Long Caterpillar Poems
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Edward, remember this.
Just like you were a caterpillar
Before you became a butterfly;
A bud before you blossomed one spring,
You'll continue to evolve and flourish
In this vale of tears.
You've got a lot of living to do, my friend.
Life is what you make it! Embrace it fully!
Make lemonade out of your lemons,
Take time to smell the roses!
Treasure quality time with friends and family.
Celebrate even the smallest of victories.
You're traveling through this life
On the right trajectory; stay the course.
Let nothing veer you off it!
You're the sea captain of your destiny;
Sail on straight ahead!
I needn't remind you just how cruel
This life can be. As you're well aware,
It isn't done knocking you down flat.
You'll feel it's punch again and again,
And you'll fall like timber each time,
But you won't stay down, Edward.
You'll get up, dust off, and carry on living!
You woke up today, didn't you?
You rose with the morning sun
Grateful to be alive another day
To see it set over the horizon.
Yes sir, you'll rise again like the Phoenix
Whenever life floors you with it's hook...
And float along with hope in the clouds!
Whenever the blue sky turns ashen gray
And warm sunny days grow
Unforgivingly cold; from bright to dark,
Never lose faith, for you'll continue
To feel the presence of God
At your darkest hours, I promise you.
Keep on living life the best you know how!
Keep on growing, personally and spiritually.
May your future continue to be bright
And gravid with infinite possibilities!
Letter To Your Future Self Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Date written: 09/19/2021
Metamorphosis: a word for butterflies,
Said the science textbook in school,
Positive transformations connoted her young soul.
Age brought in a new realisation,
Life, a one-way road with two destinies,
The darker one a metamorphosis too.
The endlessly bleak days,
Dwindling success,
Slipping confidence,
Broken dreams,
The road to change now a narrow old bridge,
Fragile and frail to support her lofty dreams,
Permanency etched in this new route,
Metamorphosis it was; not a passing phase.
Yet, butterflies her eyes chose to see,
Bright pupils midst tear streaked face,
Light shone on the narrow bridge,
Carefully she lugged her weight.
The caterpillar crawled, awkward and slow,
The bridge creaked, threatening to break,
Yet held on to this struggle everyday,
Patiently trudging to the light ahead.
Metamorphosis, still a double-edged sword,
All her struggles could tip her either way,
Yet, she chose the route with pain,
Trying to metaphorse yet again.
She knew it was a story of win or die,
A second dark metamorphosis she wouldn't survive,
Yet this turnaround she chose,
To gloomy life, she refused to bend.
Cocoon she became, the saddest soul alive,
Tears became her appetite,
Broken she was in a thousand pieces,
Her delicate spirit a ruined mess.
The pain made her numb and weak,
Shallow breaths and fiery cheeks,
She closed her eyes, her bright pupils gleaming,
She felt her soul float, she felt existence cease.
But, most of all she felt her eyes open,
Her lips curved a natural smile.
Wings she bore as beautiful and delicate as her spirit,
Her body she felt, weightless and symmetric,
Effortlessly, she flew upwards,
Gliding through the wind, peaceful and sound.
Embodiment she now was, of beauty and success and all things gold.
Bleak fluorescent rooms a thing of the past,
The bridge her metamorphosis, the pain her badge of honour,
She knew it was her destiny, sweet success and enchanting beauty,
She wasn't made for this toil and grub.
Yet, that was her life, the struggles and the pain.
She was now, an angelic dream,
A lover's ballad, a sailor's home.
She was a child's wish, a fairy tale,
A land of exotic fruits, a colourful maze.
She was a drug, an elixir of life,
An ecstatic dream, a virgin queen.
She exists as immortal bliss,
Her scent seaming all earthly souls.
The sky turns grey and a bird sings a song.
Sun is hiding truth and lies;right and wrong.
Clouds drift into shapes imagination does create.
A butterfly smiles knowing the caterpillar’s fate.
The branches of a tall tree wave goodbye.
