Early summer scene
The sunrays showered the treetops
pooling little puddles of light
on the predominance of shade
that claimed the beaten path below;
seemingly ebbing and flowing
caused by the rustle of the trees.
Tiny cabbage white butterflies
in their spiral flights dip and rise
ostentatiously frolicking
amidst the warm illuminates
occasionally alighting
the myriad garlic mustards
that dominate the ground layer
laying their next generation.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Butterflies For Breakfast? (Life Poem)
Butterflies before you sit the final exam,
Butterflies before you go for a job interview,
Butterflies before you ask her out on a date,
Butterflies before you kiss her for the first time,
Butterflies before you propose two will be one,
Butterflies before you meet her family,
Butterflies before you see her all in white,
Butterflies before you make that big speech,
Butterflies before you see that your baby is OK,
Butterflies before you get news from the doctor,
Butterflies before you lose your job again,
Butterflies before you face any little crisis,
But -
No butterflies for breakfast.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Summer Light...
Summer Light -Thru the Trees
Summer Light - Spotted Me
Summer Light - Palest Gold
Summer Light - Bright and Bold
I Saw Summer Light Descend
Summer Light, Made Shadows Bend
Summer Light, On An Emerald Pond
I Reached Out… It Touched My Palm
Summer Light, It Fell Like Powder
Or a Floating Incandescent Feather
Came Down, Like A Sheer, White Swan
Summer Light – Lifted Wing-Like Arms
So Sunrays Slanted – Shone-Misty
Summer Light-Beams, Embraced Me
Warm, Wonderful Summer Light
Touch Me Tender, Solar- Might
Summer Light, When I Was Lost
Summer Light, Found Me Before Frost
Summer Light - None Else Looked For Me…
Summer Light Said, “I Always See…”
I Love Summer Light
poem by MoonBee Canady
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Song of the Little White Girl
Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter?
Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter?
Because it is just a white baby you see,
And it's the black ones you like, cabbage tree?
Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you're a strange fellow
With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow.
Wouldn't you like to have curls, dear, like me?
What! No one to make them? O poor cabbage tree!
Never mind, cabbage tree, when I am taller,
And if you grow, please, a little bit smaller,
I shall be able by that time, bay be,
To make you the loveliest curls, cabbage tree.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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Christmas butterfly
Perhaps it had arrived undercover
between the rich dark green leaves
of the organic cabbage which from
the huge holes in its tough outer leaves
had brought it up so lively – perhaps
reared in some protected warmth, mimicking
the months when ‘ small cabbage whites’
are supposed to live – July to September.
Or had it flown in or been shipped in
from some warmer clime?
Christmas Day – was that the kitchen ceiling light
about to go? No, it was a butterfly,
frantically circling round and round
the low-energy bulb, not hot enough
to make an Icarus of its daring; always
clockwise round the bulb, I thought;
palest green to grey to white; frenzied; delicate..
At night, the light switched off, it rested somewhere;
then at evening, resumed its mad dance,
ceaseless lover, love unconsummated…
paid no attention to its cabbage home
there in the vegetable rack; only the light, the light…
Butterflies do not hear; it did not heed
my cries increasing in despair –
nothing like a butterfly net to hand;
I tried to bring it lower with a gentle spray
so that I could catch it; too wild its Maenad dance,
too high, too frenzied..
Two, three days passed; so much strength,
determination, endurance, in such a tiny thing;
no longer garden’s scourge; now a holy thing,
in which I saw myself; even wished to love;
we became of equal size, in the eyes of God…
as were we not always, from Creation’s birth?
The fourth morning, I caught it in a cut-glass tumbler
against the window pane – the open window
had not tempted it – myself now talking to its unhearing,
as I did my father on his way to death…
it settled in the glass, still moist inside
with orange juice; did you know,
butterflies taste with their feet…
they so quick to land and then take off…
such discrimination in those tiny feet,
that tiny brain, those tiny,
heroic muscles, devoted to its life and love…
It flew across the cold and winter garden
at such speed, I chose to see it joy or gratitude..
and then, was quiet for a time.
