I mixed some sugar water,
Hoping there would be a visit.
One hummingbird obliged, but oh,
That viewing was exquisite.
He darted to the feeder,
Little winglets all a’blur
And he sipped to his contentment
(Or it maybe should be her).
I grabbed my iPhone camera,
Thinking I could catch that sight,
But just one hummingbird came by
And still, that is all right.
I’m a falcon seamlessly driven
I can flex and torque
My tapered wings flap like a hawk
Flight feathers long and slender like a ballerina
I’m vicious like bird of prey hunting with eyes
But I’m not like others in my tribe
I would rather burn my feathers like a fireball in the sun
Or sail through the blue unknown
But never kill another anyone like my merlin friends
I want to break away like tenacious winds
Fastest as it can be
My faith flutters my winglets strong
May I be outcast or deprived
But let my spirits soar high
Let me reach the heaven of prayers
My partial me reprimands I will
Down below my falcon lineage will see me through
Later as a fossil in time
But right now I just want to fly like ashes in the golden yellow sky.
In gentle breeze, a prism swings,
until each side has felt the sway
It hangs there by a thread of string
while waiting for the sun to play.
Sun passes by, so brief a glance
refracting light from morning skies
And soon my eyes must do a dance,
entranced by all the butterflies !
Thrown against the wall as dice
Into a million moths that clone
from splintered sunlight, color- spliced,
as clear as ice, precisely honed.
And as it twirls, more colors soar
With constellations telescoped
They rise up deep from prism's core
as if to make kaleidoscopes.
Walls gather up the rainbow's hue
Stain-glassed winglets for my view
Although I try to catch a few
They fly away, ...while sun does too.
____________________________________________________
For Contest Sponsored By Julia Ward
"A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies"
on
wenesdays
in
wakerlife
the
wallydrags
wading
in
waterish
wanton
water
with
websters
&
waitress
off
work
when
weaned
in
ways
that
weirdward
women
will
wheeple
they
wabble
towards
wagons
waiting
on
waist
anchors
which
would
allow
wandering
whereon
white
withering
wild
whippoorwills
will
williwaw
when
worried
about
winglets
wirbling
whislt
wiseacres
watch
them
wanting
only
woodshedding
&
not
wailing
whining
witches
or
womanthropes
who
wallow
in
wrackful
wyrd.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.