My home, lull amidst balm, solace in rural dwelling,
escape from rampant load and skewed burden in towns,
close knit family loiter with passions swelling,
wistful hindsights swoon oe’r sumptuous tree top crowns,
I extol mint leaf purlieus, tranquil garland phase,
in course sentient, where friction, discord, worry,
is banished at the whiff of an ambrosial haze,
prismatic hues, those scenic views soothe when in a hurry,
seconds taciturn as the peep day sunrise looms,
to linger in silence yet caress the spring omen,
purple clouds tint cocooning garden blooms,
In artic winter, tranquil spot engulfs twin snowmen,
time counts for little when under bright shelter’s spell,
relief from futile rigours found behind green hedge,
sweet chirp from red crest bird cordons off this shell,
mine to cling to and seek refuge when life is on edge,
fresh fruit one munches in orchard dribbles down chin,
to pluck mushy berries from sprawling brambles,
and inhale scented gust with a surreal grin,
heaven in a haven, sweet home from madcap scrambles
THE CATERPILLARING WAY
Caterpillaring,
I’m cocooning oppression:
Freedom soon to soar:-
BURYING BRAIDED DESPAIR
AND RESURRECTING ASCENDING HOPE
Last night’s dream,
Was as if that sneaking nightmare, despair;
Always teasing the unaware mind
In a wandering, flowing stream:-
Rising today, I took strands of despair,
And braided them into hope-plaits;
I then took those plaits and buried them:
Tears watering their graves:-
Hope budded and blossomed,
As petals of audacious faith glistened:-
And in the bright sunshine of the new dawn’s dawning,
Meadows of forget-me-not also bloomed; and in fields of ourstory,
Butterflies feasted on encouraging truth, rather than lying history;
Cocooning hope now hangs on my mind’s branches of time:-
COCOONING IN AN AUDACIOUS POLITICAL
POWERING MONARCHY: 2025-2026
Circadian ticks,
Time-chart caterpillars of
Septic monarchy:
God’s butterflying wisdom
Canvassing divine guidance:-
It’s time for us to
Uproot inequality:
Sowing equity,
Let’s get to cultivating
Democracy’s divine abundance:-
Fertilization
Of renewed seeds of justice,
Must be daily done:
Ensuring germination’s
Deep-rooted, anchoring growth:-
With cocooning hope,
And metamorphosing faith,
Let us plow onward:
Butterflying equity,
And soaring democracy:-
Sown bigotry,
Must be made to rot away;
Plowed with damnation:
Extermination rendered—
Monarchical evil doomed:-
In God’s laboring,
Let us garden liberty;
Reaping fruiting peace:
Fencing true democracy
With shared equanimity:-
WOVEN IN THREADS OF LOVE’S FORGIVENESS
Time-tested love, bruised and battered,
Lay like littered crystals, sprawled out
Over the steel-plated stage of life—
Dismembered and crumbled—
Like stale cookies, whose particles have lost
Their electromagnetic-like attractiveness:-
Ingredients of envious spices,
Try to inhibit any and all adhesiveness,
That tough, threading love has kneaded:-
However, seaming forgiveness, knits
And weaves supreme love together:
Cocooning new soaring beginnings.
Indeed, the most fragile butterfly wings—
Soaring in monarch majesty—have conquered
Time-tested winds of trials and tribulations:-
Yes, “...to err is human…and to forgive, divine.”
