Best Fluttering Poems
As I stood in my garden amongst my flowers,
a parade of blue butterflies was drifting;
past my lovely brilliant primrose rock garden,
they kissed a purple cornflower growing.
They stopped and caressed rainbow painted daisy,
drifting over to drooping bleeding hearts;
resting on white campania with their trumpets,
like sparkling garden gems quietly hovering.
Blue larkspur and columbine called for them,
the tiny rubies twirled over in a waltzing dance;
and between yarrow, sage and yellow tick seed,
they spotted echinacea and came fluttering.
Floating on over they kissed orange scabiosa,
then the assemblage of sweet butterflies left;
just stopping for a quick sip of fountain water,
and gone this parade of fluttering blue gems.
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August 11, 2015
Poetry/Verse/"Fluttering Gems"
Copyright Protected, ID 15- 699-038-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to Late Summer Premier Contest
sponsor, Brian Strand
First Place
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Submitted to,Any Poem Written in 2015, Contest
sponsor, Julia Ward
Third Place
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Submitted to, Butterflies Among Us, Contest
sponsor, A Skat
Fourth Place
See
…a monarch butterfly’s
silently
fast fluttering wings
flickering shadows
breaking
sunbeams…
—
(with inspiration from
Darlene DeBeaulieu’s poem “The Rain”)
(c) sally young eslinger 7/9/2024
Thanks to God ——
I St
I stu
I stutter
My voice it f
It fal
It falters
They think I am a nutter
My v
My vo
My vocal
Chords they flutter
My mouth does t
does twi
does twitch
My sh
shoul
shoulders move
as if they i
they itc
they itch
I do a small fun dance here
while si
while sitt
while sitting
in my chair
And if you are my audience
(that's only fair)
I w
I welc
I don't welcome your
fear,
but your enthus
enthusia
enthusiastic
applause here
***
Copyright © Darren White
April 27, 2017
The Beautiful Poet
The beautiful poet sat down one day,
writing her wows away.
She wrote down so many things and
turned it into the most beautiful thing.
A beautiful poem for us to read,
It really was the most amazing thing.
The beautiful poet, let her feelings flow and
made her words glow.
Her feelings ran through every line she wrote,
which made you weep a tear or two.
The poets, work was the most beautiful thing,
with every word you could hear,
the poets heart a fluttering,
with every line, which came straight from her heart.
The beautiful poet just made her work glow,
with every feeling, that she could ever write.
Pouring out and turning a word or two,
Into a beautiful poem for you.
As I stood in my flower garden,
a gang of blue butterflies came drifting;
they kissed a tall purple corn flower,
then, stopped to caress my painted daisies.
Fluttering and twirling in a waltzing dance,
between my yarrow, sage and yellow thing growing;
they stopped for a quick sip of fountain water,
then, the assemblage of blue gems floated away.
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March 27, 2019
"To be in nature remote, alone is to enter
a portal into another realm unknown."
Quote _by Constance
When broken I find peace in nature's essence,
surround by lush trees, birds, and butterfly wings;
I sink into tranquil peace and quiescence.
How lovely a butter' on a flower clings;
oh my- a bright hummer' pulls on my heartstrings !
In hidden places birds twitter songs for me,
I hear the whisper of their wings fluttering;
wish I had wings filigree and feathery.
Now a bumblebee glides his buzz uttering;
Oh, what are those sweet little birds muttering !
I feel a veil of peace falling in my mind,
wish I could bottle this feeling and keep it;
when a return to nature and my soul twined.
And all those fluttering wings will never quit;
for in my memory each scene- I commit !
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February 04, 2022
Poetry/Quintain(English)/Fluttering Wings
Copyright Protected, ID 02-1427-878-04
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Quintain (English)
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 03/17/2022
First Place
She seemed restless
Their gilded cage of love
That she had begged him
To imprison her in
With the bars of his passion
Seemed to be confining now
She never said anything
But he knew…
She felt different to his touch
He saw those wistful glances
Past the bars to the outside
And his heart bled
So he unlocked the door
But left it shut
Watching if the latch
Would show tell-tale signs
If the door would give away
Any secret whisper
Of an attempt to escape
His love
Days passed and there
Was no sign
No whisper
And yet…
At nights
Long after he pretended
That their love making
Had satisfied his hunger
He lay there quietly
Still hungry
For all that she was not giving him
Her soul
He heard her sighs of discontent
Long after he thought sleep had claimed her
And in the dark of that night
He prayed for strength
To carry it through
Every night
For next few days
He left the door just a little more open
Than it was before
Wondering….
