Laura Jayne at Pictures, Poetry & Prose poses a daily writing challenge.
The prompt for this poem was “Insects”.
The prompt for this poem was “Insects”.
The Wasting Moth
“The wasting moth ne'er spoiled my best array;
the cause was this, I wore it every day”
– Alexander Pope
If there’s an insect that earns my wrath
It is the mindless, little wasting moth
They usually appear late at nights
Flitting aimlessly around my lights
But what it is that earns my loathing
Is: it’s not me they love, it is my clothing
On sight, inside, I feel something snapping
And chase them ‘round the room, clapping
And if I catch the blighter, it is mushed
Ashes go to ashes, moths go to dust
But late at night, when I’m rhyming letters
Little mothlings are eating my sweaters.
“The wasting moth ne'er spoiled my best array;
the cause was this, I wore it every day”
– Alexander Pope
If there’s an insect that earns my wrath
It is the mindless, little wasting moth
They usually appear late at nights
Flitting aimlessly around my lights
But what it is that earns my loathing
Is: it’s not me they love, it is my clothing
On sight, inside, I feel something snapping
And chase them ‘round the room, clapping
And if I catch the blighter, it is mushed
Ashes go to ashes, moths go to dust
But late at night, when I’m rhyming letters
Little mothlings are eating my sweaters.
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© J Cosmo Newbery
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© J Cosmo Newbery
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I have some cabbage moths, if you would like some of them too.
ReplyDeleteI once had an infestation of these tiny moths... they were in my kitchen (transported via some box of something from the grocery store). They drove me NUTS, as I couldn't get rid of them. One morning, I walked into the kitchen and something made me look up... there were about 100 of these tiny caterpillar-y wormy things on my ceiling, just waiting to become those damned moths. After the ewww-factor diminished, I took great pleasure in squishing them all.
ReplyDeleteIs there anything you can't write a poem about?
ReplyDeletei loath moths. i have a moth phobia actually.
ReplyDeletei'd much rather deal with spiders.
Moths... mice... it's all the same. Letters and sweaters made such a clever rhyme for this poem. Delightful. Personally, I feel sorry for moths and tend to free them (so they can return for another sweater meal at some point in the future). One night, I was feeling lazy and just popped the moth into an envelope and sealed it. (I intended to release it outside in the morning.) It scared me to death, when in the middle of the night, the damn thing was raising a ruckus with its wings inside the envelope. I swear, it skittered across the nighstand and seemed POSSESSED.
ReplyDeletePesky little creatures they are, they invade your pantry if given a free ride in a cereal box or they get into your clothes if given half a chance. ♥
ReplyDeleteAnd you know what's even worse than moths? Moth balls. YUCK. They smell terrible. No wonder they keep moths away. They keep me away too. :)
ReplyDeleteAh,Mr. Newberry, is it a slight fit of pique that ails you I wonder? "its not me they love, its my clothing"
ReplyDeleteThese little creatures, pesky though they may be, are, of course, oblivious to your dazzling couplets, your masterly command of the pleasures of the quill.
Have some compassion, Sir.
I'm wondering if you're currently under a moth invasion and hoping that you're not. They are so difficult to be rid of.
ReplyDelete