Here are butterflies that skip
Dull steps of metamorphosis
No isolation in coocoons
No gorging grubs like fat balloons
Pure genesis on snow kissed flowers
Comes with no imperiled hours
Their slow, eternal life begun
Beneath a pink pearlescent sun
Reflecting tints from rainbows born
With pastel lights of endless dawn
Transcend through fabled time and myth
To form the rings of Saturn's mist.
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013
I feel a butterfly inside;
its wings are cramped within my breast.
The weight of flesh, o dull cocoon,
prohibits my free flight. At best
I only soar inside; my wings--
gossamer, light, remain untried.
I wait...I wait...until the day
the barred' cage is flung aside
and airy wings lift toward the skies.
I have felt this graceful creature
flutter faintly deep inside;
then, at times, so ardently,
I think no way will it abide!
It will be loosed! Its wish to fly
will push the bars of flesh aside.
Determined is this butterfly
to show its colors multiplied
and wing its way through azure skies.
The time is drawing near, I'm sure;
the throbbing swells within my heart.
The cumbrous cocoon, filled with life,
is bursting now, falling apart.
The butterfly is breaking free;
no more its wings will tightly furl,
but lightly spread upon the breeze
their filmy webs, gilded and pearled...
and, then, my soul will leave this world.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
A weak worm hatched
From an egg that is fragile
Trying to survive the world
Full of predators and guile
Romanticsm has been just an instrument
To be confined in the ego
And a faint serfage
On behalf of love upon herself
So she claims herself
No longer merely a companion
Metamorphosed as time goes by
A mild steel butterfly
Copyright © Shirley Candy | Year Posted 2013
Your wings create thunderstorms,
Onto my Lazarus heart
To be reborn once again.
Copyright © Phil Capitano | Year Posted 2017
from white light of death human souls emerge transformed and they fly back home
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: In one line (monoku #8) write what you SEE or FEEL
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
(What I See)
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
Like 'Sleeping Beauty' in the fairy tale,
awakened by her prince's lovely kiss,
earth's pretty butterflies, aroused, soon hail
new life from dark cocoon to brilliant bliss.
What miracle it is, from furry past
to work of art with intricate designs,
inside a magic canvas, when at last
the kiss of nature paints and redefines.
Confined once to the earth on shrubs and trees,
renewed now with bright wings to soar and fly,
these butterflies of beauty hug the breeze
for heavenly existence in the sky.
Our gift from nature...rebirth's mystery;
her metaphor for death and life to be.
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: Form G or GIVE me an NA
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Premiere Contest: Butterflies of Beauty
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2017
From birth, you've been the gentle glide upon
my tranquil streams of morrow's sky alight.
You've curved the earth and spanned blue wings in flight.
Through life, you float on rising streaks of dawn.
Through life, in motion, in your sun-kissed face,
your path is shown to me in dusky wink,
for depths thus stir and soften reds to pink.
From birth, you sprang from light's eternal grace.
From birth, you've been a hue so blush in truth,
bold, free and bare, transformed in dance and death.
As breezes tame, you flow like heaven's breath,
and through life's beauty, days return to youth.
From birth, I changed for you and you for I.
Through life, we drifted like blue butterflies.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2017
From the dark cocoon, the butterfly emerges,
Finally realizing she cannot control her urges,
To witness the beauty of the midnight moon,
The butterfly emerges, from the dark cocoon.
She flew from the shadows, out into the daylight,
The colors on her wings had never shone so bright,
She was meant to be here, her brave heart knows,
Out into the daylight, she flew from the shadows.
No more sitting alone, back in her little room,
No more hiding in dampness, darkness and gloom,
She had finally found a friend to call her own,
Back in her little room, no more sitting alone.
Andrea Dietrich's contest - "Swap Quatrains. Let's See What You've Got!"
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013
I wish I can go back , to where it all began.
I should have said something, I should have taken a stand.
I feel like a butterfly, but only in reverse...what I really am is LARVA,
the beginning the first.
My stories pretty simple, its not hard to define. Somewhere at some, strange moment. I transitioned.
& lost in mind.
I think I was falling IN LOVE, but didnt know, how to deal.
I disguised myself, like the wings of a butterfly, this became my shield.
I felt like a PUPA, not yet ready to open my wings....still growing and maturing ,
still not knowing. Anything
If I was a butterfly kissed, I would tell myself this.
There is no plan in life, we simply exist.
