A butterfly flitted into view
Then quickly bidded me: Adieu
But its’ image there lingers still
Its’ gyrations of freewill
For I had been a butterfly
And yes my Life did typify
Carefree flitting (my chosen fate)
For the next “flower” I couldn’t wait
I paid no heed unto the wind
Going forward, undisciplined
Always flowers – always time
Looking for my next “stem” to climb
But I see sunset drawing near
When time and flowers will disappear
But no regrets for The Butterfly
The one I saw, and the one that’s: I
I kissed the rain and it flitted
away
like a precocious teenage tryst
~when wet lips taunted
the shivering dew on a morning rose.
but, roses were always too mature,
for adolescent whims and
too sophisticated to be genuine,
and way too honest to embrace
pledges of forever...
After many years we open to a page
where a crimson flower was pressed
and wonder why
its fragile existence was ~ saved?
After wedding in our church,
Valentine was left in the lurch,
Cupid offered red flower,
Wifey from abuse did cower,
It was a bouquet of chance,
Horror from romance,
Yes, any rat can turn,
None wept over his urn,
Cupid flitted away,
Battered wife now okay,
And he had been turning back,
Global chicks cut his slack,
He was no gal's kind of guy,
Lover he did not personify,
Little women beware,
Keep safe when dating there!
swallowtail was sent by my spirit guides
she flitted and fluttered from lily to roses
flirting with every blossom in the garden
I could see her aura, and knew she was angelic
being clairaudient, I could hear her heartbeat
she was proof of life beyond the physical realm
Seems like only yesterday we carved our names in the bark of an old oak,
Each letter was a promise of tomorrow and forever, dreams of our future together~
Endless time, though each moment flitted by like a firefly at twilight,
Moving in and out of focus as we tried to catch the starlit skies
So close and yet so far.
Lightly did the world rest
In our love like a feather
Keeping us warm in the fabric of time,
Each moment creating a memory.
Years pass by and are scattered like leaves in the autumn breeze
Entering at the cold threshold of winter, the fabric no longer keeps us warm,
Seams start to unravel as life becomes a threadbare rag where beauty once created patterned
Tapestries of color,
Each thread wrapped around the presence of your laughter and spirit of you becoming one with me~
Roughly life has taken the half of me that was you,
Death is the curtain through which you have passed and through which I will soon follow,
Afterward the stars may write our epilogue as we journey in realms unseen,
Yet our names will remain carved in the bark of that old oak.
“Butterflies in the stomach, a smile that won't go away, and it's like an addiction that makes a person yearn for more. It's not something one thinks about, it's something that's felt, involuntarily.” - Shelena Shorts
My dream within a dream -
I ponder this; what might it be?
When I was but a teen,
romantic notions flitted
through my mind like butterflies -
illusive, beautiful and bright.
I chased them as I dreamed awake.
Catching them was another thing!
I suppose the dream of many
is to find a love that’s true, but
I always longed for the allure
of love that lights the soul on fire -
a lasting, blazing deep desire.
Such love ultimately burns out
but for fleeting moments
I held a butterfly or two!
Sweet butterflies linger not,
They are dreams within a dream.
Oh, to feel again the tickle -
that flutters in the tummy
making me a little crazy!
How nice to be revisited
by butterflies now and then.
Though elusive, they show themselves
at times inside my poetry.
sunflower faerie appeared in a Kansas field
in the middle of sunflowers with an unusual yield
She flitted between the faces of these large flowers
Giving them a teensy bit of her sunflower powers
The sunflowers she landed on now had a face
And mouths that moved, but they could not chase
We want legs now said one with her new mouth
Sunflower faerie laughed and promptly flew south.
The cattails and frogs were less than amused today
By mallard duck, dressed so weird down by the bay
Duck named Tuck was getting ready to dive
Bees laughed at him, and raced back to their hive
Damselflies and dragonflies flitted around merrily
They liked ducks who acted silly and prissily
Did you see his suit? It is from way back in the day
Is he going to dive? Do you think he’ll find his way?
These were all thoughts zooming around the bay
His pink inner tube was ridiculous, by the way.
Jump already the marsh said to the crazy duck.
But he chickened out, this duck named Tuck.
Written: March 18, 2025 for contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand
**************
I swapped worry for a searing abyss
a painter brush colorizes gold fields
converting me into an orange butterfly
with shiny peach strokes, sealing my kismet
my raw life spreads wings
a cool breeze carries me on a winter sleigh
my bones feel cold and long for warmth
I await spring with bated breath.
for honeyed nectar, I dance overhead
my veins carry a sweet elixir
I waltz for my dream woman
seeking her by midsummer rains
my agile limbs flickered and flitted
I view a peony patch visitor
a sexy female fritillary with elegant curves
a challenge awaits, but I'll earn her love
A ghost-flitted out of the refrigerator today.
He smelled like potato salad.
Had he been eating it?
Or was he born in it?
The ghost looked right at me.
Gave me a diabolical smile.
For the first time ever.
I was terrified by the smell of potato salad.
She appeared in the middle of a snowflake
Most could not see her, but the fey always can
She flitted around the white snow sprinkling pixie dust
It began to glisten, as twinkly as fifties sequins
Where were her sisters? Had they not arrived yet?
They were along shortly, sprinkling around white glitter
When they were finished the snow had a blueish tint
It was sparkling as prettily as it ever could
The faeries were finished until the next snowfall
A wiz like no wizard before
A lion that wanted to roar
Tin man was hollow
That’s hard to swallow
But not like a man made of straw
Now Dorothy and her new friends
Took the road to see where it ends
The story is long
But don’t get me wrong
Click your heels three times and it ends
But heels don’t click well wearing slippers
You might as well try clicking flippers
Home, brain, courage, heart
They sought from the start
And Toto just sought chicken dippers
While seeking a voice that would bellow
They followed the road, strangely yellow
They strode feeling bold
But Toto was old
And also quite dribbly, poor fellow
But the wiz was a man behind drapes
He looked like he couldn’t crush grapes
His voice, someone cried
Has been amplified
And he’s got a balloon for escapes
What have I forgot or omitted
In this tale where weirdness has flitted
There’s witches, good and bad
And so much that is mad
That somebody should be committed
I think sometimes of the life there once was:
Of a time when birds sang throughout the woods
And insects flitted between the flowers.
But when greedy hands infected the land,
The beauty was ruined; life lost its home—
And the gentle calls of sparrows and swifts
Were quickly replaced with thundering guns
Foxes found their homes within dead bodies,
And owls on the hunt flew above shellfire;
Butterflies drank from the growing poppies,
Tainted by the blood of the innocent,
That grew like a plague sent to cleanse the land.
In some places, only the dead remained,
Strewn about randomly and carelessly—
Lying like dolls on a child’s playroom floor;
Never even given a proper grave.
With patience, they wait to be discovered—
To be welcomed home by beloved arms;
But, within all their rosy dreams of home,
Hides the truth they have known for far too long:
They remained forgotten; their names are dead.
Out of anguish for all those who were killed,
Nature returned to reclaim its power.
Ethyl an elusive mermaid and queen of the see
Met a similar designed butterfly named Laura Lee
You look familiar, your colors are exactly like me
Butterfly did not reply, merely, flitted out over the sea.
Ashy Prinia pair
Flitted across my garden
Catching something here and there
Yellow Portulaca flowers looked brighter
Once they saw this
Ashy Prinia pair
A lone lotus
Swayed as the gentle birds
Flitted across my garden
I wondered how
They stayed happy while
Catching something here and there
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