A nest feels safe for the bird learning to fly.
Moments unwrapped like a gift to treasure forever.
Loved ones are a blessing and all the times together.
Round and round the merry-go-round we go.
Darkness...we wait for a new day to show.
Little girl giggles as her pink bubblegum is blown.
An old man walks slowly towards sparkling hope unknown.
At the beach the waves roar a lullaby,
Sandcastle of dreams built strong to the sky.
Once upon a time in a field of dreams and stories,
Past and present creations of both pain and glories.
Night turns to day and day turns to the night,
Shadows tiptoe to and away from light.
Some smiles on faces are suddenly upside-down frowns.
Life can be a masquerade of some uncertain clowns.
Gift unwrapped with ribbons yellow and pink.
Gallery of paintings that make you think.
Holding hands watching cotton clouds drift across the sky.
Sitting on a red bench thinking many questions why.
Footprints in sand oozing between my toes.
Snowman created and nowhere to go.
Humps on a camel traveling amongst the desert sand.
Sand dunes caress sky of a forever searching land.
A baby is born to live on this earth.
Waving bye; death becomes memory’s birth.
Bouquet of daisies on a table covered with lace.
Children roll down a hill full of laughter as they race.
Tick tock the time on this earth stands still.
Tick tock another year waiting to fill.
Ups and downs;roller coaster ride of life to explore.
Sunset, sunrise-each starry night never seen before.
Caterpillar crawls against the very cold,cruel ground.
Soon to realize that butterfly moments will be found.
Listen to the world’s silent screams.
Dare to cradle hopes and sweet dreams.
I stand still and I see a bird dance across the sky.
I close my eyes and I see hope with wings that will fly.
Yesterday and today walk together hand in hand.
There is a shadow of light and darkness in this land.
1#
Brewed tea
Wife and myself
Nothing between us
2#
He was metamorphosed
Into a frog
When his wife had left him
3#
I needed
A lonely woman
Thousand years back
4#
She shivered
In yellow sun
Struck by her coyness
5#
God travels
With three suitcases
One for me
6#
I kissed
Her frostiness
And my lips turned icebergs
7#
The bed
Gets embarrassed
At our nakedness
8#
Her hands
Stopped me
To pick evenings
9#
We two rested
In a cave of Kundalini
Behind the waterfall
10#
The alien woman
Travelled six moons
To deliver her baby in a burial ground
11#
An eagle swoops
On a field –mouse
Tables of wedding
12#
The woman kissed me
I felt her hollow ribs
As if in a spring dream
13#
The woman’s hair
Struck by a gale
Made waterfalls
14#
My wife locked
Me one fine evening
In my neighbour’s hole
15#
The rats are away
When mice take in
My wife’s clammy face
16#
The summer rain
In exasperation
Took wings to raid the moon
17#
Lolo my wife
Her green sleek steps
Thundered an innocent fly
18#
In the dead of night
God made two wives
One for me one for my neighbour
19#
My neighbour’s wife
Delivered a child
When I was asleep
20#
The woman said goodbye
And I took a fish for dinner
I mistook it for my wife
21#
My wife is a canvas
Where I paint
My forebodings
22#
A painter’s apprentice
In sheer foolishness
daubed in red my wife’s rear-view
23#
A squirrel saw my wife
And in haste
Lost her guava
24#
I was caught in neighbour’s bedroom
By my wife last summer
I lost my glasses
25#
A wolf entered the graveyard
Unannounced
And annoyed my wife
26#
Sarah my wife
Lumbering
Dizzy commuters
27#
Sarah wed me
And in brief forgetfulness
Greeted my neighbour
28#
A tiger ate Sarah my wife
It happened by accident
The tiger knows
29#
Morning bell
Wake up call
I want to sleep
30#
Pola my pet fly
Fouled things up
She ate my wife’s breakfast
31#
My dog Pintu
Hydrophobia
I set him free on my wife’s posterior
32#
Eons ago a butterfly
Gave birth to my wife
Now, a caterpillar
33#
A hard slap
Stammering
Hurricane Sarah will win
34#
You have gathered enough winters
Woman sighs
Leave one for me
35#
The woman flapped her wings
To clouded mountaintops
Silky as white
