These Butterfly Sun poems are examples of Sun poems about Butterfly. These are the best examples of Butterfly Sun poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Fair Maybelle trode through the morning dew
She peered through the foggy haze
Her blue eyes saw what I tell you is true
For the fog did part and the sun did blaze
And a pure white unicorn met her gaze
Now it may well seem it would run away
Or perhaps she would rather shy
But against her nature she hastened to stay
And an unseen cord drew her nigh
Till Maybelle's feet she laid her by
So sweetly Maybelle stroked her hair
She longed for her touch once more
But Maybelle ceased, and she left her there
For what a *wight could see, that her heart was sore
Till she meet her love on the Highdown *Tor
So Maybelle walked o'er the far and near
And her one-horned friend followed light as a bird
And they travelled on without a sight of fear
With but one care and nary a word
That winsome twosome persevered
At the long last, Maybelle heard a pleasant sound
The sound of a rollicking song
And the butterflies danced in the air all around
Whilst her love held her dearly and long
If it could, could it be that she was the theme of his song?
So the three of them lived in the fairyland *wold
Where the sun slips off to the moonlight's glow
Where the wind blows warm and the streams flow cold
And the daffodils thrive in winter's snow
Now here is the end, as you surely know
* Wight: A person
* Tor: A high pointed hill
* Wold: A wood or forest
I can feel myself falling
Into the bottom of a hole
I hear the sunshine calling
That I make her my new home
I'll bask in all her glory
Penetrating into my soul
I'll write her an endless story
About this place I'll call home
Butterflies will surround me
In the beauty I adore
Much happier I will be
In a place with all her warmth
what new plant is this
flowering bees this morning
and butterflies too?
running to and fro
a group of ants in action
searching for food
bathed in the sunshine
shimmering pools of water
pulsating with life
It's easy to become lost in the idea that only things in life change you;
rather than you are always changing in your creation.
When you look at demons in the haze, marvel at the haze.
Demons are feeling homesick.
Be true to everything you are and thrive on.
We all have demons, it's up to you on what to do with those demons.
The most dangerous are the ones unknown.
She is herself. A beautiful demon; not hidden behind a shadow.
Her magic is infested in my desire.
She is beautiful for I can unravel her thoughts.
She expresses to me the words intertwined with my ambiguity.
Riddled with love; I sleep in her soul.
She is my butterfly in our cosmic cannibalism.
Summer fun in the glorious sunshine,
high spirits and glowing smiles.
Everything seems worth while. With
warm embrace upon you're face.
Summer is in full bloom, mother nature
she is exquisitely bliss in all colours of
flowers and upon butterflies wings and
many more marvellous things.
An uplifting feeling from an energising
sun, luminous green hills and a stunning
blue sky. Every colour so bold and brilliant.
This wondrous world is truly one in a million.
I was a child catching butterflies
on the yellow flowers
sprinkled on the green grass
at the roadside
They were beautiful butterflies -
and some tiny blue ones
which gave different shades of colour
as they were struck
by glancing sunbeams
There were little four-winged ones
which puzzled me
why did they have four wings
while the others only had two?
I was catching butterflies
a thing called progress
tore up the yellow flowers
on the green grass
at the roadside
and there are no more butterflies
and still I do not know
why some butterflies had four wings
while the others only had two
Summer is a lemonade
Summer breeze blowing the grass around
with a warm sun kissing my face
blue skies wrap and hug me
as I watch the butterflies race.
Summer gives me lazy days
coloured flowers and dancing trees
smell of charcoal and starry nights
brings back childhood memories.
Summer is an endless beach
sun cream, bikinis and beer
salty seaspray, fish and chips
postcards saying "wish you were here".
sunburnt shoulders and fun fares
laughter never seemed to fade
grab the ice and share around
yes Summer is a lemonade
It's mid-summer again with its mild and moist morning,
Soon whisked away by the mid-day sizzling breeze.
The gorgeous wildflower drinks of the sun's offering,
While butterflies sip of the lily blossom's wine on the lees.
Mid-summer is a time when love beads of rain cool the air;
The gentle beat of its falling seem a song of beneficence.
Then using the rainbow with his incomparable epic flair,
The Great Poet punctuates this grand verse with elegance.
As the birds are resting from their morning serenade,
They now allow the cricket its course at center stage.
The songbirds are cooling their throats in the shade,
Letting the hot sun with its prickling heat fiercely rage.
As the summer sun begins to appear as sweet red lips,
Like a dessert of refreshing sugared berries before me.
The evening breeze cools and my brow no longer drips,
As my eyes grow heavy and I dream of the new day to be.
This poem was first published in ‘Stone Voices Magazine’
—a publication that truly emphasizes spiritual realization.
It appeared in the Fall 2013 issue.
My hands are the hands
of a gardener,
fresh with soil, sunlight, and rain,
with the breath of flowers
and kisses of moisture.
I sprinkle seeds over the earth,
like a holy man sprinkles sacred water.
The soil: grateful for my blessing.
The birds: grateful for this small fare.
I chant incantations and listen
for the growth of roots,
for the rustling of sprouts,
pastel green and tender, spiritual
I rain dance and praise the sky,
hold my hands to the air,
forming a small bowl
for the rain to fill,
to be the stimulus, the birthmother,
the liquid that makes
the garden whole.
I ask the sun for waves
of light, the breeze
for strength and circulation,
the fertilizer for sparkling minerals
that infuse the roots, stems, and fruit
On my knees I dig
with bare hands into the soil:
my hands, like intimate dancers,
lead the busy prolific weeds
to another existence, to their rebirth.
My hands are the hands
of a gardener,
fresh with soil, sunlight, and rain.
From my fourth full-length collection of poems
©dah / dahlusion 2013
all rights reserved
My gratitude goes to publisher, Christine Cote
for bringing my work into her spiritual realm,
and for sharing with her readers one of my poems.
The Heart of my Friend
The wings of the butterfly are painted so unique
With God painting them how am I to critique
So vivid and beautiful as they float on the air
Showing off their beauty but nothing to compare
The mountains out west are so majestic and tall
The colors are beautiful especially during the fall
When the sun rays hit them they show all their might
The colors so crimson when the sun goes down at night
The colors of the rainbow before and after the rain
Figuring out how God made it makes you wanna go insane
From the red to the purple I know God had a plan
He’s painted the world with a perfectionist hand
The heart of my friend is as beautiful as can be
Like the wings of the butterfly it shows her beauty
Like the mountains out west her colors so pretty at night
Like the beauty of the rainbow it’s reflected by the light
God’s touched my friends face with the tip of his brush
Her smile like a monet and her voice is so plush
You’ll understand one day if she ever lives in your heart
But I’m not sharing she’s more precious than art
There’s no other heart like my friends this is true
Her smile so amazing and her eyes so imbue
She’s one of Gods wonders and God sent her my way
I’m so blessed to have her in my heart every day