The sky is inky, syrupy smooth
The stars seemed swallowed up in the sheer vastness of the heavenly entity above
From the enormous height, the people on the earth below must look like thousands of billions of moths
Congregating around clusters of electric lights
Swaths of lights that bathe the land in an ethereal glow, a dangerous beauty
The Earth is speckled blue and green, like a perfect marble
Hanging in a precarious balance
As if divine beings were playing a game, and had left their pieces strewn about, in hopes that they would come
And pick them up
The perfect marble bears the burden of a thousand million dreams
I had a yellow jacket
until it was stained by a black rabbit,
a moth
ate through the cloth,
and a fish from the river
swallowed the zipper
my shoes
I wanted to never lose
were scuffed when run over
by a nearly blind gopher
the cardinal, again,
pecked holes in my cardigan
pants torn asunder
by a deer fleeing a hunter
socks
munched by crocs
my top hat
robbed by mob cats
all of my clothes beaten, taken, and otherwise skewed
almost leaving me in embarassing levels of nude
if not for this bracelet
made of crusty beetle cases
I felt attracted to her like a moth to a flame. She was flamboyant, her personality shined like the sun, and her beauty was uncomparable to anything else I had ever seen. She was everything I was looking for in a girl, and she was mine.
The moth had no idea she wasnt a butterfly so when they ran and swatted her away she began to question her own beauty. Was she ugly to everyone or just them?
I see the first four letters but then I add two more: er. And I am sitting next to her at the hospital. She doesn’t talk much because she knows what she has and she knows what they’re going to tell her. There’s nothing much to say; there’s a show on the tv up on the wall in the waiting room and here, in this place, the TV is such an unwanted guest; so impolite and uncaring, ranting and raving on and on with judges settling your dog bit mine cases and you broke my wall cases and you set fire to my car cases and your honor, he owes me money, well know, he told me I could have the money and it wasn’t a loan. Then the commercials and the people talking in those; the dregs of the entertainment business, all in one place. Actors who’ll always do TV commercials and writers who’ll always write them and directors who hope that this will all turn into something huge for them, because directors have huge egos that allow them to think those kind of things. And it works, because I’ve seen more than a couple of TV directors go on to other things. Money, fame. I never met a single one I liked.
i am a moth.
you might be feeling revolt right now
“ew you foul little creature”
but really, you don’t understand
i’m actually quite beautiful
but you get hung up on the fact that i eat cloth
maybe you should look past that
and see the real me
The last thing he saw was a bright light. He didn’t know what it was,but it was so mesmerizing. When he flew towards it,he felt pain and then it all turned black. It was a bug zapper, but he didn’t know that.
in an forgotten closet
in the back corner of the attic,
i peered in at the clothes rack,
dusted with age
a cluster of clothing hung,
silently and still,
undisturbed and stagnant
for so many seasons.
breaking the frozen scene,
a moth readjusted its wings.
a small, sudden motion,
an impact
the movement of life
within a photograph.
The moth fluttered to the top of the ceiling. I stared and wondered where it came from, where it was going. “How long did moths live,” I thought to myself. I considered looking it up later but I knew id forget when I got the chance.
Moths are scary bugs that fly around lights. I hate moths with a pasion . They also leave chalcky stuff on your hands cause they are nasty. That is what i think about moths .
A moth is a creepy bug that flies around and is very annoying. It’s usually brown ad gross looking. A moth is just an irreverent bug that gets in the way and scares children. They also usually fly around really crazy, almost like they are blind. i do nt like moths.
A moth. To be specific, THE moth. It was beautiful, large, and elegant. She rode the moth, settled on his back. The moth gently lifted off into the sky, and they disappeared in the clouds.
I moth circles the light by your door. I look at you with apprehension as I wait to see what your next move will be. I have traveled 4000 miles to see you and now I fear you may let me leave here tonight without so much as a kiss goodbye.
She saw the fluttering of wings out of the corner of her eye, and when she looked over, she saw the most intricate patterned moth she had ever experience. She stepped closer and in fluttered slightly but didn’t fly away. The soft petals of browns and greys were hypnotizing.
like a moth to a flame. he watches the insect flutter precariously between life and death, along the rim of a lantern not far away from him. each time it beats its wings against the heated surface he can almost hear its wings singe with each touch.
Molitor was a moth and mixon was the flame
she assaulted him and is most to be blamed
his force, excessive, yes, but still in self defense
don’t hate a man that responds with more strength,
blame she that commits the first violent offense
Moths,
Drawn to light.
Never truly being able to catch it.
Distracted by the illumination.
Butterflies,
Attracted to beauty.
Searching for their transformation.
Too focused on the journey.