May the weaving threads of supreme love, forever
Twine and bind, these blessed hearts of yours and mine:-
COCOONED PEACE
In cocooning grace,
sheltering in confinement;
soaring peace coming:-
IN COCOONING TIMES
Faithfully cocooned,
Caterpillars soon become
Soaring butterflies:
In your life’s cocooning time,
Seek God’s metamorphosis:-
rolling horizons season
holding life beyond what we see
when winter hangs in bare trees
silver branches bedding down in a hangover of lost green
beyond city limits, forests fall into slumber
waiting for a seasonal flip to loosen the grip of cold
huff and puffed winds cocooning one to a protective box
the hold of a robust time that loves its own white ruin
in this air of frigid authority, my life of reading to snoozing
a peaceful indifference like the weightlessness of wooing
free of complications
I have a soft spot for thoughts that drift to the mundane
like a lost mitten in the snow
maybe I'll keep the bedroom door shut and locked
till a warming April sun knocks its intrusion
slicing open a greener terrain
a garden that asks for seeding
for now, in these darkening days
shadows, like mob rule, carry their own power
readying slumber
folded in the margins of my book
its script of possibilities
Words
Are not sufficient to express
The devastation waves that crashes
Into a dead wish
Exhaustion
Engulf the body of cocooning tiredness
To sprawl upon hard cold surfaces
Reimagine arms around
Cognizane
The lack thereof
Or rather the insufficient energy
Of helplessness wailing
Heat
The boilover pits of Dante's Inferno
Trickling forlorn perspire
Puff of hot breaths suffocatingly pants
Numb
Glazed vacant eyes pumps fuel
Creaking of vector gears
Dumb words spill as arbituary normalcy
Deadpan disguised as half truths
If words were to be expressed,I chose to be silent
If exhaustion means to live,I rather be dead
If to be held down and abide, I rather grovel while i weep
If heat is a normal occurance in a lifetime,I rather freeze to death
If my intelligence precedes your understanding,I rather play dumb
Loneliness brings tears...
Togetherness brings tears too:
Despair can't bring joy...
With needles of pain
I crocheted emotions
into a web of depression
cocooning myself in defeat
Churning thoughts
shot a stone of memory
from the deepest cavern
of suppression echoing
the echo of an ancestral
Griots’ maxim: I cried because
I had no shoes; until I met a man
who had no feet.
Aroused and uplifted
from the inner sanctum
of doubt, I awoke, arose
and took a walk into fields
of gracious realities—walking
free as I wanted and ought to be:
aware that my cup of grace overflows.
I saw, indeed, aside a Sisyphus – stone
A lonely old little daisy standing alone
Fading and dying and nearly decaying
Closer to the brink of its grave bending
In her heart seemed a caterpillar, hanging
Suffering its final stage of pupating
Chrysalis cocooning grasping rasping
Jumping, humping and its fluid-pumping
Fast, haste, rapid, relentless, impatient
Fluent, steady, stringent, persistent
The start of its life, it appeared
Could, rather, be its utter end
It really did not want to die
Rather, it yearned to survive
This was the great reason why
Its undergoing tensions high
All these difficulties struggles and strives
Pains and agonies and agitations
Struggling, striving, senile suffering
Death, resurrection and life-giving
It emerged into a beautiful butterfly
And flew away above in the colorful sky
What a meticulous metamorphosis!
Birth-death-resurrection life-synthesis!
sleeping pile of skulls
rising from books long dead
tempting virgin
fluffy blanket smiles
cocooning her with protection
stardust dream angel arrives
telepathy subtle
young girl is learning
otherworld music
mystical magical moment
must be experienced
cannot be read in a book.
Grave Music- -
When I thought of music
Those the song never tuning
Musicians so are cocooning
Taking thy hymn from out my heart
That moment my soul grew routine
Just what does this mean
Grave music
The grave a funeral
I saw the composers
Music is dead
Yet we still sing
And so I screamed, 'Is that a psalm?'
The recurrent repertoire refraining
It was attaining
It was reigning
Grave music
Once upon a midnight splendid
My passion is a phonographic guitar
When I thought of the music
I awoke and flung the score
Much I marveled the ragtime bluegrass
By the grave I saw the artists
I heard a musical, copyright copyrighting
Deep into that darkness availing choir yet still praising
Singing my songs of songs
Grave music
I awoke and flung the voice I have dreamed of the soloists
Screaming aloud with pitch voice, my choice
Deep into that darkness playing
Ever praising yet
Still
Music
Grave music
1/4/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
Tell me how much you love me,
It's a secret, I won't tell.
Hiding behind closed doors,
You whisper 'infinitely',
I sit and dream about what has been lost.
"So, you love me infinitely?", I ask.
You smile a soothing wave,
A curve,
A beautiful halo,
Cocooning your shadow and light,
Thereafter, you come alive again.
There comes a time when each new day
is an unexpected joy -
the yes, of yes I am alive.
My quilt covers against the chill breeze,
holds me for sweet moments
cocooning in my bed
before ring to a morning salutation.
Golden light washes the hillside,
splashes on tomatoes and summer squash,
on greening apples and ripening peach
on blackberries growing along the fence
and sunlight like a lover
has kissed the trees on their green lips -
its yellow body shining there.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.