We are all butterflys , Morphing everyday, Finding our own stories, in very unique ways.
We cannot alter, what has already been, done
We can only acknowledge, & learn from our past,
and in the present, move on......
Copyright © cherie thomas | Year Posted 2013
She's the flour in the middle of a fertile desert soil
She dreams of my dreams when i dream she dreams dreams that we dream
She's a speechless pole
She's a footstep away from my soul
She dreams of my goal
She's my African queen
Her womb carriers the nation's poetry
She takes me back to my dreams in chains
I make my own God she believes
She's one minute past jealousy
She's the speed of an angry poem in the dark
The black paint building an arch
The spirit of a mic resurrected by a dead poem
Speechless pole stronger than cone
She's my poem
She's my poetic lyrical port
I can see by the blushes right under my rhymes
She's so beautiful she makes you read her repetedly
She's my poem
Copyright © Raymond Ngomane | Year Posted 2013
I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside
a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...
Written By: Christina A McCullouch
Copyright © Christina McCullouch | Year Posted 2013
Teetering on a tangent this pearlescent dew drop
Balancing midrib, it is but
A breath away from oblivion's slide, yet
Held in place by Mother Nature’s lace
A globule of life
An ocean full of microbes surfing its globe
Pirouetting with life’s balance it quivers in its emerald valley
Blinding sunrays bleeding colourful apparitions
From this tiny orb, a disco ball
Where butterflies ballet
A Sundance in glitter
A glide to nature’s symphony
A waltz upon a leaf
19 Aug. 2014
Copyright © Mark Trichet | Year Posted 2014
A newborn butterfly just broke out of her cocoon shell.
She spread her orange and black wings
and attempted her first flight.
She not only flew, she soared through the heavens.
The sunlight gave her warmth that she had never known before.
Little did she know, that this feeling would not last.
This monarch would cross paths with an uncaring, ravenous bird.
It grasped the butterfly in it's claws,
and with the bird's hungry beak, it tore the precious wings from the monarch.
A bird doesn't care who it hurts,
as long as it satisfies them.
The butterfly was delirious, from the pain and the shock.
Her beautiful wings were taken away.
She could no longer fly amongst the warm sunlight.
She now only knows the despair and the darkness that she used to be.
Now that monarch has become a caterpillar.
And, death has become her cocoon.
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2013
Running through the universe,
Looking for the light,
I found a broken rainbow,
Crying in the night.
I tried to glue it back again,
Fix it's bleeding heart,
But the circle had been broken,
Before it's song could start.
The push and pull of meaning,
Are tugging at my sleeve,
The million colours dancing,
In the cloth the weaver weaves.
Are burning in the darkness,
Burning in the night,
As the rainbow goes on crying,
Sinking out of sight.
And now I'm crying loneliness,
Crying on my knees,
The butterflies of emptiness,
Are dancing in the breeze.
Running through the universe,
Looking for your face,
I come back to the start again,
To find my tail I chase.
I know I've found my destiny,
I know that it is true,
The beginning and the end of it,
Is where we'll all meet you.
more at http://labyrinthoflies.com
Copyright © ness tillson | Year Posted 2013
Winged zebra dining on pure succulence,
beauty’s wanton need for satisfaction,
fulfillment of the blossoms scented craving
flowering nectar draped in golden orange.
What winds of chance have lifted your
frail wings, decreased the distance,
instinct slowly rising to a fevered need.
There was something about the way she moved
as if she glided - untethered - floated
through the chaos of a crowded room.
All eyes drifted, captured by her unintentional
beauty, mesmerized by the magic of such
She alit, soft cape draping her shoulders,
touched me for but a moment (as if to
fill a need) leaving me the better for
her passing, ever to dream
of her weightless wonder.
John G. Lawless
Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015
A butterfly flutters
In harmonious motion
In hush tones
Yarning the secret
In mellow lures
With glistering gestures
A tinge of speckles
A lasting fluence
Copyright © njeri hunjeri | Year Posted 2015
Am I dessert butterfly?
My wings harden each time I fly,
Against the sandy winds;
So, might my wings shatter
From all contrary pressures that I duel with?
I know they might crack or shatter someday
From over-pressured sandstorms,
Like I a broken winged dessert butterfly...
Like a broken winged dessert butterfly,
A raindrop's kiss is what I need,
So that I revitalize
My hardened wings and heart...
