IN A GILDED INSTANT
The monarch’s wings opened as a picture book, fluttering by. It glided, uncertain but undeterred, through a gentle haze of gold and shadow, the garden’s hush punctuated by the faint murmur of leaves. Sunlight filtered in rare skeins, dappling the monarch’s patterned wings as it hovered, hesitated, and then pressed onward—a flicker stitched between petal and air. The world, for one gilded instant, seemed spun from elegant silk.
Painted in oranges, kissed with black lace,
the monarch glides through the air and
pirouettes in a ballet of grace.
Oh, to witness her beauty, a fleeting affair
a living poem, a jeweled muse~
a moment suspended in delicate air.
(Poem written for USPS Stamp Poetry Contest, Robert James Liguori, sponsor)
Finish my poem contest,
Sponsor Mystic Rose Rose .
Posted 12/4/2025
~~~
As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true
on true
~~~~~~~
From flower to flower she wends her way, searching, seeking out the very best
The cottage garden flowers they all delight but is on the milkweed she comes to rest.
It’s here she’ll lay her clutch of eggs upon this common plant. and when the babes arrive
They will feed their fill on milkweed leaves, they need them to survive
Then nature, in her mothering way, in silk will wrap them up real tight
And they will slumber on the milkweed leaves ‘til comes the time for their maiden flight
Then through the miracle of metamorphosis when the work of the chrysalis is done
A host of Monarch butterflies, from out the lowly milkweed patch, will rise to greet the sun.
He is not a monarch
Possibly an inquisitive moth
His black lines are distinct, drawn on by a heavy marker
reddish orange body contrasts with miniscule white dots
He stays around a bit, curiously watching our discomfort
the Metamorphoses blamed it
for the death of lovers
who met under its branches for suicide
the Old Testament believes
blood from its fruit
triggered war elephants
to do battle against Jews
wings peppered with color
fold together when at rest
ancient artists who became inspired
made them immortal in stone
insecta we share with flowers
now praying to be left alone
Gaius Julius Caesar
was not a real people pleaser
he tried to set himself up as a monarch
but never made it past the Ides of March
monarch butterfly
drinks Maximillian's nectar....
fall's angular sun
Beloved monarch or milkweed butterfly, Your migration may mystify, Do you migrate from Australia or America?, How do you ascertained the area?, Your journey holds spiritual significance, It serves as a symbol of existence.
she appears only when there is a double rainbow
so her presence is discovered more often in Australia
tonight she appeared in full colorful glory
she spoke not one word which we understood
as she is not a mere faerie, she is a monarch faerie
a butterfly, who has crystallized from another dimension
she flits and flutters, showing delightful delicacy
We watch her from afar, amazed and delighted
Sunlight in a blue sky
Dapples in and out of cottony grey clouds
Warming then soothing in turn
Two retiring humans under a tree
Amid a hundred shades of green
As a large yellow monarch
The king of insects
Glides and flutters by
With a sense of purpose and delicate grace
In perfect juxtapose.
(7/30/24)
Monarch butterfly
Fluttering with grace and ease
Nature's beauty shines
Wings of orange and black
Guiding them on their journey
Through sky and through fields
Majestic and free
Symbol of transformation
Monarch butterfly
...or It's good to be the king!
What was't made King Cole
Such a merry old soul
As he sucked on his pipe,
And he supped from his bowl,
And he fiddled around
With three young court musicians?
And what was the role
Of his missus, Queen Cole?
Was she under a table
With a lad from the stable
Who was told he'd be able
To upgrade his position?
These royal highnesses
Were not known for their shynesses,
But more for their quaint peculiarities.
The queen drank from a chalice
That was shaped like a phallus,
While he labored away
Doing king things all day
In a black lace brassière
And a pink negligée.
But their subjects adored
Such eccentric vulgarities.
Now, getting back to the king,
That sweet silly old thing,
Here's how his story played out.
He had good years aplenty,
Then at three score and twenty,
He finally retired
And expired of the gout.
I had never seen such a regal crown
It was sparkling full of jewels
Looked like it was freshly polished
It belonged to the Grand Duchess grandpa said
Auguste Victoria, German’s finest queenly monarch
I could tell that he had been smitten
How did we get it, Grandpa?
My great-great-grandfather would never tell he said.
We smiled at each other, knowing our family well.
Most of us are popular extraverts, adored by many.
Just be yourself, he said. Great things will happen.
And of course, he was right, and they did.
Hula dancers swaying,
Bring your family, and your friends, come one, come all,
drums beating.
Paradise hours,
The Merrie Monarch Festival,
flowers.
Amour,
that's magical,
lure.
Hula dancers swaying,
The Merrie Monarch Festival,
lure.
Street light blinks in timing,
winking at the seeker kind.
I am an outlander from another place another time.
Everyday signs, give arcane message,
a decrypted and privileged-
visage-bestowing-vestige.
The wind flirts in it's honor with his hair,
his cheeks rubbed like a genie's lamp
to summon magic there.
Life's golden one lit up by invisible stage light.
Magical beings to and from take their flight.
The crowning it will happen,
"I feel it in the air tonight."
I am the chosen one, sent to yet a new realm to en-kingdom.
Archons looking on to see his progress,
Watchers to record and by-stand and slip again between dimensional recess.
Mothership hovers to rendezvous with his highness.
A mighty monarch had a dream,
the kind that makes men stir and scream.
In mid-earth grew a large, strong tree,
It was so tall that all could see.
A holy one gave the decree,
to cut down and destroy the tree,
but leave the large stump in the ground,
with bronze and iron fetters bound.
The mighty monarch was the tree,
to whom his subjects bowed the knee.
His Majesty was very great,
But his arrogance sealed his fate.
God had decreed he’d lose his throne,
and live in nature all alone.
His hair like one unkempt will grow,
and nails protrude like those of a crow.
A chastened monarch he would be,
until his folly, he would see.
Like a man who has lost his mind,
he will live like the beastly kind.
The purpose of the harsh decree
was that all on earth may agree,
that God rules the affairs of men,
and decides where men rule, and when.
At the end of his harsh ordeal
the chastened king proclaimed with zeal,
the Most High God exists for real,
Let all on earth before him kneel.
Listen you haughty men and proud,
Who mock this God with voices loud.
One day you too will face His wrath,
because you chose the foolish path.
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