The Cricket

A cricket sat upon
My golden glasses' rim
He looked me in the eye
And I looked back at him

His eyes were big and round
One eyelid blinked a wink
I gazed at him and asked
"What is it that you think?"

He bobbed his head, stroked his legs
Playing a solemn tune
Then he answered wisely
Beneath the silver moon

"My life it may be short
Yet I work day and night
My melodies I play
With great purpose and delight

For those in wood and town
The two-legged creatures great
Reminding them that if I cease
They'll know it is too late."

He hopped right off my glasses
And sauntered to the trees
At night now when I hear him
I bow upon my knees

september 15, 2oo7
judithpiper

***
My friend Brian, designed an awesome art piece based on this poem.
Then his mom-in-law quilted it.
***

"The Cricket Knot"

Click here to view: the artful phases of The Cricket Knot. 

A picture of the quilt....

Whitewash

Prowling in veneer
Camouflage of empathy
Words of deceit
Laced with honesty
Dripping with sincerity
Twined with humor

Cloaking devices

Prey uncloaked
Vulnerable
Seeking
Desiring to trust

Trust won

Back stab
Daggering the prey

Prey dazed, confused

Six months pass
Prey empowered
Enough to speak her truth
Out loud

Predator pounces
Spewing lies
Without remorse
Pseudo-righteous cause
Character assassination

Prey shell-shocked, disbelief

Prey again speaks aloud
Predator's mask cracks
Unravels

Then the whitewash
Erasure
No accountability

Prey wounded, stifled
Soul violation
No roll call
Another non-person

Deja vu