Long Caterpillar Poems
Long Caterpillar Poems. Below are the most popular long Caterpillar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caterpillar poems by poem length and keyword.
What if the butterflies speak?
Will they say verses
About those tenebrous days peak
They endured inside chrysalis?
Will they lament
Thinking of the caterpillar wasted days
where the times they just spent
Only on eating, pooping,and around,to laze?
Will they cry
enunciating the efforts they did
While confronting the birds flying high
Or do they show the obscure places to hide?
What would they say?
They perhaps swiftly sway
To prove that they don't have time to convey;
Ain't they born just to relish the present second?
And also visiting the flowering lands fecund?
Ergo they have no voice
All they do is rejoice
September 12 2021
Alice had many friends, seems quite a few others
have fallen down the rabbit's hole.
Janet appears often at the foot of the mushroom arguing with the Caterpillar.
Rubbing her legs tired from dream running,
"Dern nightmare's always chasing me!"
Alice pokes her. "Miss Janet, why don't you stop running? Have a piece of cake?"
Somewhere, Janet hears her sisters voice listing sweet things, warm, cuddly kittens,
chocolate bunnies, candy canes...the voice fades in and out..
Screams too come from far off, "Get OUT!, get out..I hate you!" Her mother cries.
And lots of other nasty things too naughty for a little girl to repeat.
Smoke wreathes around the Caterpillar's head and the circles
spiral downward tickling Janet's nose.
"Alice?" "Yes Janet?"
"Why do they say there's no place like home?"
Alice frowns, "You shouldn't ask me dear,come...
let's find Dorothy for you!'
Hi dear friends, I’m back after a bad shingles attack and straight after that bronchitis verging on pneumonia.
Little Robin red breast bobbing up and down,
Would take away with glee, anybody’s frown
And friendly buzzing Mr Bumble bee delights,
Us one and all, he does not sting, it’s not his thing.
He visits flowers , red, yellow purple , pink and blue,
Which attract him, loves their pollen and alluring hue.
One day bumble bee and little robin decided to be human,
So prepared for tea and pancakes, without the gluten,
They saw Katy the caterpillar crawling on the lawn,
And invited her to join them, the following morn at dawn,
They all met for this fun occasion by the nearby river,
But an uninvited visitor arrived with shiny wings, such a diva.
A Hadeda elegant and loud of call thought she was an opera
Singer, had one thing on her mind, which was Katy Caterpillar,
She slowly walked on her stalk like legs towards this prickly
Little insect, wanting to swallow Katy who was so wiggly,
Down her gullet, but Robin red breast said no no, no,
And Bumble bee agreed and said, I think you ‘d better go
So with his wide spread wings the Hadeda flew away,
Leaving Bumble bee and little Robin to enjoy their day,
How wonderful was their idea for pancakes and tea.
Another visitor arrives, so famous, known to you and me,
Can you guess who.
He wears a top hat, mutters crazy sayings,
And carry’s a full tea pot , ‘do you want a cup of tea,
Oh dear, oh dear, my or me, he or she or maybe you.
He takes his watch out of his waist coat pocket and says,
‘I’m late, I’m late for a a very important date, no time to
Say hello goodbye I’m late I’m late I’m late’
‘It’s time for me to go,
Au revoir from your dizzy beau.’
It was the Mad Hatter, of course,
An Alice in Wonderland source.
What happened to Katy caterpillar, well fearing
For her life, Katy crawled under a nearby bush,
Did not intend to be a snack, or mealtime mush.
NB – THE WORDS UTTERED BY THE MAD HATTER – are both from the book Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll and some of my own.
HADEDA IBIS - referred to in South Africa as only Hadeda.
LET’S TENDS TO OUR FRIEND CAREN
Caterpillar in chrysalis,
mummified pain,
sleep it off.
Doze o beautiful butterfly,
wings clipped
but for a raging season.
Fair garden waits,
as your friends
tend to pests,
at your behest,
and string pretty things
that will win your smile.
Fly, with your similitude of pattern,
delighting in your fairy garden.
The twinkle of green and periwinkle
dusty stars, grins of slight mischief
in their wiles,
while you sleep, heaven’s child,
while you dream in winsome hues.
Recollect your joy,
touch the milky white moon,
sleep, sleep,
rest your toil,
leave it all behind.
Weary eyes turn to opalescent skies.
Arise, dear friend, arise
anew.
Beginnings wait for you…
The gang you tend, tender hearted for you,
waits for the embrace of replies,
ever faithful Caren.
6/8/2019
I drifted into a reverie,
where space time unraveled
into a vivid dream.
I was a child again, a butterfly.
Reveling in the hallucination
and visualization
only a child's imagination,
can twist, into a whimsy fantasy.
In a daydream, on a hot lazy afternoon,
there I was, holding hands with Alice,
of Wonderland fame.
She was sipping 'drink me' slurps to re-size at will,
going up and down, big and small, like a yo-yo on steroids.
Up rushed a White Rabbit with a Top Hat and pocket watch,
screaming: "I'm late, I'm late, So very Late!".
Next came a Green Caterpillar
blowing bubbles from a strange pipe.
He asked me: "Who are You, Who are You?"
Then came Cheshire Cat, with a grin so wide,
it scared the living daylights outta
the March Hare, Pigeon and Mock Turtle
who diddled up to join the Mad Hatters Party.
Finally, the Magical Queen of Tarts arrived
and declared: "Let's All Have Tea. It's Served!"