*
Tiny thing,
holy thing,
as near to God
as angel's wing.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Peace Beyond Time
wolves run
in packs drinking moonlight,
flesh and blood,
hunger and desire!
i am the wolf,
i am the moonlight,
flesh and blood,
hunger and desire.
the hawk glides,
on the wind with eyes,
peeling layer upon layer
for pulsing treasure...
i am the hawk,
i am the wind,
peeling layer upon layer,
for pulsing treasure.
the river winds
through rocks and trees,
making it's own path,
on the way home.
i am the river,
rocks and trees,
making my own path
on the way home....
darkness falls,
wraps around the light,
brings healing stillness,
and peace beyond time.
i am the darkness,
wrapping around light,
i bring healing stillness,
and peace beyond time!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Childhood Memories Four: Dances With Gravity
down the rabbit hole
of childhood memories
we tumble into lost world
watching Father chase white butterflies
which eat our growing cabbage leaves
with a tennis racket with foot work
leaps bounds serves volleys never seen
upon famed centre court at Wimbledon
butterflies fly float move in fluttering
unpredictable motion dances with gravity
overcome baiting my father into youthful
dances on past childhood hot summer days
this game I too played mastered but why
so rarely in retrospect such fun so seldom
played among a host of unpattented games
to up the stakes for mass extinction Derris
dust sprinkled on cabbage leaves discolours
leaves white butterflies land leave unabated
but knocks out the sucking and chewing
insects for a six at caterpillar dinner time
when rain has not washed powder sprinkled
off cabbage leaves alas it is a no-win game
set upon set waiting for new service white
butterflies as they fly in from neighbouring
gardens the game goes on until we tire or
new balls spread danger word signaling with
broken garden bodies in game we can't win!
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Summer Days
Summer days are warm, and wonderfully long.
Deep down, within my heart, I feel a joyful song.
Gone are winter days, with their dowdy browns;
The trees and flowers now wear coloured crowns.
The natural world displays its bounteous beauty.
The soft, summer breeze is fragrant and fruity.
Bees, butterflies, and other bugs, now take flight.
Days of summer, feel so very cheerful and bright.
The days of winter can be so deeply depressing,
But now, their true selves, plants are expressing.
Suddenly, the world feels like a much better place,
And the happy smiles are evident on many a face.
The world, all about us, is given a golden glow,
Which illuminates Mother Nature's vibrant show.
Following the winter months: all dull and dreary;
We're treated to a display that's much more cheery.
Winter woodlands appear so very bland and bare,
But, come the summer, they look fabulous and fair.
Shafts of sunlight shine down through the tall trees;
The leaf laden branches rustle in the summer breeze.
Some secretly wish that summer could last forever;
That, all year round, we could enjoy warm weather.
Once summer is here, you hate for it to have to end;
You warm to it, as you would, to your dearest friend.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Rise, Rise to the Occasion
Rise, rise to the occasion
Rise, rise to the invitations of life
Oh rise, rise to the music of joy
Uh rise, rise to the victory over strife!
This is the time for you to march forward
Oh son of the Mighty! Valor is the key
This is the urgency to show courage abundant
Oh daughter of Energy! Courage is the key
Rise, rise to the tide and rise to the low
Defeat lethargy and defeat fear
Mind the goal and attain it
The guts are here and the glory is here
Face the challenge, embrace it
Cross the puddles and the furrows
Calm the heart and fight the battle
Celebration’s for you – not the sorrows
Rise, rise then, rise O bright!
Rise, rise then to the right
Tire not, rise till the end of the path
Rise, rise then to all the might!
poem by Bhaswat Chakraborty
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nature-Day Ending -Izeli
Jacaranda in full bloom,
points it's branches to the setting sun.
Gentle breeze rains blossoms from on high
to carpet the earth with their purple dye.
Heavy flapping of the cawing gulls
swallows in pairs dance in a race
Bright green light green shadows lengthening
White disk with a shimmering face.
