Best Monarch Poems
hanging from the foliage
in your hundreds
repainting the leaves
in bright shades
of black and orange
with your waterproof
gossamer wings
of four inch span
so fragile and
yet so strong
enabling you
to journey south
across america
from canada to mexico
breeding new generations
as you travel
thousands of miles
with unerring accuracy
to the exact place
of your birth
to breed
a new generation
that will initiate
the process for
the return journey
to the north
in due course
you are indeed
the monarch
of butterflies
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer.
purplish buds
sprout from gray lilac branches --
daffodils bloom
Though all the tulips are gone
having served as desert for gophers,
the worm and the grubs stir in the wet spring soil…
and the hyacinths have replaced the crocus’s blue
the paper narcissus now, scent the air.
red breasted robins
hop between hummocks of grass --
bird bathes fill with rain
From the within the green pupa, soon
you will stir ..the membrane will thin, sheer as a curtain
in a spring breeze adorned in polka dots
and wings like the crinolines of spindle legged
virgin daughters at first communion...
you will emerge with lash long antennae ready to fly.
leaves of cone flowers
push through the brown soil of spring --
anthills rise
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer
butterflies born.
Forms: Free Verse & haiku
late summer morning
yellow goldenrod in bloom
monarchs out feeding
10/1/19
Contest: Writing Challenge, October -Butterfly
Sponsor: Dear Heart - Wiishkobi Ode
* A group of butterflies is called a kaleidoscope.
Dedicated To: Joe DiMino
An ultimatum flight giving fancy, to monarch wings
of beauty and grace.
Towards the blazing sun she travels deep
into the bowls of heaven, a fearless painted lady
etched *gold *orange* red*, with a touch of black
She becomes a chiaroscuro angel, a Monarch of lace.
Such utter perfection that even Picasso cannot duplicate
Ignorant of endemics of earth her soul is a warrior
through and through, she flies on and on ...
like a Monarch of old to the moon and back she goes,
espying every private room of angels and demons alike.
When God gives you your final ultimatum dear friend,
I pray that you choose well and like the Monarch,
you will choose to go where He leads you,
without ever asking, why ?
Written by: Mystic Rose
monarch resting
on the canopy
of queen anne's lace
posted on June 29, 2019
Majestic wings flutter in the air
over sweet blossoms that waft perfume.
Nodding heads affirm there’s nectar there
as a proboscis probes each new bloom.
Rays of golden sun paint velvet wings
clad in exquisite prisms of light
harboring beauty reserved for kings.
Bronze pastels are fringed with spots of white
uniquely applied by Nature's brush.
Terracotta orange wings take flight
their beauty causing flowers to blush.
Each butterfly’s an instant delight
richly ornate and regal in pose.
Fragile creatures that have little might
like a breeze, they go where the wind blows
yet seek milkweed wherever it grows.
Monarch butterfly, how majestic, how iconic,
Monarch butterfly, how beautiful are your wings of yellow and black,
You fly through the air with strength and ease,
Yet without a guide, only your inner GPS, to guide you along,
Monarch butterfly, we pray you are not without a home.
Monarch butterfly, we are all in awe of you,
Your gentle wings have touched our souls,
The will to keep going to your flowers for nectar,
We are here waiting for you to return to us,
We love seeing your soft spoken breeze, kiss our cheeks with your good luck.
Monarch butterfly, we are here waiting for your flight home,
We promise to plant milkweed, so that you can be fed,
We know when your come to see your special space,
That our loved ones gone before us, have come to say "I love you".
Majestic monarch butterfly, we will be here waiting for you to land,
Thank you for showing us your endless beauty.
monarch butterflies
wings flutter about the vine
grace the passion fruit
3 Monarch butterflies, her spirit still lives on
3 Monarch butterflies show me she’s not really gone
3 Monarch butterflies flying through the wind
To take me back to somber days where she speaks to me again
I’ll always remember
The things she has taught me
About being glorious
To live for the sake of being
To be kind and generous
And say no ill to anyone
The last time that I spoke to her
She was laughing and humming a song
The days that she followed me on
And spent time building me up
Telling me how to paint the sun
And laugh, looking back on every step
The times her and grandpa too
Would watch me as I went to the park
And looked down from the rocket ship
And smile at their waving arms
The times she’d take me to places
And comment on the beauty of every scene
She’d tell me “There’s beauty everywhere
There’s beauty in everything.”
When I saw her in the hospital, she smiled as I walked in
I sat down beside her bed, and began to hold her hand
She was in such critical pain but her smile never dimmed
I showed her a picture of her wedding day
She said “That’s my husband, I can’t wait to see him.”
