Eyes ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ follow ¦¦¦ butterflies,
And, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ sweat ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ at the empty skies.
So ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ they fall ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
And sting ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Till, ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ pain ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ gather
Out of ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ a cabbage-leaf.
"You ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
Turn, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ to ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
Glorious butterflies ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dead." . . .
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ beautiful, Earth ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
So ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ where ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ is our death!
(Blackout of Butterflies by Rudyard Kipling)
The rain pours like blessings from heaven
The lillies and ferns dance and sway swiftly
The dry soil turns swampy and soft
It glides away all that rests upon it
The feeling is so vibrant and cozy
The hopeful heart flies with wings, far off
Wandering like butterflies...
Calm is your nature so fair
O maiden of meticulous metaphor
like the white lilies in the garden, balms soft air,
amongst autumn’s signature rustling leaves
upon dried maples once green
In warm tones of terracotta her spirit roams free,
on earth she manipulates the mariposa monarca
butterfly migration in Michoacán’s fir forests,
clusters color trees with golden orange tones
trimmed in black lace philigree
skies are filled with beating wings
like a flurry of a rain's pitter-patter
O butterfly if you flutter by, I’ve left you aster
for your returns refuel in my yearning yard
Tonantzin our venerable Mother, goddess virginius
of virtue of vim, and vigorous Miss
Q3 keeper of chaos and order,
I’m forever thankful for your service ~
Theories of killers fall from blonde to grey rivers
A man with a face controlled by a robot
Rolls a kart with forgotten songs of Eagles and Hawks
I fought a cry seeing our friends goodbye
I heard a ringing I could not breathe
Somewhere there was the missing voice of make-believe
An acoustic drink ,a punch of a swing off a tree
The peeling worn out shade
Lifts the suade off a Saturday moon
Rebellious fires burn holiday seeds of pumpkins and carrots
I tried to be different everyone left but were never here
I tried to be cool but the string of limousines got tied up in a tree of lies
I tried to fall in love
But ended up a 3rd party fool
Into deep hours...when twilight sparks
Dew wisps, flaring all bright monarchs,
Tender comes dark reeling a hum
There, air-tossed wings, on glide,succumb.
Butterflies through eve's lull... I hear
Sighs waft of low taps, quite revere ;
Whispering mild as feathers flow
Lingering through spring's dance, aglow !
~ not for contest
The forest is blue and purple in my night dream,
but still the sweet butterflies flutter, twirl, swirl, and whirl.
Pink misty clouds like sheets of wispy cotton wrap me,
safe in my ethereal dream- as birds sing soft melodies;
and wildflowers are blooming in bright colors as I sleep,
running feet awaits
scampering on the ground cross
the leaf, pre day dawn
~
walk run on now
pre summer Caterpillar
fly Butterfly fly
5/23/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
Love paints graffiti on butterflies,
With neon sighs and gilded lies;
It overflows what once sufficed,
Turning sweet and nice to sugared spice.
It hangs bright lanterns on the breeze,
Carves secret hearts on trunks of trees;
Holding hands, a kiss, a hug just right,
Soon stretches longing far beyond delight.
Now every kiss leaves colors smeared
On fragile wings too richly veneered;
For love that adorns with wild excess
May leave love lost, to more or less.
Love paints
graffiti on butterflies
leaves, more or less,
to excess -
beyond the want,
left to be filled
sometime.
I am floating on a lily pad
surrounded by peaceful waters,
the sun called my name
and as I look up
I see a transformation
of human souls,
a graffiti of butterflies
crowning me
with color, love,
and beauty
Delicate creatures from heaven,
making flowers smile and giggle.
Wings lite as tissue paper,
colors coming from God's palette.
Graffiti of Butterflies,
makes the heart love.
Love seeing these little beauties,
as they flutter by.
324.
Imagine the World without Butterflies
When I was a child, I was captivated
By colorful flowers beautifully painted
But what was that creature with floppy wings
Like a flower's frail petal, attraction it brings
If a flower below to the land decorates
That creature above to the air celebrates
To the dance of the wind giving music
Its every movement is a graceful lyric
This flimsy flyer they called “butterfly”
In its absence, the flowers cry
So come butterflies…come to the flowers!
They need your fantastically propitious powers!
Oh! Imagine the world without butterflies!
It's just like a chopsuey without spice
Music without notes, theater without actors
So safeguard these most artistic pollinators!
-01/28/2015
(Dumarao)
*Defense of the Animals Collection
I am grateful for understanding how our children
are like the tiny butterflies…that land in our hands for us to hold…
and grateful I’ve been around…
to see the moment their wings unfold.
"We must say, goodbye to winter but do not be sad. It will come back again next year with a big smile and plenty of fluffy white snow. Now we welcome Spring to enjoy." By Poet
Winter is cold,
wind is so bold.
Ground fluffy snow.
Flowers awake,
not wearing cake.
Pedals not fake.
Colors so sweet,
like a red beet.
I want to eat.
Roses are pink,
tulips red ink.
Both make me blink.
Big butterflies,
bees with blue eyes.
Spring a fun prize.
Garden alive,
with a bee hive.
Flowers of five.
Some say "butterfly", some say "bee" -
it's the pollination Olympics from sea to sea.
I interviewed a flower, shy and demure -
"Which is the insect that you prefer?"
It turns out she wasn't so shy at all,
yapping like she was on sodium pentothal.
"A butterfly has such beautiful wings,
while a bee buzzes and sometimes stings,
and as far as I know, nobody has heard
of a butterfly ever saying a word.
A bee works hard and makes lots of honey,
but a butterfly looks better and his jokes are funny.
So, I married the bee, because he can provide,
but I love to see the butterfly on the side."
Onyx clouds of failed love
Floating away in sunburned horizon
Ribbons of light
Rainbows so bright
Gently inspire new views
Gone are acid rain puddles
Of teal toxicity
And neon narcissism
As new refreshing love
Like warm white water is welcomed
Flowing from sky into
My life like baptizing hearts
And hydrating larks in the bird bath
Love from Mother Nature
Encourages cycle of life
For plants and all creatures
Just beyond a snowlike field of dandelions
a green caterpillar munches on leaves
Could be its dreams fill his belly
sprouting wings with which it will fly
Much like dreams of romance
creating butterflies in my belly
Filling my soul with gold hope…
let the butterflies come
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