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Sausages are meal items that should be avoided at all costs by very small rabbits. Tiny white fish with silver fins carry red flags that denote danger in a tide. So hop jump up a tree then. That should be interesting and safe as solace springs from branches and all wood can be shaped. Mistake not a red dialled mustard cake for a pizza for the wires hidden can explode. Uncharacteristically benevolent to invoke trust then erratically boom to give a red dust to the air. Explosive are the surrounds in many a dusty floor. If a beautiful lady is fishing for pike she must first wear a bonnet shaped like a turtle's shell. For to avoid the many pellets thrown by passing fleas,flues,ants and beetles. Humming a silvery tune to entice the marvellous beast for the summer feast and festivals of the sun are counted on long sticks. Spinning tops can often be made from small plastic piglets whose round shapes assist them to spin many many times. So entertaining for classes. When the mind is silent the caterpillar ghost files open to rearrange and sort the many piles of assorted mind excursions into organised pan and shape. With a slight touch of wisdom from elders and books. Knowledge can be prevalent in a kiss of fresh air or the breezes of a mountain stream. Steaming is not unusual at this time. Temperature raised then cooked to even a once fragmented core. Apples are amazing creatures if placed by a garden gate in a large barrow. It takes a long time for a small five centimetre pig to gather together the fodder. All the differences are displayed in a global pie. Pieces are even, exact and work together harmoniously in a giant whirl. Mélange bien remue bien tra la tra la tra la on. And obviously a seven acre sea horse cannot work a diameter six barrel no a trapezium. When x to y an x to z take a bucket and wear it on one's arm. Trading a tailor for a trademark. Teaching turtles to talk tantrically. Fishing in undergrowth for left unsustainable weapons of old. Goblets of greed gone. Homing a house full of horses. Hemming heifers. Saintly suns and mystical moons. Many hands many ingredients. Many times a foretold faith. Xx lovingly living life lifestyles. Xx denominations. *** calling cards caressing *** evaporation xxxx acrylonitrile *** and now I will have a coffee. ***
Form:
Great are his exploits
honour and rank
he's celebrated
he's immortalized
He's fondly recalled
Back to memory
The great legends of Old..
Great Chief Waiyaki wa Hinga..
Aged nine he killed a lion
with his bare hands...
When the imperialist came.. Waiyaki..
Raised a huge Army armed with bows and arrows
Testing the might of the staff which spat fire
Fore told by the great seer Mugo Wa Kibiru..
..see people dressed like butterflies
they come from the sea of the hawk
and move on an iron caterpillar to the
lake of the eagle.. they carry a walking staff
which spits fire killing instantly... your weapons
will be useless when faced with this magical staff..
The great seer advised the people to learn
The pale skinned colonizers magic..
At right time armed with the right knowledge
The land of the slopes of Kerenyaga..
Will be liberated by its sons
The mountain of splendor and mysteries
Where people since ages ago have offered prayers
To the Supreme Deity Ngai Murungu..
Who is all loving and of good virtual
The supreme deity's Prophet Mugo wa Kibiru...
Is office of the chief seer..
Water Tabernacle the resting place of - Managi
The greatest Holy relic and the Box that is the relic
I recap they say Great Chief Waiyaki
Was betrayed by the pale colored..
foe he had called blood brother..
Angry Waiyaki took out his favorite club..
Mathiokore.. it was nicknamed..
Within minutes brains of the Great captain
were scattered on our rich soils
The invaders captured Waiyaki..
Our great Chief and opened his skull
Waiyaki died not.. they buried him alive
Head facing downwards.. Great Chief..
You should have heeded the Great seers
prophecy..
...don't allow the butterflies to enter your homesteads...
Buried alive..
