Ode to Owl City's Fireflies

I bid farewell to acrid August,

when my peers’ rude words drove me to tears.

I wished the earth would stop its turning,

I came right here to forget my fears.

I stretched my legs in Starlight Square,                          

beneath the famous figgy tree.

Often, the cold sags my soul,

now I’m free and full of glee.

 

Fireflies flashed before my eyes,

when I raised my dark-haired face.

If I crave some stunning shapes,

I came to the ideal place.

 

Tonight, 'ten thousand' light the night,

about to throw a show to remember.

My beams are bursting at my seams,

as so much came for September.

 

Some flies feel too shy to shine.

Some cool their heat and dull their flames.

They may melt into a mushy mess.

Oh, their deaths are such a shame!

 

They salsa, shimmy, and 'sock hop'.

They jete and jive in flocks of five.

Just like a jar of lemonade,

they make me feel more alive.

 

They glow a lovely lemon yellow;

light (up) the stage like buttercups.

Galloping like giddy goats,

unstrapped from their scratchy stirrups.

 

They flutter upwards, flushing fuchsia.

They curve into a cute sweetheart

I widely smiled at their grace and guile,

encouraged to create new art.

 

They soothe me with a smooth sea green,

and hop across the heady haze.

Flapping fins like gleeful guppies,

Casting hope for brighter days.

 

They then ignite an icy blue.

Freewheeling without a fuss.

Sparkling like fresh snowflakes,

their fancy flights bring me a buzz.

 

They careen into an ocean crest,

sucking in the concrete square.

They then swoop into a silver loop,

bestow a crown on my dark hair.

 

Once they wrapped around my head,

these bright bugs formed a sort of swarm.

I loved the bugs one thousand hugs,

they felt so welcoming and warm.

 

Although tomorrow will be busy,

How could I feel alarmed and stressed?

Cause with these friendly fireflies,

I just feel so calm and blessed.

 

The moon beamed down at me,

the poet in the parking lot.

Poised and pretty like a Queen,

in a right now private honey pot.

 

They healed my heart and helped me hope

As for next term, I could cope

Hello Everyone.

I hope you enjoyed reading this poem. I conceived it when I was lounging in the park bench, one summers evening. I set this poem in Starlight square, Cambridge, America, which was originally a parking lot. Recently, it was converted into a poets' stage and a marketplace. I chose Starlight Square, as I liked the magical, alliterative name, and it empowers poets to 'throw shows' and 'shine':

https://www.starlightsquare.org/

I also remembered feeling so enchanted by Owl City's Fireflies song, released in 2010. As a result, I sprinkled in some references from the song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=psuRGfAaju4

See if you can spot the references. If you find any, please tell us in the comments section. Lastly, please feel free to share your thoughts on this poem, as I'm always curious to learn, and inclined to improve my writing. Thank you again for reading my poem, and may all your days be bright and blissful.

From Rithika Nadipalli.

The Divorce of Heaven and Hell, by a Lady Victorian Poet (“Without Contraries is no Progression”)

I am a distinguished dame,

 

Florence Farthingale is my name

 

I read William Blake’s poetry,

 

penned during the 19^th century.

 

I adored Blakean stories and lore,

 

with rich similes and metaphors.

 

But his book on the Marriage of Heaven and Hell,

 

made my fury surge and swell.

 

For instance, in his Memorable Fancy,

 

He throws the angel a shameful phantasy.

 

While Willie hears music by the moon,

 

The Angel is stuck with apes and baboons.

 

Grinning and plucking in their chains,

 

They even devoured their rotting remains.

 

His other poems also poked me up.

 

Choked up, I fervently spoke up:

 

How could Blake’s words be noble and wise,

 

while he sees the Angels’ rites as lies

 

and Nude Ladies as the jammiest Bits of Jam,

 

or as Brainless Bits of ham or clam?

 

He writes ugly Old Maids like me are Prudence.

 

This Bard bubbles up my patience, hence,

 

I wrote my own batty fang,

 

where the Devil welcomed Blake with a bang.

 

While Blake looked plagued and haunted,

 

the tipsy devil playfully taunted:

 

Your septic soul sours to the next level,

 

by singing your praise to the Devil.

 

May you enjoy my evil energy,

 

for now, and all of Eternity.

 

‘’Oh no Devil, I did not mean what I said

 

My heart was weighed down by lead

 

I feel so tired of snuffing the fire

 

of my delight and ire,

 

God will condemn my lust

 

He will see me unjust, and I will lose his trust

 

He will turn my heart to wood,

 

and I will writhe in hot Hell for good’’,

 

Listen to me, you stuttering Bard

 

my lines will hit you strong and hard

 

The road of excess leads to Wisdom,

 

The Goat's greed is God's kingdom

 

The Lord's advice is like lousy lice

 

As prudence is a vapid vice

 

But you Blake touted my truth

 

You harbour my hellish hunger of Youth

 

‘’But I must ride God’s Horse of instruction,

 

to avoid desire and destruction.

 

The Lion’s wrath will make me impure and unwise.

 

Disobedience will bring my demise’’

 

You ought not whinge and whine,

 

as you will be my fine Caprine.

 

You can enjoy glorious greed

 

and from Christ's chains you are freed

 

Blake’s voice becomes craggier,

 

and his hair turns coarse and shaggier.

 

Hooves replace Blake’s feet and daddles

 

he sprouts a tail, beard, and wattles.

 

His head gets crowned with satanic horns,

 

like a laurel wreath with brambles and thorns.

 

He’s now a Goat with a gormless face,

 

always last to win the race.  

 

He glumly grazes tasteless grass, 

 

dry as dirt and brown as brass.   

 

Once you were a boastful Bard,

 

who sang for Satan under the stars,

 

but now you are a silly willie Goat,   

 

and how gleefully I gloat.

 

Anxieties and Apprehensions about Academia - Shakespearian Sonnet

How will I cope with university?

I savagely hope not to slip and slide.

I want to down my days with dignity,

and not collide with the scholarly tide.

 

I must glide along and accept my stride.

I must follow rules to avoid my overstay.

I must never miss my morning bus rides.

I must learn from my lectures every day.

 

I should somehow balance work and play,

or I may collapse under the piling pressures.

I pray my Uni days will not grow grey.

Some-times of leisure would be treasures.

 

I will sort folders and I will move boulders.

I will find best friends and we will meet all ends.