Only when a raindrop kisses me,
My wings will regain their former splendor and grace;
So that I can fly on and on,
Disappearing through a rainbow...
Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2015
A basket submerged in
is delighted to see itself
brimful of water.
But this is
a fleeting fortune.
It entered the river empty,
and sure to come out
Copyright © Anthony Obaro | Year Posted 2013
Just like a butterfly
her folded wings
await the flight.
Cocooned, she fears
what to expect
when from her safety,
With wings of flight,
she must escape
into a world
of new landscape...
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: Visualize, Scrutinize and Remark
Sponsor: Forever Malta
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
The picture was precious.
The infantilism made one breathless.
The pupa indolence was exquisite in form.
I watched those transmogrifications transform.
Diamonds in the ruff would bring the monarch prosperity.
The rarities of their beauty confound.
The eyes behold profoundly.
Their wings formed from the cocoon.
The pupa stage is now devoured.
One day it will become more than just a flight.
They will develop a sensitivity to their fight.
They will know that the wind is not to embrace.
Therefore, they will find a safe haven from the storm.
They will live their life span because they have been informed that
they are diamonds in the ruff.
The imagery of animation has been defined.
A diamond in the ruff is within those lines in which the writer metaphors
life to the imagination as a chrysalis stage.
Sagaciously seen via phases is eruditely engaged.
Imago sexually matured but diamonds in the ruff until life formed is
to procure greater days.
The butterfly will always affect nature ways.
Diamonds in the ruff are sages.
PENNED ON JUNE 12, 2014!
Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014
How long must I eat, gorge and be bloated?
How long will I be to destruction devoted?
How long shall I stay blind with eyes myriad?
How long do I wait for the onset of a new period?
Forever anticipate the dawn of a new creation
Salvation lies in a process of permutation
What was built must be torn down and broken
Out of its tomb elegance and grace will be woken
Till then I take all that this world can provide
For without them birth of the new will be denied
Till then for survival I fight, from predators I hide
And dream dreams of another life free and untied
Copyright © laszlo kecsedi | Year Posted 2013
The unusual fragrance looms above my room,
Its owner not yet known,
Its purpose still a mystery I assume
Sweeter than any other fragrance I ever own,
Its mood is ataraxia,
Cold soothing scent, texture so smooth,
Like dying in a peaceful euthanasia,
I have it trapped in a booth,
Smells like angels on a spring break,
Dancing gloriously in the water fall,
With a rattling feeling like an earth quake,
Its particles bouncing from wall to wall,
Clogged in my mind is a fog of disconcert,
As I battle my feeling to a perfect stranger,
The feeling of unrest causes discomfort,
As the unusual fragrance puts my heart in danger,
Copyright © Billy Simani | Year Posted 2013
Cramped in dark seclusion
A little soul in wait to be whole
Like a fish in a bowl of ocean
Adrift but can gulp a lungful
It’s the beginning of an end
Chrysalis out from the sphere
Emerging from cocoon bend
Exposed to the atmosphere
Dry, arid air touching skin
No longer blind and invisible
Can see and can be seen
Can feel, now discernable
Free from shelled captivity
The caterpillar crept in the open
Predators lurked in anonymity
Waiting for its grip to loosen
Dodging all dangers on its way
Inspired for struggling on its own
Resolute not to give itself away
Waiting till wings make it known
Mocked for how slow it moves
Ridiculed for its weird ugly shape
Maggot with nothing to prove
Fluttering is its only escape
Metamorphosis took its form
A change sudden and so swift
A butterfly transmuting the worm
Flapping its wings in the air; it lifts
People who are losing hope
Slowly inching and edging today
Like caterpillars, learn to cope
A butterfly, you will be one day!
Copyright © Meadow Morada | Year Posted 2016
I have crawled so close to the ground, where nobody notices me.. Just biding my time quietly, until I can finally fly free.
I am silently gaining my strength, until I can hide and grow.... To be unassuming doesn't make me weak, we are just waiting for my courage to show.
The cocoon I will build around me, will shield me from their attack... Once I am fully transformed, I will fly away and never look back.
When I am ready and strong, I will leave my safety, and break through the walls of this prison cell... For no other can keep my wings clipped, I will at last be free from this hell.
For the caterpillar will always grow their wings, to become a beautiful butterfly.... I just need to keep believing in the future, then one day I will soar in the sky.
