in navy blue dusk
mulberry brushes green grass ~
a scene that's starlit
Mulberry kisses,
spring-warm willow tree shadows...
a quivering bloom
At Arromanches Les Baines, the British used a massive artificial harbour, known as Mulberry Harbour( specifically Mulberry B) to facilitate the landing of troops and supplies after D Day. It was ingenious.
Mulberry B
They lie half buried in the sand
Parked like huge metal flat beds
Under heavy weather barrages
Once they ebbed and flowed with the tide
That now washes over them
a stark reminder of sufferings
bravery and sacrifices
Invaded by moss,
they rust together
Undefeated in their history
yet their freedom doomed
There are no gravestones
at Arromanches Les Baines
Just revered metal allies
03/04/2025
summer sings
forever in my heart
perfume and love in the air
evergreen memories of
mulberry trees and butterflies
unwritten poetry lines
floating on dreams
whisked ever so gently
by a subtle breeze of you
coming back to me
AP: 3rd place 2025, 3rd place 2025
Submitted on March 22, 2025 for contest MULBERRY TREES AND BUTTERFLIES sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN - RANKED 10TH
Oh Mourning Cloak butterfly, to where and to whom do you fly
Oh Admiral Butterfly, so many mirrors to count before you die
Oh Jezebel Nymph I love the way you sit on a summer's love flower
by a pipturus mulberry tree, where love blooms without cower
Oh silkworms of beauty eating mulberry leaves, thick as thieves
spinning cocoons warm as rain by a mountain of mulberry leaves!
Oh Monarchs, you with your autumnal colored wings of flaming geest
I love the way you flit around the mulberry tree like angels at a feast
Oh Mulberry tree how majestic thou art, standing by the rivers edge
it is here that I stand in beauty like the sun, taking my last pledge.
Larvae of certain Butterflies
exhibiting a real surprise :
eating only mulberry leaves ,
though it is too hard to believe !
Larvae silkworms , that special !
Mulberry trees truly crucial
in their typical life cycle,
necessarily means own style.
Larval stage is caterpillar
chewing leaves, so peculiar !
Metamorphosis on next step
butterfly taking its nice shape !
All butterflies follow this norm.
to attain its full mature form,
chewing leaves as caterpillar
but butterfly sipping nectar.
This is the natural story
but for silk worm category
Mulberry leaves : only selection
They were left no other option.
channeling
my thoughts
towards
earth star chakra
I stand
rooted
feeling safe
it is fall
my thoughts
linger around
sadness
like Monarch
butterflies
clustering on
mulberry trees
preparing
for migration
a thought
here and there
pass
I mind my
breath
trance-like
peace envelopes
metamorphosis
thoughts
return, I
see again, my
mind sashays
down glittered
cluttered runway
as always
cycle begins
They love the leaves—the butterflies,
mulberry for their eggs,
a home and caterpillars' feast,
where adults rest their legs.
Their beauty drawn—the butterflies,
mulberry for their dance,
where beauty mirrors beauty well,
even with fleeting glance.
With weather harsh—the butterflies,
mulberry their shelter,
through chilling winds or blazing heat,
no flight helter-skelter.
When hunger strikes—the butterflies,
mulberry their nectar,
for food, for strength, for energy,
their nose, their detector.
For friendship’s call—the butterflies,
mulberry, their best friend,
in loyalty and harmony,
a bond that will not bend.
One day in May, I sat nearby a stream
where a few mulberry trees were flourishing.
I rested my head against the trunk of one
where clusters of white comfrey grew nearby.
Beautiful yarrow were also scattered there,
with pinkish-purple bells; some were yellow.
I must have fallen into a dream
because I saw the stream was rippling
with fizzy sounds of bubbles.
The stream was pink champagne!
The flowers around me performed a ballet,
swaying delicately in the breeze
as the bells of the yarrow rang a dulcet tune.
I woke up all a sudden,
noticing that many leaves of my mulberry tree
were not leaves at all.
They were actually butterflies coral streaked.
I’d startled them on waking,
and a cloud of them fluttered all together
away from my tree.
Other bright butterflies joined the throng,
partaking of the nectar of the once-dancing flowers.
Although the stream no longer bubbled champagne,
the reality of mulberry trees and butterflies
was more breath-taking
than what I ever
could have dreamed.
(Mulberry trees talk among themselves
About the butterflies that ignore them)
Butterflies love oaks, elms, and willows; we know.
They play hide and seek with their leaves tinged with snow.
Do they flee from us because we are crook-barked?
Around us, lethargic crows and eagles fly.
They think we cherish their melancholic cry.
Aren't, yet, in their blunt fondness too, our hearts sparked?
Our stems, leaves, blossoms, and fruits are versatile.
Do our toils to feed frail silkworms go futile?
Why should we be tied down by uncertain lures?
Aren't dragonflies and hoverflies precious too?
Shouldn't, to each creature, our concern be true?
Isn't existence beyond all ecliptic blurs?
roadside mulberry
nectar attracts butterflies
- there's the goat again
I have not seen a mulberry tree,
only the words that spoke to me.
Now I romance its boughs and shade,
where butterflies in beauty wade.
Beneath the hush of ancient skies,
the mulberry tree in silence sighs,
its roots like veins through earthen skin,
where time and memory begin.
A thousand hands have plucked its fruit,
a crimson stain, a whispered truth—
love once lost, love now found,
a tale in berries, dark and round.
Once, Pyramus and Thisbe fled,
where white mulberries blushed to red,
their love, a river, deep and wide,
a vow that even death defied.
And in its boughs, a silken thread,
where caterpillars weave the dead,
cocoons like prayers in golden light,
waiting to dance with borrowed flight.
From hushed decay, the wings emerge,
a breath reborn, a fleeting surge,
butterflies like spirits glide,
ghosts of silk and time untied.
The mulberry trees are,
awaking with new life.
I am feeling my new green leaves,
coming from my many branches.
Spring is here,
showing off her beauty.
What do I see,
a butterfly house?
It is tucked beneath my many branches,
hidden in my new green leaves.
Colorful butterflies now appear,
dressed in their finest colorful wings.
As I watch I see,
beautiful butterflies dance from flower to flower.
Oh how I wish,
wish I could dance with them.
My branches waves in the cool breeze,
guess this is the only dancing I can do.
I watch them dance,
by the day's bright sun.
Then by the night's dark sky,
as the diamond stars and full moon appear.
I am blessed to be called home,
for I am one of the many mulberry tress.
Oh, how I long to see
The part of me
Among the mulberry trees
And the butterflies.
Where the good is great,
And the sad is fate,
Where the skies are blue,
And the grass holds dew.
Where you look at your love,
Your hand in theirs,
And gaze up above,
Without a care.
Mulberry Trees and Butterflies
Daffodils and Cardinals
Beauty over ashes
Love over hate
choosing Beauty and Love
gives life sweetness that
helps to balance the times
of hurt and loss that are
inevitable in the world.
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