From our youth, we have been taught that beauty is only skin deep;
and “It’s in the eyes of the beholder”, is what we like to teach.
Many a head has been turned, and our hearts have taken a leap.
It was breathtaking, as our captured hearts skipped a beat.
I absolutely understand this, and I do tend to agree.
I have witnessed the carefree and feathered beauty of butterflies flying by.
Such artistic mixtures of colors often arrest and capture even this stoic guy.
And I’m reminded that such beauty was earned in a cocoon, and not given.
It was born out of strength and patience, and not made up quickies.
Time was crucial, and the work was hard, as the moth long endured.
The butterfly has taught me that beauty develops in stages and unfolds over time.
I must continue to learn to wait and dutifully labor through the hard times.
Millions of the Monarch Butterflies spend their winters in Central Mexico.
Come Spring, may I too, like butterflies, spread my wings and take flight.
12052015PS Contest: For Men Only( Would You, Could You) Write About Butterflies
Copyright © curtis johnson | Year Posted 2015
(A Fable in a Poetry Form)
Once there was a lively bee
Flying on the lake so free
He stop on a certain flower
That seems to grow each and every hour
He went near and nearer to it
Smeeling every petals so sweet
He turned to it 'round and around
And oh! Then found butterfly on the ground
It lies there as if no life
Under the heat of the sunlight
He flies to it 'round and around
And what's this? the butterfly make no sound.
The bee wondered what to do
He think everything he could do
He tried to wake the butterfly
At last it moved slowly and tried to fly
"I can't fly"said the butterfly
"My wings are so tired and weak."
"I could help you fly" said the bee to butterfly
"And help you a place and comfort to seek."
But the bee is to small to fly
He couln't carry the butterfly
At last he think a good idea
That'll help them both went above to fly
The bee flew and went to his place
And called every companions at pace
He came back with the other bees
Carried the sleeping butterfly at peace
When the butterfly was awake
She remembered every moments in lake
She called out for a feast
Invited each and every bees as a guest
Then the lake went colorful
All the flowers bloom from gloom
Then the bees are full of laughter
They and the butterfly unite forever.
Moral Lesson: It doesn't matter what you are and who you are and what's the difference between you and the other person. As long as you help one another, you will live happily forever after.
Copyright © Angelo Faunillo | Year Posted 2015
A prelude to summer… spring’s glorious awakening
Green meadows are alive, littered with hundreds of wild flowers
Soft and wet, bright, green grass sway, unhindered by morning rain
All awaiting warm sunshine to fill with more glee!
Out of woodsy habitats come young foxes and hares
Their watchful eyes keen as they search for a meal
Then hurriedly down a winding path the brave hares disappear
But soon become startled as a butterfly flutters by!
Note: For Kelly's "...As A Butterfly Flutters By" Contest
Copyright © Annalise Brigham...a.k.a. Audrey Haick | Year Posted 2014
This is a girl. She cried. She died everyday. Over and over again.
"Why is she still walking around if you say she is dead?"
That's not her. That's her body but her soul is missing. Along with her mind. That's why she is stupid. She is a zombie enslaving the human race. Her heart has also gone away. Because of her missing heart she can't get hurt anymore....that's a lie. With no soul she can't feel sympathy. That means she can't feel anyone's lies.
"Is she scared of anything?"
Yes! She is scared of rejection. She is full of fear. She cries fear, screams fear,she even bleeds fear.
Copyright © lysette marshall | Year Posted 2014
Mr. Spider is an ugly looking creature. He has a hairy face and arms. However, the hairs on the top of his head are somewhat thinner than those on his face, and scattered all over here and there. His hairs looked dark, rough, and stiff, but those hairs in his beard, which covered on his broad and flat face, were grayish white. Mr. Spider has a pair of sharply pointed claws on the end of his thin clumsy-looking finger. Moreover, he has hiding his sharp and crooked teeth behind his bushy beard. His two big, dark, and atrocious eyes never blink or move but fixed on one spot from behind the shadow where he was squatting down.
Ms Butterfly is an elegant high socialite. She always wears the colorful robe. She glides and dances in the air as if she were a piece of gorgeous floating corolla. She didn’t eat any solid food. She flies in the air and stops on one flower bloom to the other for delicacy of sweet nectar. She enjoys it, for it keeps her in good shape and enables her to maintain her coquettish figure forever. Ms Butterfly, however,
is an arrogant and selfish lady. She never considers the feeling of the others. She acted only for her own good, yet she was a just simple lady.
