I Like The Image
of two white butterflies
fluttering on top of
the blooming blue daisies
beside two old graves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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And When Some Of The Butterflies Come And Flutter
and when some of the butterflies come fluttering
over my sweet scented jasmines in my garden
i look for the sunlight from the colossal sun
and the enlightenment from the great Pan
and ask what is there left for me to do
the right solution so i may not be also blue
shall i hide my nectar inside my sepal
or shall i open more the colors of my petal
or shall i choose but be one brittle metal?
a caterpillar, younger sister of the butterflies
intervenes upon a feast on one of my leaves says:
hey you, don't be a crab? open up, spread your petals,
go grab the fluttering wings, these are the lonely ones!
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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And blooming
Blooming blooming
You are blooming.
You are white tulip
You are tube rose
You are passiflora
You are mutabilis
You are marigold
And what not
What not you are.
Your world
Wonderful world
I am
With You
You are blooming
Blooming blooming
And blooming.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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From A 9-year Old Child To His Mama...
I was the one who
uprooted your
blooming red African daisies
that morning when
you walked to attend the
funeral of
Uncle Aldong
when you arrived that afternoon
from the silent city
all the African daisies
have already wilted
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Hammock, A Dream, A White Butterfly
i was relaxing on a
hammock
there was this little
white butterfly
fluttering and fluttering
no hovering ever
no stopping
it rises up over the fence
of my house
and then it is gone away....
i slept and dreamed about
a little white butterfly
fluttering and never stopping
it flew away from my mind...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A New Spring (In Answer To Ernst Van Heerden)
There is something radically new to this spring
something fresh, matchless, pure, even bright
it continually brings the realization of new life
of unfolding growth, hope and true love
if we continually love each other, will I already
see you glow in early pregnancy
when the Seven Sisters, Orion and the Southern Cross
glow romantically, with candles smouldering to their ends?
And now when you lie warm in my arms
with your body enchanting, I feel your heart beating
the moon gleams golden and magical
every moment is full of passion
It is visible that the earth is different
trees are covered in exuberant new buds
the grass is full of life and green
when butterflies are fluttering, bees are working buzzing
while thunder blazes down blue-white
with the rain pouring pattering, bringing life
the fluttering, flapping of chattering birds
over glorious trees, at flowers that are blooming, at crops
is a glad exaltation where the farmer, the gardener
and every lover of nature
see the splendour of new life
knows that God does answer prayers
brings rain, wind and sunshine at His time
and in the fishpond goldfishes stare
in love at each other
while the mirror image
catches nature full of life
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Christening Of The Poet
blue butterflies come out fluttering
as soon as he opens his mouth
and when he slowly closes it
silence is retained like a patch of green grass of that
faraway home
thus i christen him:
poet
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nervous
You wait and wait like a kid waiting to open a present.
Your stomach fills with butterflies waiting to flutter.
When will it happen?
For you are getting nervous and tired of the fluttering.
The fluttering seems to get louder and you start getting out of control.
Then all of a sudden the fluttering stops then starts again.
You realize you can't control it like you can't control the sun rising and going down each day.
So instead relax and go with the flow.
For the thing you are waiting for will come soon.
poem by Christina J. Williams
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Daisies All Over My Body
let daisies rain on
me and let all the daisies
cover my face my body
let daisies crown my head
my hair, my nose, let there
be daisies everywhere
inside, outside me
i am in love.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Double Red Daisies
Double red daisies, they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
In a big quarrelsome house like ours
They try it sometimes—but no,
I root them up because they’re my flowers,
Which nobody else may grow.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
Double red daisy, that’s my mark:
I paint it in all my books!
It’s carved high up on the beech-tree bark,
How neat and lovely it looks!
So don’t forget that it’s my trade mark;
Don’t copy it in your books.
Claire has a tea-rose, but she didn’t plant it;
Ben has an iris, but I don’t want it.