Copyright © Becki Douglas | Year Posted 2015
Dead sores and bruised toes
Up and down the silent shores
Cuts deep, drilled by poisonous foes
In and out of dungeons and dangerous holes
Skeletal thin; hardly covered with skin
Shallow faced and hollowed cheeks up my chin
Been traveling in deserts violent and mean
Sad nights, weirdly pitch black and dim
Up, through and under misty mountains void of life
Stumbling and falling I walked on in the dearth of light
Now torn garments and a skeletal shadow braces my sight
Startling and bearing witness to the consequences of my fight
With bruised toes and sores thus I come
With deep cuts drilled by foes, I arrive home
Past misty mountains, through, up and above
I stoutly come home with love
Copyright © Dash Black | Year Posted 2013
A BUTTERFLY BLOWING BUBBLES
I was catching bubbles in a butterfly net for beauty’s sake
Needless ‘tis to say sans any success
The second I secured one it would summarily break
And I left with but bubbles that burst to confess
First I was cursed when the last bubble burst
A rainbow reflecting orb that orbited a galaxy of glory
But bubbles burst as was well rehearsed
And alas a lady’s allegiance became all but an allegory
The bubbles were the lady’s biblical sign of sorrow
A parable comparable to pain
The butterfly net an ineffective trap untamed by tomorrow
Because bubbles don’t fare well in the rain
That rain was a metaphor for a meteor shower
The sky’s tale told by tempestuousness and temptation
A symbol of sordidness and a parable of power
A fable able to create total alienation
The consequence of your comeuppance screwed things up completely
Not to mention quite indiscreetly
You messed things up in a major way
By a means of misery only the heartless may
You turned beautiful bubbles into beleaguering bricks
With flagrantly fragrant candles missing their wicks
You burst my bubble of beauty by begetting the misbegotten
And now you and those burst bubbles may never be forgotten
Because damn girl………..
You really and royally screwed things up
So excuse me as I try catching bubbles in a half-empty cup
© 2012…PHREEPOETREE ..~free cee!~
Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2012
Hopeful but its so mundane
Filling the hollowness with more empty pleasure
But it takes my hand and and walks me through this withering decay
Into the ecliptic silence,
Self medicated diluted dreams
A mixture of over stimulation and desensitizing me
Somewhere between ominous and beautiful
Letting the darkness consume my conscious brain
Until the sun can realign and pulls me back into this day
To overcome this strange numbness
Of self inflicted shadowing
Butterflies once warmed me up inside until I pulled off all their wings
Holding memories I cant forget while praying to a God who has forgot
But we are only allowed to keep the things that we have already lost
Sometimes living is not enough without sovereignty
As these flightless insects crawl back inside
Then perhaps through their death life would be more satisfied
Finger deep I draw a line then stand to face a blackened sky
I reevaluate Your presence now without You Lord then where am I
Because this is me You were my light, subsequently my faith has died
Somewhere below the surface of this shifting unstable world of mine
Copyright © Jesse James Forster | Year Posted 2013
Colorful and enchanting and mesmerizing so
They capture that one moment and make it seem slow
Or maybe time just freezes and maybe that is true
Because for that one moment your heart stops beating, too–
Plentiful and bountiful and stubbornly playful so
They tickle you and make you cringe and make you think ‘oh no!’
For you don’t want to laugh or giggle well against your will
And you’d rather get this over with than have it remain still.
Mischievous and rebellious and they don’t care so
They start off as a few but then exponentially grow
The more you try to get away, the more persistent they become
Until eventually you and they are inevitably one.
Charming to look at, their beauty almost makes them glow
But that’s when you’re the audience and they are putting on the show
Yet when the actor and audience become one and the same
The rules get real complicated in this dynamically confusing game.
Normally known as butterflies
But not the ones in the skies
You like butterflies, oh yes you do–
But not when their wings beat inside of you!
Copyright © Aya Salah | Year Posted 2013
Mother nature's stained glass art butterflies beat as her beautiful breath.
They glow and glide throughout the world as forever flight gemstones.
Once, a Monarch ice skated upon my hand as a golden and black heart,
shimmering oh so softly with secular elegance.
Butterflies pass as posh poetry through the prose of forests, flowers and fields.
When we witness them, they are glistening guitars with magical music for the trinity of our spirits.
At night, they gather as a cornucopia garden to sleep under the candlelight crescent as butterfly moon souls.
Contest: BUTTERFLIES OF BEAUTY
Copyright © Chantelle Anne Cooke | Year Posted 2017