It was a sunny afternoon in early spring when Mr. Spider caught Ms Butterfly in his cobweb. When Mr. Spider saw her in his cobweb, he didn’t wait a moment. He dashed toward his prisoner. However, when he came close enough to grab her with his hands, he refrained from catching her, because he saw her helpless slender body trembling in the gorgeous robe, and her beautiful but fearful eyes, asking him
Since then, Mr. Spider has never left his cobweb. With his fascinating eyes, he has followed and stared at elegant Ms Butterfly from a distance, while comparing his ugliness with a gargoyle and thinking of his cursed life, as if he were Quasimodo on the bell tower of Notre-Dam, watching and admiring tenderhearted, naïve, and lonely Esmeralda.
[Although Ms Butterfly was not deserve for Mr. Spider’s pure and wholehearted admiration because of her frivolous, flighty, and insincere personality.]
Copyright © Su Ben | Year Posted 2015
A butterfly I saw pass by.
Brilliant colors and big dark eyes.
It flew a circle , landed by my side,
I knew I knew that butterfly.
We just stayed still and did not speak,
a tear of joy ran down my cheek.
Such beauty and grace ,I'd seen before,
every time my mom opened the door.
She spead her wings to say goodbye,
I hear her say,
"little petoot,please don't cry".
Although its fall,and I must go
There's just one thing I want you to know.
I must go but I,ll be back,
When the flowers bloom and the sun is hot.
Till then remember this precious day,
and remember I am not far away.
To flight she took,and flew close by,
in a moment or two ,she headed for the sky.
I watched her go,I started to cry,when she stopped mid air
and waved her wing with a sweet bye bye.
Copyright © Betty Landon | Year Posted 2011
I'm fine! Really, I am.
My eyes may give way
To emotions, but I've found
That hiding them is okay.
No one wants to live with
Their heart on their sleeve.
That'd be just fine if
People didn't care or need.
As it is, no one can
Survive. Not alone that is.
Clinging to one another and
Crying together like kids.
I want to surpass that,
I want to be able on my own.
In many ways like a cat,
I would do more alone.
Sometimes, when I think this
Loneliness pushes it's way in
And it gets so hard to resist
That noxious butterfly's sin.
Sure, I care for others
And want those feelings in return.
People are like wet covers
Weighing you down to get burned.
My feelings, I want to cut them.
To tear them down and rip them out.
But once it's dance has begun
The butterfly will win, no doubt.
No more! Leave me be I say.
You imploring noxious butterfly!
Feelings, I will not hear of them today
There are no rules that life goes by.
But within me the dance continues,
Those horrid things I want to forget.
Some sort of personal revenue
My noxious butterfly, my feelings, kept.
Copyright © Theresa a.k.a. Reecie | Year Posted 2012
It enters with a crisp tongue and a spinning pendulum
Like a stick-shift on 4 pivots
Making its way through a flourishing garden
Delicious sounds wisp as smoke through pardons
Painting destructive criticism with delicate regard and
Proceeding as moth with flame, eyre in eyre
and skein in skein
Somewhere in the reigns, meaning becomes tangled in the wings
As it writes a story of friction
The diction of the beginning, end and enduring ambience
As was, is, and needn't admit
It grips the listening agents and moves to the foregrounds of their lips
Roses blush from the insatiable pits of their stomachs
Breathing new life its first sentence
From the humbling utterances of syntactic structures
Modeled as people
Steepled in last years words
Mumbled and tumbled
Copyright © Zhian Mostofi | Year Posted 2012
OF ROY AND PINCH BANDITS
Claims Roy one day
to have been approached
by an angel of GOD
alleges the said angel
brought him news
news that he would pass to glory
complete with day and time...
Come the day... Roy
arranges meeting with cece..
.. his beloved siz..
Roy unable to confess..to cece..
the truth.. bout his departure
ROY goes to university next..
bids friends goodbye...
Roy goes to a stall
buys daughter five tuna fish cans..
a parting gift from a loving ROY...
Roy boards shuttle..
Roy sits next to lovely..
very lovely ladies....