Humans,
Striving for happiness,
But only getting a grasp on it momentarily.
Preoccupied with inevitable demise
The plain, older sister
Overshadowed by the younger
Flitting vibrant butterfly
Who, resplendent in sunlight
Hears the oohs and aahs
While the eldest ignored
Dreams of love and romance
A moth chasing moonlight
Faith that someone might see
The beauty concealed inside
Moths are attracted to light. Other than that I don’t know much about them. I suppose the attraction to light could be seen as symbolic and hopeful. Too bad they are freaky little guys.
It was chance, to be born in the shadows. Light graces some, turning them colorful, beautiful. Delicate. Lucky.
If I came around just a little sooner, would it all be different?
Timing might very well prove to be everything.
Luck time chance, now this night is never-ending.
Mother of the night, versus freedom of the skies.
I search for warmth, and you search for sweetness.
The moth was flitting around Maya’s head, she swatted at it lazily. There weren’t any lights on to draw it away from her so she had to deal with it trying to land on her cotton dress. If she wasn’t so sick, she would get up and turn on the single light bulb hanging above the bed.
Like a moth to flame, the woman pressed forward, cutting through the night like a knife through paper. She was a mythical beautiful, obsidian and creme painted her hair and features. And she wasn’t alone.
She drew me to her, and she yanked the cliché out of my mouth: The tired trope of the moth, fluttering aimlessly toward the perilous flickering flame. She was dressed in blue and had painted her nails green. Her hair was blonde. The only red was the glow exposed when she opened her mouth to speak.
“I heard you’re quite the fan of rum,” she said to me, and before I could answer, a glass of the stuff was passed to me.
The sky is inky, syrupy smooth
The stars seemed swallowed up in the sheer vastness of the heavenly entity above
From the enormous height, the people on the earth below must look like thousands of billions of moths
Congregating around clusters of electric lights
Swaths of lights that bathe the land in an ethereal glow, a dangerous beauty
The Earth is speckled blue and green, like a perfect marble
Hanging in a precarious balance
As if divine beings were playing a game, and had left their pieces strewn about, in hopes that they would come
And pick them up
The perfect marble bears the burden of a thousand million dreams
I had a yellow jacket
until it was stained by a black rabbit,
a moth
ate through the cloth,
and a fish from the river
swallowed the zipper
my shoes
I wanted to never lose
were scuffed when run over
by a nearly blind gopher
the cardinal, again,
pecked holes in my cardigan
pants torn asunder
by a deer fleeing a hunter
socks
munched by crocs
my top hat
robbed by mob cats
all of my clothes beaten, taken, and otherwise skewed
almost leaving me in embarassing levels of nude
if not for this bracelet
made of crusty beetle cases
“Oh my God, don’t move.”
Jon froze where he was. Jay slowly lifted her phone from the table, inching toward him with the camera aimed just above his face.
“Um,” Jon said finally.
“Got it!” Jay barked, making him jump. “There was a moth on your head, fella!” she explained then, holding her phone screen up to him. “See?”
I felt attracted to her like a moth to a flame. She was flamboyant, her personality shined like the sun, and her beauty was uncomparable to anything else I had ever seen. She was everything I was looking for in a girl, and she was mine.
A frenetic stranger fluttering against an old lampshade on a hot and humid summer’s night. An Icarus that will never burn.
I wanted more for myself
I wanted to be seen as beautiful
as the butterfly
not to die
by the hands of people who would never understand my grace.
The moth had no idea she wasnt a butterfly so when they ran and swatted her away she began to question her own beauty. Was she ugly to everyone or just them?
I see the first four letters but then I add two more: er. And I am sitting next to her at the hospital. She doesn’t talk much because she knows what she has and she knows what they’re going to tell her. There’s nothing much to say; there’s a show on the tv up on the wall in the waiting room and here, in this place, the TV is such an unwanted guest; so impolite and uncaring, ranting and raving on and on with judges settling your dog bit mine cases and you broke my wall cases and you set fire to my car cases and your honor, he owes me money, well know, he told me I could have the money and it wasn’t a loan. Then the commercials and the people talking in those; the dregs of the entertainment business, all in one place. Actors who’ll always do TV commercials and writers who’ll always write them and directors who hope that this will all turn into something huge for them, because directors have huge egos that allow them to think those kind of things. And it works, because I’ve seen more than a couple of TV directors go on to other things. Money, fame. I never met a single one I liked.
test
i am a moth.
you might be feeling revolt right now
“ew you foul little creature”
but really, you don’t understand
i’m actually quite beautiful
but you get hung up on the fact that i eat cloth
maybe you should look past that
and see the real me
The last thing he saw was a bright light. He didn’t know what it was,but it was so mesmerizing. When he flew towards it,he felt pain and then it all turned black. It was a bug zapper, but he didn’t know that.
