Transformation
What is life...
but a caterpillar’s
feeble grubbing.
What is death...
metamorphosis unfolded
into being of light.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Miracles Of Transformation
place lived in could be
a harsh barren dessert
where sudden sand storm
can strip our life to bone
God hides great serene
beauty in strange places
to teach hope in inspired
miracles of transformation
there is incredible serene beauty written...
into mysterious timeless dessert places...
once a gardener asked God for two gifts:
a beautiful plant with colourful flowers,
and a butterfly to flutter about the flowers,
to add beauty to his small potted garden:
the gardener excited waited for his flowering plant...
the beautiful butterfly he believed God would give...
the gardener prayed for forty days and forty nights:
God observing devotional faith answered his prayer;
presented him with a cactus plant and a caterpillar;
are you surprised because the gardener asked for,
a beautiful plant with amazing colorful flowers,
yet God answered his prayers with a cactus plant?
God knew the needs of the man’s faithful heart:
secrets written into his patient appreciative soul;
the gardener knew the secret ways of dessert life;
for many days the gardener thanked God for this gift,
of sacred life; to add beauty to his small potted garden:
at dawn dust all hours between; the gardener thanked,
God for the wisdom glory of this special gift bestowed:
soon the cacti bloomed with amazing colourful flowers,
and in the place of the caterpillar there was a beautiful,
stunning butterfly, to flutter about the colourful flowers:
God told that gardener old a new spiritual message.
God said “I will send my only begotten son, to be
born as flesh, like the caterpillar I gave you on the
cactus plant, to walk in the world; my man of faith”
God said “My child how you wondered,
what had happened to the caterpillar?
From where did the butterfly come? ”
God said “This mystery of life I wrote into creation”.
“I envisage transformation from your body of clay
into a body of light; as a miracle as meaningful as
the journey of a caterpillar; for my son will pass
through metamorphosis death into resurrected life!
This journey is my undeserved gift for the seed of Adam!
Original Sin will be defeated through this sinless sacrifice;
of my only begotten son; who will defeat the sting of death!
accept this ransom sacrifice my child as reconciliation;
through the blood of my son to resurrection in heaven.”
that gardener old, knew the cactus plant was the cross;
metamorphosis death was the tomb; flowers the message,
blooming in the world, through work of Holy Spirit; who
spread miraculous testament, the butterfly transformation,
resurrection of Jesus Christ; clay into restored body of light:
poem by Terence George Craddock
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What This Poetry Is Trying To Achieve
nothing and no one
saves us
from this life
death situation
now you must
realize the purpose of
poetry
it does not save us
from death or
hunger or
pain
though it can lessen
this misery
like a pillow in our
heads when
we really badly need
to sleep
& rest
poetry never promised you
redemption
they are just words to say the least
somehow
it changes the way we look at life
and death
i love the metamorphosis
metaphor
of that caterpillar, cocoon
butterfly thing
this is not a case of a sinking ship
where rats are
raging furiously out of the mess
to save themselves
this is not a house burning
where our only dream is an exit
or a prison cell where we always
speak of liberation
a cave, a tunnel, a pit
where light becomes a dream
this is but a realistic approach
to an existential nihilism
we are but spectators of this show
and participants as well
we all live and leave and then
be all silent because we have then
decoded the mysteries of our
innate truths
again i am into this Rubicon of words
trying to untangle and in the very process
caught so well in my own
imaginary cave, a prison, a darkness
which i very well know is just temporary.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unfolded Out Of The Folds
UNFOLDED out of the folds of the woman, man comes unfolded, and is
always to come unfolded;
Unfolded only out of the superbest woman of the earth, is to come the
superbest man of the earth;
Unfolded out of the friendliest woman, is to come the friendliest
man;
Unfolded only out of the perfect body of a woman, can a man be form'd
of perfect body;
Unfolded only out of the inimitable poem of the woman, can come the
poems of man--(only thence have my poems come;)
Unfolded out of the strong and arrogant woman I love, only thence can
appear the strong and arrogant man I love;
Unfolded by brawny embraces from the well-muscled woman I love, only
thence come the brawny embraces of the man;
Unfolded out of the folds of the woman's brain, come all the folds of
the man's brain, duly obedient;
Unfolded out of the justice of the woman, all justice is unfolded;
Unfolded out of the sympathy of the woman is all sympathy: 10
A man is a great thing upon the earth, and through eternity--but
every jot of the greatness of man is unfolded out of woman,
First the man is shaped in the woman, he can then be shaped in
himself.
