The Worm And The Flower
and so it happens
that each kept each nature
unique to itself
even in their own terms
of loving
the flower bloomed
the worm ate it
petal by petal
time justifies the consumption
upon the wings of
a beautiful butterfly
the wind still loves the sound
of the flutters
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
The Petal Game
pick a flower
to play the petal game
pluck a petal
he loves me
pluck a petal
I don't love him
pluck a petal
he keeps getting closer
pluck a petal
I keep pushing him away
pluck a petal
he is always around me
pluck a petal
I hide away from him
pluck a petal
he is always protecting me
pluck a petal
I just punch him in the gut
pluck a petal
he never seems to get it
pluck a petal
I really hate his guts
pluck a petal
he just really bugs me
pluck a petal
I need a new flower now
pick a flower
to play the petal game
poem by Amber Lyn Charneski
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The Shortest Moment That The Butterfly Tries To Speak
how many flutters of its wings is its lifetime?
not a hundred, this butterfly with blue shaking lines on its wings
some dots of black on the lower tip
some flaps of dust as you hold it.
we love to see it freely hovering from one flower to another
blending with its colors, it is not trying to hide anything
beautiful, it is showing itself, beautiful butterfly,
how gentle, soft to our hearts as we watch it
there is no sound of its wings and its graceful feeding on the nectars
then it rests on a leaf. we leave it there.
the wind last night was strong.
we see the leaf where it stayed on the pebbled ground.
there are no wings. there is no trace where the blue butterfly is.
how many flutters did that butterfly make?
such a brief moment, yet so beautiful
that is the message of the life of its lost wings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Dying Flower
Each Flower Petal Slowly Dying
Light Whispers Of Death
Hanging In The Brisk Afternoon Air
Lightly A Petal Floats Towards The Ground
A Gust Of Wind Quickly Whisks It Away
One By One The Flower Becomes Bearer
As Each Petal Vanishes.
The Day's Become Darker
The Nights Lighten
And The Flower Becomes Lonely
Till Eventually Only A Stem Remains
To Show It's Cycle Of Life.
The Flower Willows Towards It's End
The Petals Become Scarce
What Once Used To Be A Colour Delight
Now Hangs In Deaths Mist
As An Emerald Waiting...
Waiting For The Last Petal To Die.
Finally The Emerald Stem Dies Away
And Slowly Decay
For Again One Day
It Shall Show Its Colours
And Whistle In The Wind
With All It's Petals In Full Bloom...
poem by Ian Humphreys
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After You Unfold As A Flower In Complete Bloom
i see you unfolding as a flower to me
i become your sun to shine upon you
as you bloom completely
i watch the beauty before me
i am warm too as you are so beautiful
to the caresses of my rays
i hold you then kissing everything
your petals your leaves your receptacles
after you unfold as a flower in complete bloom
i will make you
some dews
gleaming
then i leave in this sunset of my life
you too must fall
petal by petal
then the leaves too must die
such is the temporary nature of our meeting
so beautiful yes
so brief indeed
and no dew of time must ever be wasted
till we meet again
i will always be the sun and you shall always be the
flower unfolding
to such a marvelous complete blooming
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Petal Effect
A flower is born, bringing life to Earth.
With the experiences made on Earth,
A petal falls off the flower.
It slowly takes life from the flower.
He has his first crush, one petal is lost.
Bachelor's degree is obtained and requires another petal.
A family drops two more precious petals.
The last petal falls as life ends on Earth.
poem by Cody Klinker
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The Collective: The Petal Plucked
In the modest autumn gust
Amidst the flock of gyratory leaves
An inflection of bright wanderlust
From a regal flower must've been bereaved
It plummets through the violent thrusts
With piquant grace you would not believe
A petal plucked from no one knew
What flower or thorn it do belong
Bu the danseuse in its supple hue,
And balmy redolence, and lazy songs
Invokes a comfort in the milieu
Stained with tumult of wings and prongs
A saturnalia waves with the petal
As it fall and rise in neutrality
Coming gay, chaste and vestal
With fluent motions of a gypsy
That afflicts enthralls of carousals
In simple wonders and niceties
A petal needs not be in plethora-
A flower not, to posses significant aroma
poem by Norman Santos
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My beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower
You are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
i am glad i picked you
poem by Allen Steble
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My Beautiful Love
you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
hand in hand
...in my hand
holding this precious gift
the blossom of your beauty
you are my beautiful flower
you are my flower
you are my sweet soft petal
heart in heart
just one heart
beating to your sweet aroma
the aroma of your splendor
you are my beautiful flower
you are my flower
you are my first blossom
blossoming love
you are my love
you are my first and true
like sunset ocean blue
you are my beautiful flower
I am glad I picked you
poem by Chidiebere Franklin
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Come My Butterfly
Come!
my butterfly
spread
your colorful
wings
fly
to me.
light on
my
flower petal
let us
bathe
in the
nectar.
