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Prose Poetry Butterfly Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Butterfly

These Prose Poetry Butterfly poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Butterfly. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Butterfly poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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"To love butterfly's, you must
first like caterpillar's."

                   Poet Ken Jordan

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In my summer meadow

In my summer meadow

Lavender colored milkweeds, growing between dark  purple butterfly peas, are 
perfuming the warm air. 
The color combination is especially pleasing to me; I love purple.
Perfectly round globes of milkweed are a magnet for bees, butterflies and a variety 
of other insects. I see lightening bugs among them. 
The buzzing of bumblebees, wasps and honeybees is accompanied by the chirping 
of crickets and the happy twittering of the meadow birds. 
Yellow Sweet Clover lends it's perfume to the summer symphony of soothing scents.
Tall spikes of blooming Johnson grass sways dreamily in the bright sunlight.
Right in the middle of a soft pink wild rose bush, a bright red butterfly weed is the 
center of activity for many species of colorful butterflies. A brilliant blue"Two-barred 
Flasher”  flaps it's wings as fast as a hummingbird, while the orange-brown Buckeye 
rests peacefully.
Next to the roses, a blackberry bush is promising juicy, dark berries soon, while the 
Mulberry trees are already providing a welcome sweet snack for birds, deer and 
A patch of wide- open orange daylillies is a cheerful spot over at the edge of the 
trees and an emerald- green hummingbird enjoys their offerings.
There is so much life and beauty in a small patch of meadow! 
I love it!

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The Story of Mr February

It was almost sundown
Early in February
When the wind blew the trees down
When the thunder in conjunction with the lighting seemed scary 

But up in the sky
Mr. Blue looked down with a smile
When the Sun had to say goodbye
And the weather all over the town shared the same style

Down in the ghetto
Critical conditions were experienced
Poor houses were defeated, together with young stores
And it brought merciful conditions with high expenses

While around the city
The weather seemed to be curious and deliciously
When the thieves became stronger and high in velocity
And the weather results brought Miseries and a concern of Brutality

When that happens … It’s a sign that Mr. February is Back !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

By: NH Kandjimi

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The Color of Autumn

I lie on the grass, still green and soft as a featherbed underneath, 
lift my eyes upward to the sky and feast on robin's-egg blue and 
bleached cotton candy. Mineature butterflies drink the last drops 
of nectar from faded blossoms. Tiny yellow wings fan the heated 
air while leaves drift to land softly on my skin and spray russet 
bubbles through my lazy view. I close my eyes, absorb autumn's 
bright notes, relax with heart and soul full of gratitude and peace.

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Springtime Interlude

Slowly I am drifting, fluttering across a lush and green meadow, 
seeking out the life giving nectar of your flower. 
Your ruby red pedals spread wide and inviting, 
anticipating my arrival. 

Gently I land upon your silken but firm pedal. 
I kiss you softly as I move slowly across your surface 
towards the soft and sensual spot 
that hides your precious gift. 

Caressing and probing with maddening desire 
I thrust inside you.
Overwhelmed with ecstasy and pleasure 
I drink the delectable essence of your being.
I drink your life giving juices 
until I am drunk with your intoxicating liquid 
and can no longer feel the wings upon my back. 
I pull away to recover my senses. 

Slowly I regain control 
and caress you softly with my pollen covered hands 
then bid you farewell. 
As I lift away with sadness in my heart 
I am comforted to know 
that I will find you again next spring.   

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its a prade
that don't fade
crowed streets or near
to watch

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your on my mind
all the time
you are my sunshine
i think you  in this way

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Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Free
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2014

A butterfly 
floating by 
 space - 

as the wind.....

Free fluttering 

No worrisome thoughts
of debts owed,

a butterfly,
to pay -

I wish that I 
was a

on a breeze
the sky -

Free - 


the wind.

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Watts Is Burning

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Watts Is Burning
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2014

Watts is burning, and the powers that be,
show no interest in putting out the flames -

Six fiery days of hell erupts, set ablaze by 
a racial city government of bigots, that are
intolerant to black people.

Police brutality, is at an all-time high -
and racial discrimination towards us,
is running ramped, causing the worst
racial riot, in Los Angeles,during the 
so-called Watts Rebellion -

Damn right, we are rebelling......rebelling 
against the corrupt city government -

Our show of strength,and unity, to standup 
for our rights,in the face of adversity, Is a
significant turning point, in the African 

The Watts racial riot, Is the worst in 
Los Angeles, history -

Arrest: 3,438
Injuries: 1,034
Deaths: 34

We are fighting for our Civil Rights,
Equal Rights, Equal Pay, A Right To
Vote, Better Living Conditions, And
Fare Housing.

Watts is burning, Six days of hell - The
racial uprising, has  cloaked the city.......
choked It, and strangled it, as dark plumes
of smoke, from gunfire and explosives,
ignite into a war zone, administered by
LAPD and the National guard -

War is declared on both sides, and neither 
side is resisting. Blood is shedding,
white blood -
black blood -

on the streets of Watts - The city's racial
 bureaucrats have put barricades in place,
to control a poor,and oppressed people,
confining us to our neighborhood's, leaving 
one way in, one way out -

And Watts, continue to burn - Officials don't 
give a damn, If we turn our aggression, to
violence In our own area -

Watts is burning, the Chief of Police,
have turned his head to the situation,
as fire rages all around.

The riot, told the story of South L.A., which 
was perpetrated by arrogant, egotistical 
whites, who felt superior to us -

Watts is burning, for six Ugly days of  Hell,
Watts, is on fire, and no one give's a damn -

burn baby burn
let Watts burn to ashes - Black Ashes,
cremated by bigots in uniforms, masquerading 
as human beings - No one gives a damn about
Watts, or our people.

Shout it out from your mansions in Beverly Hills -
Shout it out from the Sunset Strip -
Shout it out from your town car's while driving
on the streets of Hollywood -

Watts, is burning and  continues to burn.The 
rich don't give a damn about us, and the
conditions in Watts -

Burn baby burn! Let it burn to Black Ashes
Watts is On fire Hell is unleashed -

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Nestle between dancing trees
a rock bed creek
leaks out to the beckoning sea
leaving abandoned thongs 
peeking through the sands of time.

A proud lizard 
strikes a kingly pose
on his throne of dead wood;
butterflies dart to and fro
the incense smoke air; 
dirt, dry weeds and blooming flowers
share a common scene;
and on the brow of the crimson horizon
gulls play tag in the vaporous sky.

As if lions of Sisyphus
roaring waves gallop
up to the shores
frothing white manes
parted by knuckle rocks
anchored in sand.
Planted upon the seashore peak
a giant menorah beckons curious orbs:
its tallow fueling its votive purpose.