poem by Walt Whitman
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In Leaf Fall Learn
give leaf to leaven
busy hungry crawl caterpillar;
free to wander dawn
where it chance may
to spin silken
dream transition one glorious day;
to spin woven
dream seen inspiration as caterpillar
crawl in dust leaf learn
until time to metamorphosis turn;
dreams grounded stay
not earthbound stubborn
aspire to destiny blue cloud heaven
leap in faith learn to freedom fly;
patient be stretch birth beat wings dry
upon breath breeze sing embrace sky
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Always Remember My Dear Caterpillar
always remember what the black bird once chirped
that wise bird long buried in the sands and leaves of time
that which angers you
conquers you
that which does not kill you
strengthens you
that which you love
enslaves you
and that which loves you
with fire from her eyes
and cinders from her heart
may soon
make you the most vulnerable
link in the chain
of creation
a caterpillar crawling
in the world of roses
either it soon turns to stone
a pebble or even dust
with no promise of
metamorphosis
once in the life of the
trusting butterfly
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Fascination
Death fascinates;
Life can be cruel.
Death is my morbid but most-loved obsession.
Life is hard-
I am out of control.
Death is my relationship to reality-
Life is not fair.
Death is an entity of beauty, though
Life is strange…
Death is veracity, although it can be
The facet of my delusions-
I live my life while
Thoughts of death are so often invasive.
Death is mysterious, and
Life is a river refracting light-
Death is dark but intriguing.
Life is amazing.
Death in turn- is amazing as it can be.
I live my life in a dream world.
Death is indeed mysterious, although-
Life
Is
Stranger…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Light is out, Black is in
The light is getting dark
the clouds are turning gray
but i'll be ok
The day turns to night
and it's not going to change
So i'll walk through the streets
to see myself in a different light
The dark catches up and i'm covered
with death and dark
the dark is my new best friend
Through the dark i can control death
Through my death i can see my life
the life that was, is and could have been
with my new found friend comes
the choice of life or death
The dark is good it's new
the light was bad it's old
through the dark new choices arrive
with the light nothing was to choose
The dark is getting darker
but is that good or bad
cause it means death is for sure
I want the light back
I want to see myself not a stranger
poem by Jess Jayne
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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(Love) Caterpillar
My love goes to you alone,
Because I know what you can become.
I will be true to you, every minute waking.
You may just be a caterpillar to them
But to me you're a butterfly in the making.
And when you spread those wings of yours,
They'll all look at you, flabbergasted and dumb,
And know why I stuck with you,
A caterpillar that no one knew
To a butterfly where no one knows came from.
poem by K. Jared Hosein
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Psalm 144 part 2
v.3-6
C. M.
The vanity of man and condescension of God.
Lord, what is man, poor feeble man,
Born of the earth at first?
His life a shadow, light and vain,
Still hasting to the dust.
O what is feeble, dying man,
Or any of his race,
That God should make it his concern
To visit him with grace?
That God who darts his lightnings down,
Who shakes the worlds above,
And mountains tremble at his frown,
How wondrous is his love!
poem by Isaac Watts
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Teaching a child not to step on a caterpillar is as valuable to the child as it is to the caterpillar.
quote by Bradley Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Not The Butterfly
he now prefers
the caterpillar
to bring the
news of his
death
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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211
he now prefers
the caterpillar
to bring the
news of his
death
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Death Is The End
Death Is The End,
Death Is Sadness,
Death Is Dark,
Death Is Light,
Death Is The End To Your Short Life,
Death Is The Begining To Your Eternal Life,
Death Isn't The End,
Death Isn't Sadness,
Death Is Happyness,
Death Is Your Final Rest,
Death Is Your Second And Final Begining,
Death Is Your Rebirth,
Death Is Final...........
Metamorphosis Crucifixion
why do so few sit observe the natural order
contemplate the beauty mystery of creation
perceive hand purpose of God written in creation
transformation of flesh into new more glorious life
journey caterpillar cocoon chrysalis silk case
embryo larva pupa metamorphosis imago
Holy Spirit immaculate conception Messiah
holy spirit fetus baby infant man prophet saviour
human embodiment of word divine interjection
birth baptism immersion symbolic purification
miraculous healings miracles teachings ministry
Jesus' stripes crucifixion death tomb resurrection
sacred message God anointed Jesus Christ
with holy spirit and power to die for your sins
God raised Jesus up restored Christ to heaven
Ascension of Jesus Pentecost ministry worldwide
rapture wedding feast of lamb battle judgement
perfect sinless ransom sacrifice was made for your soul
accept blood sacrifice of Christ for your sins washed clean
the way the truth the light redeemed his lost sheep claiming
none enter into the kingdom of God except through Christ
an undeserved unearned restoration gift from Almighty God
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Beldame of Death
A crunch: afoot a dead arachnid
Spanning once a serving plate –
Oh! that others be alive
With such as me for spider bait!