Come!
my butterfly
let us
share
dreams
until they
become
one.
copyright by heather burns
poem by Heather Burns
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8
what appears is what it is
that is how simple it is
and how beautiful can it be
a petal of a flower is nothing
but a petal of a flower
falling to the ground on a
windless day
caused by no other than
this pull of gravity
we watch a world unfolding
we only use words because there is a need to write
what beautiful thing we have seen
but there is more to the simplicity of all these things
those that we have seen and felt and
cannot completely tell you
even in the most simple words of our poetry
the experience of beauty is so personal
like how i experience the poetry of the heart
it is like this, no, it is like this... words fail now
(........)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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12
what appears is what it is
that is how simple it is
and how beautiful can it be
a petal of a flower is nothing
but a petal of a flower
falling to the ground on a
windless day
caused by no other than
this pull of gravity
we watch a world unfolding
we only use words because there is a need to write
what beautiful thing we have seen
but there is more to the simplicity of all these things
those that we have seen and felt and
cannot completely tell you
even in the most simple words of our poetry
the experience of beauty is so personal
like how i experience the poetry of the heart
it is like this, no, it is like this... words fail now
(........)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Saudade
just a shadow presence
there I feel you
where we used to meet
but not any more
just a fully bloomed flower
off falls a petal
there is a perfectly completed mission
but not any more
I find the imperfect beautiful
climax is too short to stay there
Thats the Butterfly in Me
Got to be where every flower I see
Thats the butterfly
in me
yes, Thats the butterfly
in me
I come and go on the wind
and soar in the sky
Cos thats just the butterfly
in me
I've got the wind under my beautiful
wings and my heart is happy
and it sings
Thats just the butterfly
in me
My colors run deeper
than the colors of the sea
Cos thats
the butterfly in me
poem by Dorsey Baker
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Magical Love
You sound like
The rush of an Angel's wings
Taking flight
When you speak
Or the twinkling of wind chimes
Off in the distant night air
Heard, but unseen
You are like
Morning dew
In the afternoon
Or random raindrops
In rare moments
On a soft and sunlit day
You feel like
The softest petal
On a newly bloomed rose
When you whisper
Against my ear
While my eyes are closed
You are the
Crash of the ocean
When its waves wash ashore
Or the still and the calm
Of a storm, just before
Your fingertips trail
Up my spine
Then down my thigh
Your lips never once
Leaving mine
Your touch feels
As light as a fallen feather
Drifting slowly
Toward the ground
All things seem magical
Your love is musical
What a beautiful sound
poem by Erika Wingo
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Poem about Poetry - Did I write them?
did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
does the flower
blossom on its own?
not, not entirely
there are hands
that help each petal
tilt itself, one by one
so that the flower
inches and express
its beauty to you
beauty installed
by a set of hands
one could only describe as
the Lofty Ones
did i write my poems?
no, not entirely
there are verses
that have sprung
in the the mind like
the flower
so finely tuned each
petal has moved, so that
they are in unison with each other
so that they converge as
a beauty all done up to glorify
the unseen hands
the unseen, the unseen
that could only be
known by the heart
as every petal moves
like word to take the heart
to the height of praise
for the Lofty One
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Birth Of The Yellow Butterfly
on the gumamela leaf
the small cocoon hangs
there for days and
you wait for the
usual surprise in this
garden
it wriggles out and
pulls itself from
a tight house
it holds itself at the
tip of the leaf and
gets a fan from
the wind and then
stretches itself
and spreads its
wings and finally
flies away
how beautiful
to see
the birth of another
yellow butterfly
regally erect and
flutters from flower
to flower like she
were a princess
in her green castle
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cult Of The Sun
sun is –
the last
Fuhrer
beasts are –
only the members of
the Party
only the flight and
freedom of
birds!
let
all angels
die
there is
no tinge of
“good”
there is
no tinge of
“evil”
there is
no tinge of
“human”
nothing but!
the battle of!
butterflies!
return back What
Is above
God
Dao is
happy for
nobody
shit of
the bees is above
Buddha
wounds of
the lamb are above
Christ
it’s time to!
revive as!
a worm!
it is the worm that is
the revived
flower
black butterfly is
for the sake of
white butterfly
white butterfly is
for the sake of
black butterfly
let!
all! die!
angels!
here It is
The Last
Mystery:
the sound of wings
of Started
Butterflies
must
kill
the god
must
kill
the world
poem by AZsacra ZARATHUSTRA
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Do it with grace
It is the Butterfly that visits flowers
And not vice versa.
Is it why you made me frequent to you
Yourself remaining passive?
I am happy that you had admitted me.
I am on your petal.
No flower rejects the landed Butterfly
From sucking her nectar.
30.03.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Butterfly
Nobody knows this little butterfly,
who wanders and roams
who seeks for the senses of love,
Nobody knows her, so tender so pure,
little butterfly, her colors are baby pastels
like new souls and holy spirits of bliss.
Every petal touched by her caterpillars
become an essences to the touch, her
ultraviolet sight that only she can posses,
The wonder of her unique little body and
sense, nobody knows her, nobody
sees the beauty in her.
Only the blissful only the lovers
of love, nobody knows her,
nobody sees her, because those who see
are blind to her colors and soul,
I am a butterfly
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Petals
Life is a stream
On which we strew
Petal by petal the flower of our heart;
The end lost in dream,
They float past our view,
We only watch their glad, early start.
Freighted with hope,
Crimsoned with joy,
We scatter the leaves of our opening rose;
Their widening scope,
Their distant employ,
We never shall know. And the stream as it flows
Sweeps them away,
Each one is gone
Ever beyond into infinite ways.
We alone stay
While years hurry on,
The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.
poem by Amy Lowell
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