Roy never one to let a pretty girl
escape untalked... says hello
girl snobs ROY.. Roy knows his end is near
decides to say last prayers..
asks GOD to send someone .. to deliver
the tuna to daughter..and his love regards
ROY is snatched sudden by deep sleep..
waves and waves of it.. ROY surrenders..
zones out.. awoken by a sharp mosquito bite..
..or is it butterfly.. looks everywhere..
lovely girl gives him a weird look..
shuttle conductor gives him a weirder look..
waves and waves of sleep swallow ROY..
Awoken by sharp bites.. many of them....
wakes.. now every ones.. giving sweet Roy..
very weird looks.. Swallowed by waves again..
bites starts... ROY keeps eyes closed.. twitching..
half asleep half awake.. distance laughs
more bites and more bites..twitching..
shuttle has reached.. ROY surprised he..
he still lives.. ROY tries to alight...
legs give way under him..
steadies himself then walks home..
ROY arrived home minus three cans of tuna..
with huge bumps to prove them biting...
after relating to us the story..
every ones burst... with stitches of laugh..
teasing ROY to death..OH... hes just met
the famous pinch bandits... Oh oh oh..
the pinch bandits
pretty girls they are
they way lay celebrities
who are too exhausted to
open their eyes.. pinch them
pinch them and again pinch mm..
and ROY day was finally come..home
Lewis K Nyaga
0239 eastafrican maritime
Copyright © LEWIS NYAGA | Year Posted 2015
The sun comes up early in the morning
Green leaves turn to bathe in the sun
Flower petals open widely and stand proud
As the caterpillar slowly begins to wake.
Absorbing her surroundings
Soaking in what it means to be "me".
In stature, in knowledge
In love, in understanding, and grace
Painfully she grows through cheers and jeers.
Not who she is, but
Rather what she is turning into
A young, thriving, vibrant butterfly.
Like a flower's petals
She is colorful, majestic, and strong
Her beauty will captivate and mystify for ages.
Copyright © Amanda Welsh | Year Posted 2006
On the wings of a butterfly
So pleasing to the eye
On distant dreams
The morning sun light
And the moon beams
Soaring oh so high
I feel so carefree
It’s as though
Nothing can affect me
No worries for today
No pressures on my back
No more of this life
Slipping through the cracks
A just sit back and relax
And watch the days go by
As I face tomorrow
On the wings of a butterfly
By Greg P
Copyright © Gregory Procopio | Year Posted 2011
In this world there only exists what can be seen with the eyes
so it is said but what has also been said has been written
This world is more than eyesight, more than taste, more than touch
to experience it all, well it's a must
must I take this all in stride or a full on run
I have this kaleidoscope full of butterflies
this laughable kaleidoscope full of butterflies near so dear to me
by its mention alone brings a smile to my face
It's taken me on so many adventures I can't possibly forget
I've fought dragons, mages, templars, ghouls, the undead
met elves, dwarves, mythical beings never sought to be real
don't tell me I'm dreaming when I say I've swam with a mermaid
traveled back in time to rewrite history
Now this kaleidoscope of butterflies, I admit I neglected
not for misuse, not for hatred
but for you, my dearest Josephine
In its colors, all I saw was you
for you represent to nothing but adventure, warm, fortune, wisdom
a necessity you are to me
sadly also I see my own death in you
for if you were ever taken from me
well I just couldn't rest or live till you returned to me
My dear, my dear Josephine, your vibrance is beautiful
and I love you dearly
My dear Josephine, my kaleidoscope of butterflies led me to you
look through it for me, let me know if it leads you to me
you already have my heart
so please if you see me through your kaleidoscope
take this ring, become my wife
take your seat on this throne and become my queen
Copyright © Russell Banks | Year Posted 2016
A Butterfly Fluttering
* * *
A butterfly and all things in nature, living and non-living are abundantly AMAZING!
Borne to niches; survival, dependent-independent, necessarily disguised by BEAUTY
Undeniably, dazzling, each scene, creature, and phase since the beginning, UPLIFTS
Together, the mortal task, survival amid the “Food Chain” taunts and TANTALIZES!
Through trials in life, man learns spiritual wisdom, and receives inner TRANQUILITY
Triumphantly God’s splendor decorates each new day; He watches EVERLASTINGLY
Flowers adorn life with fruit and honey; and a microbe working the soil FLOURISHES!