I slunk along the silent hall
Of ancient ore attired in grime –
Feculent beyond the nose;
No bearing here, nor feel for time.
I shuddered in appreciation –
The ambience would mortify
A feeble mind, aghast, opined
Of murky thought, and typify
The will of Belial err I brought
Upon myself to loathe and dread
Exquisite retribution: to linger
Oftentimes alive, then dead.
Compulsion saw me edging on
Toward a narrow door of oak.
Behind, I knew, a greater evil
Waiting in her fusty cloak.
A choice of nil upon the table;
Aught of leave, I had to face
Alone the shrew – her flaming aura
Angling me; my deep disgrace
From ugly deeds I dealt in life,
A heinous world I honed in glee…
'Now take a crooked path to death,
For I have come to torture thee! '
Out of eyes of orange flame,
A piercing glare, then here it came –
The cackling cry of chanting song:
'You thought you'd die alone in pain
The once – nay nay! you'll die with me,
And so a catch: you'll die again
Ad infinitum - ever be!
Your soul to curse, my heart we'll gore,
Your liver to draw and quarter;
A sadomasochistic pair,
We'll slither together in slaughter! '
I answered only with a scream, from
Sensing near her craving lust.
My crimes to answer; wrongs annul;
Renounce my soul and turn to dust...
On an evening cool and quiet,
Stretch an ear to listen tight –
Are you lucky of a moment –?
Hark! my clarion call of plight.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
Notes on this poem can be found at:
http: //succumbedtothinking.webs.com/featuredpoems.htm
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Sweet Sweet Death
Life is a game...
i am starting to see to
many disappointing sides of it
but then the light appears
illuminating the emptiness
inside me...
As my eyes close up heading
to the light death is my best
option as happiness feel my life
and end this pain take me away
let me live and pain no more
to finish this useless struggle...
to end this useless fight...
i stand up to my fate leaving
behind me all these regrets no more
worries and no more love as i embrace death
as death receives my soul, i welcome the
fading light, allowing
death to end my existence
poem by Robert Roberts
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Death, Inevitable Death
Death, inevitable Death.
So now You come to show Your world,
Hence the blackened cloak – unfurled.
And peering down upon my form
– Bereft of pity – Your eyes of storm.
Death, inexorable Death.
‘When? ’ The only question out of Thee.
My dream retorts 'But ne’er for me! ’
But now awake, I bid you so –
My giving tears cry ‘Where to go? ’
Death, adamant Death.
You cast Your spell and guide me 'way,
For life and I have had our day.
And what of me? I prey You, tell!
Be glorious in Heaven or gnarled in Hell?
Death, ineluctable Death.
Oh wiry ghoul, I'm here to follow –
I leave my body grey and shallow.
‘Come! ’ You bid in thund’ring tones,
‘Beg farewell to shattered bones.’
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Butterfly
A caterpillar had the feeling
That change was coming
That time was stealing.
To embrace the metamorphosis
It wove a cocoon around its chest
And choose our wall to take its rest.
The young are thoughtless, often cruel
And I was no exception.
I would have destroyed it but
for Frankie’s intervention.
Frankie lived in the corner house
He was older and quite wise.
He taught me that this green cocoon
would change into a butterfly.
He bade me watch, he had me wait
to see the wonder taking shape.
We saw the Monarch first take wing
once caterpillar, now a King.
Several summers passed us by.
I still lived but Frankie died-
He was just eighteen, Young and brave
A landmine put him in his grave.
He died just before Saigon’s fall
His name’s inscribed upon the Wall
Corporal Frank Evangelista Junior,
beloved by mother and mourned by sister.
A terrible loss when Frankie died-
He might have been a butterfly.
(The incident with the Butterfly happened in 1960. Lance Corporal Frank Paul Evangelista jr.USMC died during the Vietnam war when a landmine blew up his jeep. I recall he died in March of 1969, but I altered the time lines slightly(using my poetic license) .. Had he emerged from the experience of war, he may have proved to be a great man.)
poem by John F. McCullagh
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