Monarchs, monarchs
in the milkweed,
flitting around
along with bees.
Drinking nectar,
drifting along,
until cold months,
then they’ll be gone.
Brilliant orange,
streaked through with black,
regal flyers,
their name is apt.
Dropping their eggs,
small, larval seed,
on plants in which
they’re young can feed.
See so many
this time of year,
zipping around
rabbits and deer.
Monarchs, monarchs,
thing all their own,
come back next month,
they’ll all have flown.
Each year I plant an herbal garden
very near a stand of mulberry trees
and every Spring when they're in bloom
they attract butterflies and honey bees.
This morning, as I tended the sweet basil,
a young Monarch landed close to my hand.
Then, a cloud of them swirled around me,
and flew back to the mulberry trees to land.
For that moment I dared not move an inch,
mesmerized by the wooshing of their wings.
It was so memorable, that I'll never forget.
Their humming was like a song Nature sings.
I watched them flutter. Thirty, maybe more
before clinging on to leaves of vibrant green.
Their bold colors of black, orange and gold
looked just like petals as I watched them glean.
Monarch Butterflies start off as a
cocoon, then they come out into
beautiful butterflies. The
Lovely monarchs started
migrating, then one
nice bright day, they
disappeared
Now they're
gone.
On
cold
Sunny day,
the beautiful
Monarch Butterflies
Came back from migrating,
oh, what a beautiful sight
To see clusters of monarch
butterflies hanging like silk from trees.
It isn’t the big celebrations,
Enormous dinners or huge gifts.
Parties never rouse foundations,
Jamborees or festivals.
It isn’t the life-sized creations,
Who impress kings, rulers or monarchs.
It’s the little things, a gentle expression,
When hearts meet in the deserts,
When dreamers discover their profession,
When simple reaches into the heart,
Pulls out a feeling, an impression,
The beautiful that inspires the light.
It isn’t in the impressive,
When a life gets made –
It’s in the thoughts, so obsessive…
Which bring feelings we want to save!
Rascals and Ragamuffins
Scoundrels and Scallywags
Each bows in subservience
To Monarchs and Moneybags
From the underside of a milkweed leaf you appeared to me, oh butterfly
you spanned and metamorph before my eyes
from a tiny caterpillar to a creature full of flame.
They call you the common tiger or the wanderer, but to me
you are "The Monarch," most regal butterfly of both heaven and earth.
To Southern Mexico you will soon migrate, just when the frost begins to settle, on the northern rooftops.
Like the tiny feathered birds that quiver as the winds of change appear,
one cool September day you will whisk yourself away.
Unlike the Asters & the morning glories, late bloomers of the season,
your short life span requires you to take flight, without treason.
Come to my flower garden one more time dear Monarch,
and show me the beauty that is truly thine. (pause)
From the underside of a milkweed leaf, you appear to me, butterfly
born to seize the sky you soar and aim for warmer weather ,
who could ever ask you, why ?
Written by: Vienna Bombardieri aka Mystic Rose
Monarchs are hatching and seeking flowers,
Their gossamer orange wings fluttering wildly
Then perching atop the pollinating towers.
Monarchs are hatching and seeking flowers
When it rains they look for sheltered bowers
Beauty in perpetual motion, to put it mildly,
Monarchs are hatching and seeking flowers
Their gossamer orange wings fluttering wildly.
Written October 14, 2021
monarchs
enjoying a morning meal
milkweed leaves
If
number
is the ruler
of form
Then
beauty
the true empress
of love
(To Pythagoras: March, 2021)
I want my sword to water wilting plants,
Yet not to slay any false foes in wars
Like an ant killer gobbling helpless ants,
Or any monstrous beast that walks on fours.
I see sun like a wearied man plod home,
And moon stare vacantly across the field;
Wind hums with dreary ghosts that wildly roam,
And flies oft' buzz around my blood-stained shield.
In this turret of the castle ...... I guard
A mighty monarch and his lulling kins,
For whose peace, people's peace I disregard;
For whose pleasure, I scar my soul with sins.
May kindness kindle his relentless heart
And doves freely fly like pieces of art.
10 syllables in each line (Ref. manysyllables.com)
Sept. 22, 2020
Butterfly pomp in wide strokes of sunlight
weighty, fierce
Elevated movement
Frilly flourishes of spirited
pleasure
geography that drifts away
Gravity dismantled
in the seamless slide of summer
Milky flight
balanced by the delicate dust of air
Lush watching
to infer a quiet form of freedom
to ease the labyrinth of age
Nature's slick seduction,
butterflies from a
sparse world
Heart over mind,
unbounded monarchs
sacred
A canvas of weightless flight
in orange-black strokes,
unruly.
Poem revised: February 16, 2021
Contest: All Yours (Feb. 17)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Monarchs be gone. I have blue butterflies now.
They listen to my heart and deliver before I ask.
They mirror my feelings and my thoughts
Improving my attitude at every turn
I am not smug, merely reflecting facts
As they appear to me in blue butterfly forms
Monarchs, you may visit again in the fall
When you match the squash and the corn.
Right now I am being heavily delighted by my blues.
I thought the landscape burst in sudden flame
with embers wild cavorting in the glare
of dawning sun, but boundless sparks became
a throng of monarchs flitting through the air.
Arbitrium Divisa 5
Gregory R Barden
12/18/19
Original Poem: Pixie Dragons
9/18/19
It had been years since the seasons changed
Then the Monarch butterflies
Shook from a blue sky in July
Like a box of colored confetti
Re-appeared a miracle atop the sticky meadows
And the day before was so hot
That on my morning walk
I found tree frogs glued to the pavement
In mid-hop
Paralyzed with eyes looking up
Clay knickknacks belonging to a shelf
In an Elk Rapids gift shop
People around here are buried in their graves
Sitting up
To stare out forever upon Torch Lake
Tombstones angled against the hills
Last ever to see
The blue of this Earth
The lake of sunsets
The mirror that shows us all
Who we turned out to be.
Two monarchs rise from flowers blue
In meadows green they frolic too
They flutter on the winds of spring
Lithely dancing in their flight
Enraptured by the season's delight
On sunbeams warm they flap their wings
As flowers bow to these two kings
And upon these they soon alight
But like the season
their time is short, they will leave
us when autumn blushes gold
but they will return
to reign once more, and dance in
meadows on the wings of spring
4/22/17
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