Dark green treetops turning yellow green
Olive lit hillside now to be seen
Tiny butterflies fluttering bye
Dust like dots of the tiny fly
Here I sit and drink in the life
of nature and creatures
as the day is ending
I marvel and wonder at the life I see,
in a perfect rhythm of eternal blending.
poem by Mary Mc Creath
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Slug City
There once was a family of slugs
That lived in a cabbage patch town
They went out every nite to eat
Found a cabbage and began to munch down
All through the night they could reduce
A cabbage to a stalk in the ground
All night they would munch and munch
But you would never here them, not nary a sound
But Mrs H was becoming fed up
Her patch the proudest around
With malace, blood red, she schemed
She vowed to eliminate those clowns
She purchased the best poison they had
She tried every trick she read
But the slugs just kept on coming
Every nite long after it was bed
Then a local wino he said
Out of the garden he could take
These inconsiderate gluttonous
Stylommatophora pulmonates
So he began by opening a beer
Placing some into a sphere
Putting them by each cabbage head
he said, 'This will make these slugs disappear.'
But by morning the cabbage was gone
Worse yet so was the beer
And if you looked even more closely
Tiny signs saying, 'Next time make it import you here.'
poem by Midnights Voice
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Liquid more pure
Liquid more pure
than that flowing on earth
and from the wells in the ground,
from tankards in white clouds
drifting on the blue sky
fall sparkling like jewels
through the air.
The smell of rain
rise from the ground
and the earth is fresh and new
while drops shower it
and a secret ingredient called nitrogen
brings life and gives growth
to grass, flowers, plants and trees.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Invitation Of The Earth To Hear Its Songs....
the earth
if you listen enough
ears on those walls
buried
to each fiber of wood
has composed a lot of songs
for the goodness
of our
souls: the songs of the sea waves
against the sands, such a shushing sound
the thin air that kisses those daffodils
the soft feet of rain tiptoeing on the grass
the whispers of the flowing waters
from your fingers to the
skins on your belly
the lips that kiss
the bodies that meet in desire
rubbing against each
other on
lonelier nights
the flights of bird wings
above the treetops
the fluttering butterflies landing on the petals of a rose
sad is the man who does not hear all these
and love life
sadder is the man who hears all these
but shuts his heart
like slamming doors
locked
without keys
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spring Goeth all in White
Spring goeth all in white,
Crowned with milk-white may:
In fleecy flocks of light
O'er heaven the white clouds stray:
White butterflies in the air;
White daisies prank the ground:
The cherry and hoary pear
Scatter their snow around.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges
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Moon’s Shadow
The path was becoming pathless
after seeking the deluge.
Gunslingers were climbing on trees
to shoot the white doves.
There were ice needles in my eyes
to check the inheritance of height.
Desires move with a feline grace, lynx-eyed.
You taste me like a lamb.
I am unfolding,
layer by layer;
year by year. From end to beginning.
The benign tumors are going to attack
my afterlife.Falling, falling
my bliss in midnight of words,
across the solace of killer gaze,
on a stretch of ancient footprints.
poem by Satish Verma
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On the open plain (Catena Rondo)
Some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
are fresh with the glistening morning dew;
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun
they rejoice over a day that is new
as bees and butterflies flutter along
birds do sing the happiest kind of song
they rejoice over a day that is new,
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
while they in massive herds do slowly pass
as bees and butterflies flutter along
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds
grow to strength in a world full of big weeds,
wild deer graze at the soft tender green grass,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds,
blooms appear with heads searching for the sun;
on this earth so it's been since time begun,
some flowers rise up bright from tiny seeds.
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Euphoric Moment
The sun kisses my cheek; I squint at its brightness...
My feet are touching hot earth, yet it is my soul that's a blaze!
I take in what the sun has for me...So I shine as the sunrays dance in my stead.
I pause for a moment to give praise for the purposeful son; the brilliance of his light, it magnifies not over just a mere one, but to all who would seek him...the son illuminates.
The son kisses my cheek; I squint at his brightness...
