A Saturday Woman Poet, How Words Play, Images, Saturday Women Poets, Transformation, Women Writers

‘Cicada’ by Glenda Cimino.

Cicada

For David Carson

How beautiful the cicadas’ song
How holy the insect voices
Rise to heaven.

How homely and comforting
The steady trill of their choir
In the dark night.

Yet some say each cicada
Is the restless, reborn soul
Of a dead Poet –

A spendthrift who did not respect
The gift of his muse
But squandered his inspiration.

Till the poems died, nameless,
While waiting to be born
And the silence grew deafening.

How with cicada’s wings
He now fervently delivers
His unuttered poems.

He can never again be silent
Even if no human understands
His heart’s outpouring.

How beautiful the cicada’s song
How purely the insect voices
Rise to heaven. 

by Glenda Cimino

Haiku

wind in the long grass
whispers of forgotten lovers
under the trees.

Glenda Cimino

Both poems are © Glenda Cimino, with thanks, C.

3 Comments

  1. citogk says

    I like the connection between the grasshopper and the poet. Singing his heart out and maybe by the standards of the
    ants getting much done.

  2. citogk says

    Jesus wept- I do need an editior in my life it is supposed to be ants not………………

Comments are closed.