The Raw Madness
The raw madness waits in my secret garden,
where pretty flowers bloom all year long.
Where the bees and butterflies,
suck the nectar to fill their tiny tummies.
Words fill my mind and heart,
telling me what to write.
Where the red birds stop by to sing,
singing in perfect harmony.
I hear rhymes and then free verse,
as I begin to write.
As I
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Categories:
butterfly poems, bird, butterfly, poems, poets,
Form: Free verse
Butterfly Poems
Hues and fluttering,
Beauty in a microcosm,
In and out of sight.
An egg first; and then
Caterpillar; then in womb;
Then I rise, I fly.
Scent of pheromones;
She glides and circles and soars
He showers his love.
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Categories:
butterfly poems, beautiful, butterfly, change, imagery,
Form: Haiku
Nestlings
Nestlings
I write best
Close to the vest
I attest
It’s what I know
Best
In my nest
It’s what I
Behest
I write best
Close to the vest
Be my guest
I’ll unload
My chest
Be just like
An inner inquest
I write best
Close to the vest
Just sit tight
I’ll feed ya
The rest
Bill MacEachern
03/24/23
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Categories:
butterfly poems, age, art, blessing, butterfly,
Form: Rhyme
Write Me a Poem
Write me a poem of good things
Things that are golden to write
Sing me a sonnet of butterfly’s wings
Wings that are fresh in their flight
Send me a message on moonbeams
That I can read in the dark
Paint me a picture from out of a dream
A blaze from out of a spark
Give me the gift of a strong
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Categories:
butterfly poems, art, butterfly, poems, poetry,
Form: Rhyme
In the Whispering Night
In the Whispering Night
by Michael R. Burch
for George King
In the whispering night, when the stars bend low
till the hills ignite to a shining flame,
when a shower of meteors streaks the sky,
and the lilies sigh in their beds, for shame,
we must steal our souls, as they once were stolen,
and gather our vigor, and all
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Categories:
butterfly poems, butterfly, poems, poetry, poets,
Form: Sonnet
Bullet With Butterfly Wings
A butterfly danced through the crisp air of the northern United States. She may have been cold, but she loved the cold all the same. Chills and snow are so much better than the blistering heat, that’s what she thought.. The snow was beautiful, the wilting flowers were oddly beautiful in their own way, it
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Categories:
butterfly poems, butterfly, poems, poetry, poets,
Form: Free verse