Luster, in nature embraces life-stretching dreams across all boundaries with LOVE
Yesterday, marvelous newness enlivened the soul, in springtime; all of nature YEARNS.
Fulfillment comes shadowing butterflies fluttering and thanking God FOREVER
Luxury tempts the mind, but souls thrive reverently upon God’s words: wise LIVING,
Understanding and replenishing our natural world, begins as purpose is UNITED.
Together, we must respect nature, conserve, and care; spread the word by TEACHING!
Tomorrows can be made” brighter and more wonderful by: replenishing, TENDING!
Earth can, again, become healthy and self-sufficient; safeguard its ENVIRONMENTS
Remember, respect Earth's resources, regardless of profits; life must be REGARDED
Irresponsibility must end; replenishment is the responsibility of all, INDIVIDUALLY.
No longer can we sit back and watch while greed destroys; earth needs NURTURING.
Greet the future with honor, strength; walk the path to heal; and work, GRATEFULLY.
Dedicated to my dear friend and neighbor, Joan, who has a special love for butterflies.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
February 17, 2010
Poetic form: Narrative, End Line Word and Acrostic
Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2010
Summer is lingering on and autumn is secretly chiming in
wild marigolds are blooming everywhere
and the earth is soaking up my sordid tears
The full moon is watching over me and predicting my destiny
Bright yellow flowers are springing up all around me
I can feel the heat far and near and anxiety is brewing in the air
Tall green trees are waving above but I cannot see
An oppressive spirit beside me is suffocating and ridiculing me
The insects are playing a harmonious tune as a matter of fact it is almost noon
butterflies are metamorphosing from their aged old cocoons
Look three white butterflies are dancing gracefully
around the bright yellow petals attracting the honey bee
A minute ago I was struggling to write and I had to put up a spiritual fight
I was weeping for what I don't know only the living God knows
I just stared at the blank page on my computer screen
It was as though I was blindfolded in a day dream
But nature had mercy upon me and dragged me out of the room
to experience the rebirth at noon so that I could see more clearly
Man struggling against man and building weapon to destroy the land
Walking up and down the evil corridors dressed in full attire
spending long hours in useless meeting shouting and bellowing at one another
making decisions about the world and playing tug of war with innocent lives
when they don't even know how to treat their beautiful wives.
Here I am sitting on the ground looking at everything around
a simple track that runs through the park is invaded by larks
and a conceited man riding a bicycle shone his flash light in my face
in the middle of the day and brazenly asked if I was ok
This is a frequent code that the nationalist use
I was able to continue on the track forcing the image behind my back
But as soon as the lark moved on the devil from hell come trodding along
With a loud music blasting in his right hand
I watched the world slowly crumbling in his hands
They think they have the answer for a deep spiritual matter
Yellow leaning against purple and the red is getting inkier
I rode my bike up to pleasant valley and looked down the ally
I sat in front of a white picket fence feeling very intense
The answer is simple but no one wants to hear it
You hunt us down like valiants in the bushes and wait for us in the dark
you put up your signs in the park to intimidate us
The world is sinking by jacket and ties
mockery and scornful laugh circulating in the sky
We have been held in bondage for years
Our children have outgrown out their age
And the same lie is repeated year after year
The whole world is watching your dangerous sin
You have hurt the hands of the one that is feeding you
White picket fences erected on swamp land
Big house built on a gigantic sink hole
The Potomac river is overflowing its bank
But nature is watching my back
there is no doubt about that
Its time to take off your jacket and tie.
Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2017
Here among the flickery hues of the maamba breast
Sits a butterfly in her bubbled cocoon.
The wheels of metamorphosis feel the friction
And soon her fragile colourful wings will glide the ever changing winds of the valley.
The mellow of the morning yellow sun will drool at wings
Whose tint strays unto petals ever-opening their breasts of sugar.
I'm the brittle moth of day,
Whose belly is wrapped in brown powder,
Whose wings never clasp;
Solacing in the wretch of a lonely log,
Hoping for the best that can come from the closing palms of insecta.
Should her innocent life fly into my thirsting latch,
Crickets will sing day and night to the babies will make;
Babies whose comeliness lays on their bellies of rainbow powder.
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Kunda Chamatete | Year Posted 2017