If she would notice
If she would break free
He was risking his life
He knew it…
But he would not keep her
Against her will
He was not that kind of man
And she would not ask to leave
She was not that kind of woman
On the third night
He saw her eyes fix
On the half open door
A curious mix of wonder
And perplexity
Played on her face
He quickly turned away
Bur he felt the question
Lingering in the air
The sheer longing in her eyes
Burning in his mind
That night
She was on fire
Her love a blaze of passion
She responded to his every touch
Electrified
Energized
Feeding off his desires
Giving
Asking
Pleading
Screaming
Satiating him
Beyond imagination
She pleased him
In every way he had ever
Imagined
Had desired
And it was all he could do
To wait until
He knew she was ready
To reach that place
Where intensity rules
And everything else
Is subjugated
They were now fused together
No beginning and no end
As wave after wave of
Of pulsating ecstasy
Engulfed them
He slept then
Satisfied
Content
His premonitions buried
In the world of dreams
Until a stray ray of light
Fell across his face
And he opened his eyes
To find himself…. Alone
Alone
She had flown
And left a single feather
To remind him
Of her angelic form
Continuation in Part II
There’s a fluttering in my attic;
something’s alive up there.
The cat is getting frantic
and I dread going up the stairs.
I hope that it’s a bird,
rather than a bat;
unless I have misheard,
oh, I’d better get a hat.
I recall my sister’s hair,
when a bat flew into it;
it truly was a horrid affair,
she threw an awful fit.
I hope it’s not a vulture,
no, the louvers aren’t that big.
I hope it’s just a sparrow,
if it is, I’ll dance a jig.
There’s a fluttering in my attic,
some creature has moved in.
I hope it’s an easy rescue;
a challenge I can win.
Spring
invites
butterflies
to sup nectar
from fragrant flowers
and dance among the blooms,
fluttering in verdant fields,
spreading kisses along the way
riding on the rhythm of gentle breeze
in a gleeful dance celebrating spring
Their fluttering starts in moonlight
When Luna reaches zenith height
She croons as butterflies take flight
Magical night Magical night
I was in awe without askance
Mesmerized as if in a trance
A cotillion of circumstance
Butterflies dance Butterflies dance
On nights when the golden moon sings
They flit in nocturnal musings
What pleasure to me their waltz brings
On velvet wings On velvet wings
What a delightful sight to see
When they whirl with grand revelry
Dancing with such joyful esprit
In front of me In front of me
It's a garden party soiree
Beneath the moon and stars they sway
A charming celestial ballet
Then fly away Then fly away
fluttering willow
a magical wind dancer
flowing so softly
beautifully follows wind’s lead
fluidly without fail
mottled burgundy and orange
decorate the neighborhood park today
mingled with the yellow, red, gold
leaves like stained glass fluttering in decay
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October 22, 2022
Poetry/Quatrain/fluttering decay
All Rights Reserved, ID 10-1496-256-22
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, A Brian Strand Premiere Choice
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 10/23/2022
Third Place
Listen to the wind, fluttering the leaves,
tickling the canopy just for a lark;
laughter, applauding every playful breeze.
Lyrical notes that instinctively please:
as patches of light play tag with the dark,
listen to the wind, fluttering the leaves.
Sunbeams flicker through the branches of trees
alighting briefly upon gilded bark:
laughter, applauding every playful breeze.
As weeping willows start swaying with ease
to the delight of children in the park,
listen to the wind, fluttering the leaves.
The venerable old oak groans and heaves
standing in the wind, both noble and stark:
laughter, applauding every playful breeze.
Fairies do exist; if one but believes:
for their mystic magic, gives Spring its spark.
Listen to the wind, fluttering the leaves;
laughter, applauding every playful breeze.
Flutter
Look up I see
Their souls flittering past
Down here smell carnage, hear clink, slash
neighing a warning, another one falls
Crunch of bone- stampeding to death
Screams of dying horses
Take me from here
Flutter
For the "SOUND OF EMOTION "
sponsored by Nette Onclaud
Written poem date 6/1/201
by A. Green
Like the fluttering wings of butterflies
swiftly gliding through the open arms
of the haunting charms
of sacred skies.
Flags unfurled, a breathtaking fleet,
a royal flotilla, majestic and proud;
heroic mariners of will ~ and grace endowed.
An orchestra in motion, performing a melodic suite.
Wings, like sails, seize the wily breeze,
a mystical journey, far, wide and free;
tethered in the rhythm, of the power of the sea.
Lofty, drifting, clouds above, in silent reverie.
Date: August 7, 2022
For: Simile Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
No placement