3 monarch butterflies were hatched the minute she passed away
We were waiting days for cocoons to hatch and the butterflies to be set free
i got home from the hospital and was sitting on my porch
I saw a monarch butterfly flying close to me
To me it seemed to symbolize
That she was well and at peace
I am the monarch of the sky
can outdistance by the miles
every insect, every time
heavy rain or bright sunshine
like a fearless horse I run
in the heart of boisterous winds
like a skater coast and glide
in my effortless cruising style
beauty queen of butterflies
smooth and waxy my chrysalis
green and gold heavenly spun
into a diadem to behold
a green drop of dew my egg
like a flower on milkweed stem
birthing life in green and black
golden gilded for contrast
curious strong alone I fly
gliding vales fields
and mountains
from lowland Louisiana
to skyscrapers Colorado
though alone all summer long
in the fall I flock along
with a million more to fly
for two thousands airy miles
on two inches of wings fragile
tracing shapes of butterflies
fluttering satin color clouds
beating chords of air so softly
into an incredible audible sound
of few millions wings in concert
greeting morning in Chincua forest
Second Place: Brian Strand-All Yours-6/1/019
The orb and sceptre, ring and crown
each with its cross adorned,
displayed the rule of Christ alone
to mark your fealty sworn.
But stripped to simple linen gown
and hidden from this globe,
for power to serve your earthly throne
the oil of heaven flowed.
You sought to serve Him set apart
not bound by duty on your own,
but strengthened firm and from His heart
to bear your heavy crown.
We shall not see your like again
defender of the faith,
who served your God through every strain
and subjects here beneath.
God helped you keep your solemn vow,
God saved our gracious queen.
God keep you in our hearts as now,
and after you have been.
It laid so softly on its powdered side.
Amongst a million(tomb)stones.
A splash of wing-orange and black.
Shore winds wished to give it back.
To the white roses and sapphire sun
that swirled the garden sky-
It was forever dead.
Its soul having quickly fled...
its cage of silk and bone.
I whispered a simple prayer
( a childish thing to do)...
To a God who may not have cared.
Then glanced about to make sure that we were alone...
Nonetheless I was honored to witness.
This graceful demise of a monarch.
That flew straight into stone.
Turned me back into a heart.
Forever flitting about, the wind-blown shores of life-
William the First was our last king to come uninvited
though invincible armadas have sometimes been sighted.
Foreign kings were imported in cases of doubt.
Native kings had the habit of getting thrown out.
In the War of the Roses none tipped the scales
till the fray was joined by young Richmond from Wales.
A house like the Tudors for to bring to an end
on virgin queens you may safely depend.
Then came the Stuarts, who in Scotland had root,
but being too tactless, they were given the boot.
Though of Orange the house was not without fame,
some Irishmen spit when they hear Billy’s name.
George the First from Hanover as in matters English ill versed;
for affairs of state a state of affairs by no means the worst.
George the Third, however, spoke English quite well,
so Yanks up in arms told the Liberty Bell.
Thus Frenchmen and Dutchmen, Germans and Danes
have made their subjects rack their poor brains.
But the history of monarchs whose accents were poor
holds even today many lessons in store.
At the hustings all parties will promise us aught,
but after elections some memories are short.
“A kink is a man, no less and no more,”
said a very wise king as he sat on the shore.
“Let each of you here, thane or serf, be astute.
Don’t expect me to do what I plainly canute.
in blankest hour of night, a monarch sashays on winged dance...flaming the sky.
Contest of PD A:In One Line ( Monoku #8)
2/23/2016
The Land of Thunder Dragon,
The blest estate of saviour Guru Rinpoche;
The Last Shangri-la reigned by prophesied Wangchucks lineage;
Mighty Palden Mahakaley,the redeemer of the Dragon Power,
Sacred constitution,the holder of peace and order;
Graceful Jekhenpo,the guardian of religious theology
Ye all, the drums,the flute and the trombone bring,
Yellow and orange drangon flag spreads the peace of wings;
Gleeful fairies and deities join to crown His King,
Ere,pay I submit my sublime bow,
With words and hearts with full devout I avow
Song of mirth and serenity we sing and share to the whole beings
Oh,mighty Geser Gyelpo,on the magninoumous throne thou shines,
Showering compassion and happiness from thy heart sublime
The king of might and wise,Drukpas beacon of hope,
Who strives for the welfare of all,the real Pope
Thou espoused humanity, decency and love for all
Bhutan,the land of minute Eden we enthrall
Bhutan,the land of Gross National Happiness,
Unity leading to the Land of tranquil loveliness,
Come ye! Afar, Nightingale, sing thine song of victory;
Far and wide,the great musicians play their song of happiness admiringly
Hark! Thunder Dragon singing above,
Magnificent light sending his happiness and love,
The pristine greenery and serenity of nature sways gleefully ;
Soaring skylarks flourish the tune of peace cheerfully,
Here, the young poet,graciously inking his cordial gratitude ,
Where none can ink and pen his line in verisimilitude,
It's from his unclouded heart that speaks the truest delight
Bring the clarinet,trumpet and saxophone
Let's sing and play your triumphant
Upon thy ascendant we present our earnest acknowledgment
To honour His Gesar and his throne
With equity and tranquillity this nation will breath
Under the magninoumous reign of His King we sheath
Grandeur,thou my potent King,
Thine charismatic reign continues to gleam like endless ring
May the people be blessed forever
With our clean body,mind and speech,
We offer you the prayers.
This poem,I dedicate to the 5th King of Bhutan,coinciding with the Coronation Day of HM Khesar.