I had always been like that–
For dead butterflies,
With the freshest flowers.
You had been like that too,
Loving me for little things,
Until you grew up
And I didn’t.
Shaily Agrawal is a small-town Indian and a working mother. Her skewed perspective is apparent through her stories on her blog: https://fishinthetrees.home.blog/ You can read her first short story collection, The Forest Bed on Amazon Kindle.
my mirror shines back
a beautiful butterfly
I escape my silk cocoon
spread my freckled wings
and soar into new heights
Tova Beck-Friedman is a visual artist, filmmaker, writer and poet.
In recent work she fuses poetry and moving images to create cine-poems.
Her work has been shown internationally in film festivals, museums, galleries and on television.
a rainy balloon drifted into sight
I looked out from this cloudy train
all my wings taken flight
left over sorrow and pain
transient, a mere passer-by
my reflection, a rusty butterfly.
Angela (she/her) was born and lives in rural North Wales, UK, she studied English and American Literature at Aberystwyth University and has returned to poetry after many years. She considers poetry an art of pure freedom. Angela was recently published in ‘Ink Drinkers’ Magazine and is currently compiling her work for her first poetry collection
I’m the sidekick
Riding the tailcoats
Of those braver than I
To bare my teeth
Instead, I smile
Push me around?
I promise I won’t mind
I have no guile
I grit my teeth
My knuckles are white
What lies beneath
Composure like armour
Shh. Can you hear it?
My soul has awakened
She’s trying to get out
I’m on my knees
Slowly I push
Gently I prod
The cocoon opens wide
And I am bioluminescent
I am ready
My stars in the sand
Laid bare for all to see
Sarah Whiley is a primary school teacher, with a passion for writing. She enjoys crafting whimsical short stories and poems, in a variety of forms. More work from Sarah can be found at her blog, By Sarah.
While walking through the prairie Joseph noticed the colorful butterflies moving from blossom to blossom. He remembered the satisfaction of doing purposeful work before his injuries.
Back on the street a carload of unemployed youth who called themselves the Retaliators taunted him as they drove by shouting, “Useless eater!”
Joseph’s accident may have been a curse, but how great were his blessings! That evening before lying in bed he kissed his wife and she smiled. Falling asleep he saw a gray butterfly sitting on a post waiting for him becoming as it few off colorful and bright.
Frank Hubeny spends his time between Miami Beach and Northbrook, Illinois. He regularly posts poetry, short fiction and photography to https://frankhubeny.blog.
Now we can see a single leaf
a sign of new life hides beneath
a yellow, single speck has lain
like St Swithin’s threat of rain
till the small but ravenous beast
on poor defenceless leaf unleashed
and five voracious weeks will pass
before as if to stone the body cast
while in that tomb vast changes make
yet not death but beauty make.
Bob Fairfield is a lover of rhyme traditional poetry form, also short form and Limerick. His work may be viewed at http://bobfairfield.org.
Flittering, fluttering, butterfly wings
One of life’s wonders such beautiful things
Alighting on flowers and floating on high
Painting new portraits way up in the sky
Some look like tigers and some look like eyes
There’s so much to see as the butterfly flies
You may be surprised at the height they can soar
Six thousand metres, perhaps a bit more
They can’t be surpassed as a creature of flight
When they bring so much pleasure, such joy, and delight!
Peter Matthews, a country boy at heart, lives with his wife in the suburbs of Nottingham, England. His greatest achievement is that he has aged fairly gracefully but has avoided growing up. Peter has written poetry from the age of sixteen and blogs regularly at www.pollymermaid.wordpress.com.
Have you lost your way
Discouraged by these tiring days?
Have faith, the clouds will soon depart
Colorful wings will show your heart
No grey camouflage then needed
The sun will out, your brilliance heeded.
Cheryl Wood is a widowed grandmother who fills empty times scribbling on many subjects, usually with a bit of humor.
The fragile wings tremulously resting on the very edge of the ancient bark had seen better days. The Polka Dots in Sepia were showing telling signs of wear and tear. The journey from larva to pupa to butterfly had been an exhilarating one indeed. There was neither room for remorse nor reason for regret. What initially were flights of absolute fancy had eventually transformed into adventures of purpose. It was a life well lived. Fragrance. Fulfillment and Fun. The bosom of Mother Nature was benevolence personified. Now it was time for redemption. To return to the very origin. To salvation.