Daisies, double red daisies for me,
The beautifulest flowers in the garden.
poem by Robert Graves
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A Picture Of Our Little Garden
The sand mound on the left,
And the colourful Zinnias edging it;
With profuse Asters adjacent,
And the triangular red bricks bordering it;
The wide windows artistic grille,
Below are the bright Cannas to the right;
The pale blue curtain over the window sill,
Over looking the blooming Hollyhocks bright;
The dense green leaves of the Radish,
With intermittent Balsams red and white;
The long stalked nodding Cosmos' swish,
All enchant and cheer the mind and sight.
The smooth and slender butterflies,
Both diurnal and crepuscular;
Of various hues fly, sit and rise,
Flit from flower to another flower.
Their wings are held vertically at rest,
Then when they bask in the sun they out-stretch:
Butterflies are Nature's beauteous best,
They to our hearts joy and delight fetch.
The yellow Sunflowers standing tall,
With the tender Jasmine climber to the fore;
Their white fragrant flowers allure all,
The picture perfect garden all of us adore.
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Blue and You
It was Panama
And blue butterflies
Significant as Blue Velvet
Blue as the sea's surrounding it
Blue as your eye's
With glimmer's of surprise
Dancing with your smile
Near to Panama's quarter mile
You could have won me over
I was vunerable
And open
Empty arms
Just waiting
Your charms
Mixed signals
Sent
Too much time
Spent
Wondering?
Flirtation or imagination?
I'll never know
But Blue Butterflies do exist
In Panama's
Color tipped show
poem by Theodora Onken
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My Wish For You Now
i wish that there will be
peace above your head
like butterflies so still
on leaves at noon.
i wish you sweet dreams
soft, cool, colors
baby pinks and
pastel blues
white lotus blooming
as you sleep.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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The Fury of Flowers and Worms
Let the flowers make a journey
on Monday so that I can see
ten daisies in a blue vase
with perhaps one red ant
crawling to the gold center.
A bit of the field on my table,
close to the worms
who struggle blinding,
moving deep into their slime,
moving deep into God's abdomen,
moving like oil through water,
sliding through the good brown.
The daisies grow wild
like popcorn.
They are God's promise to the field.
How happy I am, daisies, to love you.
How happy you are to be loved
and found magical, like a secret
from the sluggish field.
If all the world picked daisies
wars would end, the common cold would stop,
unemployment would end, the monetary market
would hold steady and no money would float.
Listen world.
if you'd just take the time to pick
the white flowers, the penny heart,
all would be well.
They are so unexpected.
They are as good as salt.
If someone had brought them
to van Gogh's room daily
his ear would have stayed on.
I would like to think that no one would die anymore
if we all believed in daisies
but the worms know better, don't they?
They slide into the ear of a corpse
and listen to his great sigh.
poem by Anne Sexton
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A White Cloud
A white cloud
On my blue heart
Fluttering on an autumn day
poem by Anita George
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Once more
Gods place, paradise, heaven
It was just more than that
First time you kissed me, when
When your lips and mine had contact
White clouds, blue sky, flowers blooming
Butterflies, rabbits, couple of doves
On green trees lots of birds singing
For us singing songs of love
That heavenly moment, I can't explain
That happy moment even from my deep hearts core
So come baby make me feel like that again
Bring your lips to mine and kiss me once more…
The end
poem by Sushanta Rokka
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The Dying Child
He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o'er the green.
His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.
Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?
He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
As childhood's sweet delight.
And then he shut his little eyes,
And flowers would notice not;
Birds' nests and eggs caused no surprise,
He now no blossoms got;
They met with plaintive sighs.
When winter came and blasts did sigh,
And bare were plain and tree,
As he for ease in bed did lie
His soul seemed with the free,
He died so quietly.
poem by John Clare
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A good morning wish
A touch
Like the first ray of morning Sun
Wipes out the accrued pain of darkness.
The world of mine of a sleepless night
Suddenly gets drenched in flurry of colors.
The silence breaks with so much of joy all around.
Hear it in birds' song,
In fluttering wings of butterflies,
In opening of petals of blossoming flowers.
Your Good Morning wish sets free my Captive heart
It spreads wings and soars high,
Embracing the blue of endless sky.
I feel my heart gets painted in colors
Of this blissful world of flowers
And butterflies.
Suddenly I find my world has no horizon.
poem by Kingshuk Chakraborty
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