My feet are touching hot earth and I am a blaze!
I take in what the son has for me....So I shine as never before!
I cannot be still, no one to dance in my stead.
The son illuminates and I am now fed.
poem by Yvette Settle
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Which?
A LAND AMIDST SEAS!
A PEOPLE AMIDST ANIMALS!
A GENERATION AMIDST FEDERATIONS!
A MAN AMIDST WOMEN!
A CHIEF AMIDST SERVANTS!
WHICH BEST DESCRIBES I?
I AM OVERLORD IHCAKEYNO!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Forever in My Dreams
Close to the morning hours before I awaken,
I find myself looking outside of the window of my dreams-
Sometimes amidst the bleak darkness, the full moon is rising above the treetops,
Stars are seemingly cascading behind mountains of far away places-
I hear footsteps faintly passing by, perhaps down the hallway of my fantasies-
Slowly my eyes would open and I find myself
Looking outside of the same window and
All I can see are shadows of trees that would be
Touching the sky within a figment of my imagination-
Close to the morning hours, close to the time that the world awakens,
I find myself lost in thought, disappearing into some other realm.
The full moon battles with the rising sun, stars shooting and seemingly cascading,
Saturn, Mars and Venus are dancing in rhythm to
The doleful and mystical song of the locusts screaming-
Inside the fortress of my thoughts,
I have made my home inside this kingdom in the sky-
In this place where the light of the moon is overpowered
By the rays of the early morning sun-
The colors of the sky are reborn- cyanotic blue and
Pearl-white clouds, seemingly tinted with gold,
Amidst the phantasmal waltz of my imagination,
I can hear voices familiar only to myself,
Shouting words that terrify and evoke moments of madness-
It has been said that reason can be affected by the light of the full moon
Before daybreak and I would ride bareback upon the tail of a shooting star
If I only could, as it would take me on a journey across the universe,
Perhaps to a safer place within this magical kingdom in the sky-
Close to the morning hours before I awaken,
I have lost myself inside a magnificent place of my own creation-
A place from which I would never leave if I could only wish upon a star-
This would be my utmost desire- as this lurid but dismal world
Into which I was born has not been kind to me-
As my memory becomes a vehicle traveling backward in time-
I can recall terrifying sights only I could see and threatening voices which
Only I could hear- within that moment that darkness transforms to dawn,
I find my spirit having been rudely snatched away from this place of my fondest reverie-
So I close my eyes and then I can see the stars once more, the moon and Saturn dancing-
And I begin to lose myself once again traveling across this pathway of my dreams-
Tears are falling from my eyes as they open because this vision can never become reality-
Tears would glisten with dewdrops upon the leaves upon the trees reflecting the
Early morning sunlight as I close my eyes once again and wish upon that star
As I would for always and forever in every passing thought…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Sonnet – Amidst
Amidst pitch -black darkness, God shows a light;
Amidst a Forest thick, He shows a way;
Amidst black clouds, He brings a moonlit night;
Amidst sorrows, God gives a happy day.
Amidst the desert, Oasis God shows;
Amidst the stormy Sea, He brings calm;
Amidst much strife, He opens newer doors;
Amidst much hopelessness, a helping palm.
Amidst tempest, God shows a bright light-house;
Amidst the glaciers, much sought-after peak;
Amidst our solitude, He gives a spouse;
Amidst the ravines deep, the lost lamb meek.
Amidst the chaos, God ushers new hope,
Amidst the gloom, He gives the church a Pope.
poem by John Celes
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Flutter byes for M ladyChitra
The autumn leaves fall from the trees.
Twirling and dancing in the breeze.
Like ghosts of summer butterflies
although they don’t deceive my eyes.
My poets mind says otherwise.
Transmogrifies them easily,
assisted by their autumn guise.
Into bright coloured butterflies.
Like butterflies they dance and play
but they will fall eventually.
Down to the ground and rot away
And form a mulch to feed each tree.
On which trees live as they should do.
Though for a little while they flew.
16-Oct-08
http; // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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