Turning around, she looked straight at me, and said:
"Who are You, Who are You?"
"Don't You Know Who You Are?"
"Where's your Invitation?"
"You can't Party here, without a Mad Hat on"
"Where's Your Hat, Where's Your Hat?"
"Begone, you Crazy Bare-Head Creep!"
Then Poof! With that, I awoke!
Phew!
As I walked under a Willow tree to get relief from the heat.
I saw a beautiful caterpillar crawling on a leaf as it eats.
Suddenly it dropped from the leaf with only a thread to hang there.
It spun its silk as it struggled to surround itself in a cocoon so fair.
Intrigued, I visit the tree daily, waiting for the chrysalis to open.
Finally, the day has come for the cocoon to be broken.
A beautiful Blue butterfly stood on its former shattered home.
I admired it as she slowly flapped her wings as they unfolded.
I sat down against this wonderful drooping willow tree of life.
Could our life be a struggle, wrapped in a world of strife?
We cocoon in this Chrysalis life as our new family grows.
Time passes as our cocoon ages and it begins to show.
It cracks open from the wear of life as our life ends.
Our father blows on us, and our colorful angelic wings extend.
His gentle breath lifted us into the golden heavenly sky.
Joyfully, we spread our wings with our hearts full of love, we fly.
Many among us want
To be an Arahant
Without quite knowing
Method of seeking
As a caterpillar
A plodding leaf feeler
Who wishes to fly
Like a butterfly
Which it will if it waits
In stillness sedate
Likewise
If we are wise
Attaining purity-peace-bliss
Wherein nothing is amiss
Requires neither doing nor seeking
Only becoming by blossoming
By inwardly turned sentience
In time dissolved patience
Yet to fast forward
We shift attention inwards
Looking at layers of resistance
In childlike innocence
Playfully disassociating
From narrow ego cravings
Marking them as of foreign origin
A far cry from our purity sanguine
And thus standing still
Allowing the divine to do its will
Free of want
We become an Arahant
In stillness
Sinking butterflies drip from the cocoon of consciousness
which no bee nor horse fly could understand for a blink,
and which even humans wish could retreat to the fallen:
Of a body, of a vein, of a spot across a field.
In what daisy does that petal float
where it found it's fateful bee that resists its wings.
Threats from the concrete river keep it mulling,
always waiting for the stem reincarnate.
Why caterpillar nor sunflower betroth it gift
is a bee's greatest myth.
While men worry of time not spent changing
black and yellow armies collapse with no wars raging.
Ripple through, wave goodbye, droplets leave for the sky.
A bee must drown,
a caterpillar will scatter,
only for the butterfly, with wings agape, to show its beauty in death that waits.
Sticks and stones will kill on sight
anything which proposes light.
Black and white stripes guide only us at night,
how funny that stripes are walked upon without a fight.
From the drab green-brown worm of caterpillars and pupae,
Emerges the phosphorescent butterfly so pleasing to the eye!
But, why oh why, are butterflies so superbly colorful,
That we admire the fleeting flutters and flashes as wonderful?
Is it to say: "Be warned I'm toxic don't you dare eat me!"
Is it to attract a mate or mimic leaves, or flowers, Tweedledum dee?
For the worm which once crawled on leaves with heavy down-trod tread,
Knew what splendor with patience lay within to burst out ahead.
Like the ugly duckling shun by clutch contentious, and mum,
That transforms to a magnificent white swan glistening in the sun!
Alice said: "When you have to turn into a chrysalis and butterfly on queue,
I should think you’ll feel it a little 'strange', I would, won’t you?”.
“Not a bit,” said the Caterpillar, with a leer and sneer for all to hear.
"You'll get used to it in time,” as it sucked its hookah into gear.
I stand aloof of time trying to shape a new path for the next journey to start. I wasn’t sure where to begin so I detach myself from everything and my spirit start to sing a woeful hymn.
It wasn’t composed of words; there wasn’t any structure, just the rhythm was playing in my head, the caterpillar was rolling all over the bed.
I walked towards “paradise” screaming on the floor and I went in search of it knocking on every door. It wasn’t made up of giant steps but it had unified depth and was reasonable enough to lift me out of the dark, and drive the sorrows away but nothing was there to keep the burden away.
I had to venture up the hill to relinquish the burden above my head and commemorate the wisdom of the dead but something was there for me to see that was washed out of the sea; it was the epitaph of a derailed dream inscribed on stone of a guy that could not return home.
He ran a regiment for many years and builds a castle on the hill but he could not keep still. He establishes hundreds of businesses all over the town and so his profit began to grow and he decides to end the show.
He had everything he wanted, he built rockets and missiles and earthly paradise made of inhumane sacrifice but something was still missing he had just lost the love of his life. She broke off the engagement to find a better path to heaven.
They had spent little time together and use to hang out by the river but they were just not right for each other, the archeologist and the politician have nothing in common so they went their separate ways, and the last I heard of him was that he passed away.
I stand aloof of time reminiscing an age-old dream that came alive on the big screen. I dreamt about it, but I wasn’t aware of it until someone told me about it, the set is getting bigger and my mind is getting sharper and the space around me is getting wider.
I took a walk into the woods looking for a new path but my mind kept wandering in the dark, but I keep moving to find tiny sparks of hope for a reason to stay alive.
It‘s the dream that is still alive that gives me the courage to abide and so I keep searching for the path that will pull me out of the dark.