A moon sprinkle. A night blink among the canopy of stars. A flutter caught between the trap of time. She brushes against the wind and is gone.
in an forgotten closet
in the back corner of the attic,
i peered in at the clothes rack,
dusted with age
a cluster of clothing hung,
silently and still,
undisturbed and stagnant
for so many seasons.
breaking the frozen scene,
a moth readjusted its wings.
a small, sudden motion,
an impact
the movement of life
within a photograph.
When I think of the word moth I think of that moth guy batman fights in one of his movies.
The moth fluttered to the top of the ceiling. I stared and wondered where it came from, where it was going. “How long did moths live,” I thought to myself. I considered looking it up later but I knew id forget when I got the chance.
What is the difference in a butterfly and a moth
Moths are scary bugs that fly around lights. I hate moths with a pasion . They also leave chalcky stuff on your hands cause they are nasty. That is what i think about moths .
A moth is a creepy bug that flies around and is very annoying. It’s usually brown ad gross looking. A moth is just an irreverent bug that gets in the way and scares children. They also usually fly around really crazy, almost like they are blind. i do nt like moths.
A moth. To be specific, THE moth. It was beautiful, large, and elegant. She rode the moth, settled on his back. The moth gently lifted off into the sky, and they disappeared in the clouds.
wings
flies
nocturnal
migrate
similar to butterflies
antennae
I moth circles the light by your door. I look at you with apprehension as I wait to see what your next move will be. I have traveled 4000 miles to see you and now I fear you may let me leave here tonight without so much as a kiss goodbye.
She saw the fluttering of wings out of the corner of her eye, and when she looked over, she saw the most intricate patterned moth she had ever experience. She stepped closer and in fluttered slightly but didn’t fly away. The soft petals of browns and greys were hypnotizing.
ist nicht Mathe, aber eine Motte, die ins Licht fliegt, bei der sich die Welt verbiegt.
I like the moth for its simple elegance
unlike the mariposa’s vain extravagance
except when I find a spread of holes
one has eaten out of adored clothes
from anger I then grab the insect spray
then from pity, sigh, as one passes away :- (
like a moth to a flame. he watches the insect flutter precariously between life and death, along the rim of a lantern not far away from him. each time it beats its wings against the heated surface he can almost hear its wings singe with each touch.
Molitor was a moth and mixon was the flame
she assaulted him and is most to be blamed
his force, excessive, yes, but still in self defense
don’t hate a man that responds with more strength,
blame she that commits the first violent offense
-Adherent of Joe Mixon
MOTHER
Moths,
Drawn to light.
Never truly being able to catch it.
Distracted by the illumination.
Butterflies,
Attracted to beauty.
Searching for their transformation.
Too focused on the journey.
Humans,
Striving for happiness,
But only getting a grasp on it momentarily.
Preoccupied with inevitable demise
The plain, older sister
Overshadowed by the younger
Flitting vibrant butterfly
Who, resplendent in sunlight
Hears the oohs and aahs
While the eldest ignored
Dreams of love and romance
A moth chasing moonlight
Faith that someone might see
The beauty concealed inside
moths r like dirty butterflies……..
moth is a kind of butterflies. they are more attracted to light.
moth is very colorful and beautiful. they are into different types and they like colorful flowers. usually we can see them in garden.
Moths are attracted to light. Other than that I don’t know much about them. I suppose the attraction to light could be seen as symbolic and hopeful. Too bad they are freaky little guys.
It was chance, to be born in the shadows. Light graces some, turning them colorful, beautiful. Delicate. Lucky.
If I came around just a little sooner, would it all be different?
Timing might very well prove to be everything.
Luck time chance, now this night is never-ending.
Mother of the night, versus freedom of the skies.
I search for warmth, and you search for sweetness.
The moth was flitting around Maya’s head, she swatted at it lazily. There weren’t any lights on to draw it away from her so she had to deal with it trying to land on her cotton dress. If she wasn’t so sick, she would get up and turn on the single light bulb hanging above the bed.
Like a moth to flame, the woman pressed forward, cutting through the night like a knife through paper. She was a mythical beautiful, obsidian and creme painted her hair and features. And she wasn’t alone.
She drew me to her, and she yanked the cliché out of my mouth: The tired trope of the moth, fluttering aimlessly toward the perilous flickering flame. She was dressed in blue and had painted her nails green. Her hair was blonde. The only red was the glow exposed when she opened her mouth to speak.
“I heard you’re quite the fan of rum,” she said to me, and before I could answer, a glass of the stuff was passed to me.