ash and OX, I know it's winter down there, but I bet you saw enough of them in the summer to remember what they are.

Please submit entries below, you have two weeks, or longer if I forget again.

The Trap

I am compelled to feast
upon the dead flesh
of my fallen comrade,
whom in pursuit of sustenance
became a casualty.

A grain of sugar,
a bit of orange peel
that's missed the bin,
a few drops of blood
that found the floor
as steak was trimmed.

A banquet dismissed
by human eyes -
inspiring greed
and insatiable need -
led to his demise.

My hunting ground
is barren, not a morsel
to be found.
The giantess
with yellow hands
rubbed and scrubbed
and closed my cafe down.

His carcass is so tempting
to my grumbling gut,
prompting me to partake
of his succulence
after I've exhausted
every but.

Giantess enters
whispering gibberish
in her foreign tongue -
"Gotcha now
you cannibalistic fucker."

A sudden gale
blows me from my meal
and in an instant,
I join the ranks
of the fallen.
My dying eyes see
a piece of pink plastic
adorned with half of me,
a poor victim
of a crafty trap.

She may have won the battle
but will never win the war.
I've left my legacy behind...




sixty eggs in the trash can
upon her spotless floor.

sudden turn
suzz-zihh, muzz-zihh

slight irritation,
irregular flight
hums thrums
as its motors,
lace black,
buzz over
its black-fuzz back
suzz-suzz muzz-zihh

touches down.
suzz...

flight suspended,
animation ended,
trepidation builds,
will it just...stay...still...

just at least...until...
SWAPP!-flapp!
suzz-zihh, muzz-hist!

Yeah.
I know.
I swatted
I missed.

A fly crossed my screen door this morning
As I casually drank my tea.
Probing the intersections of the meshing
After coming from the Hemlock tree.


It Talked in scratching on the screen
Telling tales of lovely debris.
And I have no doubt it’s heard Christine
sitting under the Hemlock tree.


Recalling a chainsaw conversation
remembered piece by piece.
Resolved by sticky fermentation
That turned the ground cerise.


And so it left with praise in passing
thanking me for the meal.
So it left after a quick dispatching
Before the late congeals.

Thank you for your contributions, I am now closing this challenge and putting a poll on it. Of course any one who found themselves too busy during the summer to get their entry in on time is welcome to post late, but you won't get voted on.
Please feel free to comment on the poems as well as voting for your favourite.