The ladybird emerged from her pupa She’d awaited this day for so long The day she would finally take her place In the family to which she belonged Four stages of transformation Had paved the way for this day Egg into larva larva to pupa Now her spots were on their way She came from an eight-spot family Her mum and her grandma and all those before Had shiny black spots four for each wing She expected no less and no more With growing anticipation She emerged from her shiny shell Searching for spots where she saw they were not She started to wonder if all was well Her mum told her not to worry What will be will be in its own good time Spots or not you are truly a wonder Never question the divine in your design Time went by and the ladybird’s shell Turned from orange to deepest red But not a spot was got whether she liked it or not Dread faded away to acceptance instead But it hurt that the other ladybirds Always gave her the widest of berths With no spots to denote her family It was like they could not see her worth But the ladybird held her mother’s words Cherished them close to her heart as she grew She was made by design of the lady divine To trust in the path was all she could do As the ladybird learned to accept herself So the others accepted her too For it turns out she had a way with words That helped them to see their way through This gift, passed down from her mother mattered more than the patterns displayed outside She could see to the heart of others Past the spots where so many would hide The ladybird spread a little peace in her corner Helped others find the insight inside Now each lady walks the path of her own inner truth Allowing her wisdom, not spots, to guide
Cycloneda sanguinea (spotless ladybird beetle) is a species of beetle in the ladybird family.
Photo by Emanuel Rodru00edguez on Pexels.com
Welcome back to Sunday rhyme time, it seems like months since we’ve been here but it’s only been four weeks, time has a nature all of its own.
The ladybird was very insistent she be featured in Sunday rhyme time. I first encountered her in a garden, busying herself on the leaves, then she came to visit me a couple of times in my home. When I still hadn’t written about her, she found her way into my hair in a shop full of fantastical wonders in the city of York. I admire her persistence and I’ve enjoyed her journey in this poem, I hope you did too.
I just wanted to add that I’m not completely out of touch with reality. I realise all of these ladybirds were different, and that it’s not improbable that I should encounter so many ladybirds in a short space of time during the Spring (even in a busy city centre). I’m aware that I was the one taking notice of the ladybirds, that if I hadn’t been noticing them perhaps I wouldn’t have seen so many, and that I’m the one who imbued them with the meaning that a ladybird should be the subject of my next poem.
Yet if I had looked past the ladybirds, if I had not given meaning to our encounters, if I had ignored the flash of inspiration that told me I should write about them, then I would not have written this poem.
We create the meaning, but from that meaning we create. I think that’s pretty powerful.