Immortal Warrior king fate
The annual pilgrimage around
Kereenyaga - the abode of Ngai
Goes on each year.. pilgrims
Make seven stops as they
Circumbulate the Holy Mountain..
Of stories and more stories from the land
Where gods.. immortals.. and mortals
Rub shoulders looking each other..
Eye to eye... tales of KENYA
code 254
LEWIS NYAGA
On such an important day when daylight wakes up in the morning with a blank screen looking in my face and the carriage is dragging the midday race, and colorful flags flying high in the sky while the message hope lingers on the seat of wisdom muttering a faint monologue through its hot breath.
I held on to my cup of tea and looked all around for some company, but all the TV networks have gone astray with live location shots lingering at the back, where have the entire journalist crew gone, they have been waiting there before dawn, whispering a message in my ears that was very clear.
The cinematographer is standing tall, with scripts and sketches of the brawl and significant shots and direction written on the bottom of the shoe entrance and exit, the timing and the clue, the location and the news, everything was on time for the evening news.
I could not read one word on the shoe and could not understand it on the news because it was coded with caterpillar sauce, while pound shilling and pence danced the shimmy, Euro dollars and cents are making a big investment. I watched the Japanese yen running in the den and Chinese Renminbi shouting for glory.
The TV screen is hanging all around and the blank screen erected on the wall is groaning in the background and the soldiers parading in the back are having fun. An old man with a beard and hoody covering his ears suddenly appears on the screen held a lantern. The light illuminated. And the old man suddenly faded away it is the miracle in the dream.
You scream and you shout everyday about privacy invasion, but it is the TV that causes you to receive numerous victories, we are not going back to the old age when cats used to scale the tree to hide from dogs and rats use to dash around the corner at the sight of a cat. Now cats and dogs can live together, and cats don’t eat rats anymore for supper. I have much more to offer that you cannot see, the gate is open come around and meet me; a cake is hidden at the bottom of the well and the pirate dish with a symbolic message carves out on top, is waiting patiently.
And as for that old pair of shoes you can stitch the message on the side in a word or two and hope that your dream will come true. I want a brand-new TV set before I place the bet.
WHEELCHAIR BOUND
Dots appeared and disappeared
a single sunray flashed onto
wheelspokes, canvas seat
comfortably frayed
bought secondhand
her unexercised legs flabby
window bars rusted, panes cracked
nobody cared
there she sat thinking about
cooking porridge with cinnamon
tricky to wheel in
two meter wide kitchen
lighting gas stove sitting no easy feat
this was charnel ground
no cash oozing pockets or
colour disappearing into op-art
no bra-strap laughter
or fruit bowl decorations
no one visited
thought wheelchair bound infectious
what if they too had to
sit for a narrow cold shower
or pop-a-wheely to see
a bird swallow a caterpillar ?
here trees were being chopped
their screaming pain slicing her nerves
cockroaches, ego-deaths
not knowing about this phase
of unpalatable life
she wheeled to a sunny patch
her relegated cement square
stared at Sun questioningly
He smiled at her pain
saying it was not in vain
she grimaced, then smiled in return
remembering cinema days
mall ice-cream, walks on beaches
vague memories round and round
with wheel tires, like neglected hamsters
nobody wanted to hoist wheelchair into air
then car booth, all too much trouble
had too much to do
shattered human perceptions falling
to be buried
chair had tatty armrests for lifting body
she could not buttocks rise up
to call street boy for corner shop loaf
hunger had to wait
till neighbour knocked
Buddha said all bodies merge
with charnel ground
sooner or later heads, arms, ears
are broken down
images across a sieve screen
Plato saw this too as shadows
still they feared coming near
locked into an eye flap timeline which said
what if I too ?
when wheels become legs
and humans less, sight clears
what was once flotsam and jetsam
floats away into goodbye bays
enjoyment of senses merely a persistent
layer of life
wheelchair bound is part of Plan
so sound, a mechanism for peeling
two wheels become friends
grinding ignorance, flattens what serves not
unfolding a Mode of Goodness
every spoked circle has a
tacit teaching agenda
No experience in virtue vain
In the beginning was darkness, like in any other shell
Then a crack and out came the typical caterpillar
Into a jungle with so many like him and unlike him
Moths, caterpillars, dragon flies and other killers
The journey had begun, to grow, eat and grow
He never knew he was the one, but he knew he wasn’t slow
Who was to mind the sloppy caterpillar?
When all he could do was grow, eat and grow
Who was to look beyond his youth regalia?
When all his peers had theirs ripe for show
Little did he know he’d shed it all away
But until then he had nowhere to go
All he could do was roam his tree home
All he could do was grow, eat and grow
The world looked at him as the butterflies’ brother
Telling him to fly despite having no wings
He tried to strut his dull green colours
He sought solace in his deadly sting
For long he longed to soar in the sky
To be the envy of all and sundry
To don rainbow colours like elder butterflies
After such thoughts he was always hungry
Lord knows the world was moving too slow
And all he could do was grow eat and grow
So ate he did and big he grew
Then into his cocoon he obliviously stumbled
His shell was cracking and little could he do
Except accept who he was and be humble
As he emerged, his world hadn’t changed
But what he saw was the same thing different
As did the world when it set its eyes on him
The sluggy, the slow worm was now flying colours
In his presence, his brothers were moths
A background in a Da Vinci masterpiece
Marvel and wonder in their thoughts
They wondered if this was who their brother is
High he soared, higher than ever
For the world to see him for he was now visible
It thought he’d been who he was since forever
It knelt at his feet and put him on a pedestal
Higher he soared and colder he grew
And harder it proved for him to breathe
That’s when he knew exactly where to go
Where he could grow, eat and grow
He had grown in this world as a caterpillar
And this world had made him callous
Now he had flown in this world as a butterfly
And it named him flying colours
So the butterfly it chose to butter
And the worm it chose to shun
Is it ignorant or is it too blind to see
That the worm and wonder are one?
On learning to become a guru...
The following artfully crafted back in the day
(actually poetic endeavor presented below
written a few scant years ago) in response to
unexpected positive feedback received on
the most popular social media platform.
Unbeknownst to this unsuspecting witty mortal,
a reverberation attributed to butterfly effect
linkedin to hotmail twittering Facebook member,
who resides within Bhutan, his dignified volition
accorded me magnanimity titled sage without any
influential collusion from Russians bestowed yours
truly with said honorably distinguished appellation,
which humility of mine humbly accepted without a
protestation, though never would I brazenly adopt
spiritual holiness, yet flattered to share such rare
pronouncements, when unsolicited feedback lobbed
in my direction (way before advent of Information
Technology Revolution) often tendered, kindled, and
belittled this gentle human, sans when bullies slung
byte ting bit torrent loathsome scandalous red zingers
targeting personal vulnerabilities, asper being under
socially withdrawn, painfully shy, plagued with speech
impediment (severe nasality) caused by submucous
cleft client, plus weighing where needle budged from
absolute zero pounds, topped with passive demeanor
susceptibilities conveniently converging to establish
this bruised Earthling ideal choice as scapegoat, no
kidding with dread to endure endless days, weeks,
months...a lifetime channel of opprobrious, noxious,
malicious emotionally demonic, cannibalistic, barbaric
abominable, damnable, horrible diatribes chipping
(dale lee) at what measly self confidence shielded
fragile psyche fast crumbling into grist for hungry
caterpillar, unbeknownst that flight path randomly
followed by a representative of Lepidoptera order,
would ineluctably set very subtly infinitesimal
fluctuations within air (currently supplying biota
with requisite oxygen), also training perturbation.
Patience Young Grasshopper mine alter ego spoke
when yours truly figuratively chomping at the bit
more accurately fretting with anxiousness when
boyhood body of mine underwent metamorphosis
impossible mission to thwart biological transformation.