The Genesis of the Butterfly
The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind's playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies
poem by Victor Hugo
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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's Yearnings
Summer's eyes look me for heat and flowers
succeeding the spring buds with which adorned her
I am cast as Spring Calling
buds my Siren Flowers
I rose
inside her
flower petal Springings
because I
heat from inside
lying down with her Summer Fevered Longings.
Her roses bloom from my Spring Pollinations;
I give her Summer Glory
and and receives
all my Spring
Offerings.
'What good it be
dressed up in Summer Light' you say
'in Summer Jasmine Perfumes
if you do not arrive each time
to kiss me in my feverish night? '
'What sates sweet summer lips' longings
without your spring kisses joining
kisses which seal our souls
In unspoken understandings;
lips which kiss and hold in the secret night
hearts pounding
melding souls
swept up in destiny's yearnings
you offering a wet mouth
I a crimson cheek quivering
we two lost in Shudderings Desire
which press us two together
two on two
making then between us
Love's Single Season.
because lovers
make things
previously apart
into One
and
Discrete Time
fades into
into
Summer's Eternities.'
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Jasmine & Jonquils In June...
Jasmine and Jonquils In June
Bougainvilleas and Brides Are In Bloom
Also Roses and Ribbons In Rooms
Growing Standing Ovations Of Grooms
White Satin, Silk, Chantilly Lace
Soft Symbol Veils, Flowing Over Lady’s Face
As Long Trains and Butterflies Chase
Yet, In A Vision of Elegance and Grace
Slowly, She Moves Down The Aisle
Amid Garden Rows Of Sunshine Smiles
Been Waiting For The Season Awhile
But GOD’s Blessings and Bouquets: Always In Style
As Expectant Hush, Fills Fragrant Room
For Exchanged Vows Of Brides and Grooms
And Their New Life About To Bloom
Like Jasmine and Jonquils In June
Written & ©: 5/1/10
By: The MoonBee
poem by MoonBee Canady
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The Lost Embassy
THE lilies lean to the white, white rose,
The sweet limes send to the blossomed trees,
Soft kisses borne by the golden bees--
And all the world is alive, awake,
And glad to the heart for the summer's sake.
From her tower window the Princess leant,
Where the white light butterflies came and went;
She dropped soft kisses by twos and threes:
'White butterflies mine, will you carry these
To my Prince in prison? for they, who knows,
May break the spell that has held him close
And wake him and win him to stand up free
And laugh--in the sun--with me!'
White lilies, gold in the golden sun,
White Princess, gold in your golden gown--
Far off lies the sad, enchanted town!
Bright wings, light wings, white wings that tire,
Though they carry the flower of the heart's desire--
Will you trust to these, too white, too slight
To bring back the fruit of heart's delight?
All round and about the spell-bound town
The ways are dusty, the woods are brown;
There are no green coverts, no welcoming flowers
For little weary butterfly wings,
No dew, no lilies, no glad live things.
'Neath the sky of steel and the brazen sun
White wings, kiss-laden, dropped one by one:
By twos and threes they dropped by the way,
And only one reached the grim, gray tower
Where, witched from his kingdom, the poor Prince lay--
One poor tired butterfly, smirched and gray
With the dust of the town and the weary way,
And it lit on the Prince's hand and died.
'Bright wings, light wings, white wings,' he cried
'You, only you, might have lived and borne
My prayer to my love in her tower forlorn,
And brought back the kiss that could set me free--
She might have broken the spell that lies
On my foolish heart and my foolish eyes--
But no live butterflies come my way!'
The winds are cold and the skies are gray,
And all the lilies died yesterday;
The Princess leans from her steel-wrought tower
To watch for her butterflies hour by hour.
Poor little Princess, you watch in vain!
Butterflies die where the green wood browns,
And kisses sent to enchanted towns
Never come home again.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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One Passionate Kiss
Who thought that one kiss
One innocent kiss
That meant nothing at first
Could change everything
Could lead to things we have not experience
Could let us enjoy so much that
We've wanted for so long
Could make us feel the same feelings at the same time
Being really loved
Being whole
Being a part of something that's worth our time
Could make your eyes sparkle
As if you wouldn't want to be or doing
Anything else in the world
Could give us a natural high
Could give my soul wings
Makes my body feel as if it was floating in the clouds
Could make my eyes twinkle just like you were too
Steal two stars and plant then in my eyes
Could mean nothing at first but then stole our breath away
And from that moment on I have been hooked on you
I can't get enough of you
I always want more and more never doing enough for you
Always feeling that I need to do more
Or you deserve more
And ask myself why such a great man like you
Would want anything to do with such a not so great woman
But as I look into your dreamy eyes
All my worries explode my body like a
Ticking time bomb that went off
Who would think that such a harmless kiss
Could make me want so much more then
Such an innocent kiss
Would make me want to do
I never thought such a kiss excised but
The first time you looked into my eyes
With your dreamy eyes telling me
I love you baby without even speaking
Then your tender inexperienced lips pressed gently against mine
Nervous about if you're doing something wrong
But really you were doing everything right
The butterflies were got in a hurricane
And trying to fly out of it flapping
There wings as hard and as fast as they could
In my stomach
But could it really have hurt anything
It was only
One passionate kiss
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
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Fair Flowers
Blossom fair flowers of my fair lady,
The prime time of love is now here to share with her;
For her precious petals are now full of love.
To unfold the truth and to kiss what she has to give to me,
But, i want to spin around the spot of love with pleasure things;
And with the blossom of fair flowers of her love.
Float like a butterfly and sting like a gnat on this muse!
For, i was born to love my fair lady in the ladn of beautiful flowers;
And, behind every great vision, there is a positive realm.
To cry at birth and to cry when you are older,
over the clouds of love and with the beauty of the rainbow around;
But this parasie of love is for my fair lady and i,
And like the black ribbon up high in the sky! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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You Never Loved
You had no experience of love,
If loved why you didn’t ask
From paths about the destination,
You might have written
Any message on the gusts of wind,
Why didn’t you search for the name,
Written on stems of the trees.
You might have remembered,
Fragrant roses soaked in the cold dew,
And the moment
When you touched my colourful Anchal,
We conversed about butterflies
And glowworms, and sometimes
Sketched hearts on the paper-boat
By pouring out the words of dream.
You might have remembered,
Valiancy of the flower-fly
And opening of the buds into petals.
Did you ever love? If you loved,
You could never forget all these affairs.
No my love, you did not love,
You might have seen love,
You might have thought for love,
You might have wished for love,
But you never loved at all….
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Baby Running Barefoot
When the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass
The little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind,
They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water;
And the sight of their white play among the grass
Is like a little robin’s song, winsome,
Or as two white butterflies settle in the cup of one flower
For a moment, then away with a flutter of wings.
I long for the baby to wander hither to me
Like a wind-shadow wandering over the water,
So that she can stand on my knee
With her little bare feet in my hands,
Cool like syringa buds,
Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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07. Love, what is Love?
love, oh what is love?
flowers in so many shapes and hues
giving sweetness to butterflies and bees
in so many shapes and hues
in the field, a buzz, a joy, these insects
help create another world
another paradise, warm colourful flower garden
for lovers of the world
help spread cheers everywhere
with the sweetness the flowers
where the flowers are, the butterflies, the bees are
where there is love, joy spreads
wide as the field
just look at the butterflies and the bees
how they cheer up the field with their songs and dance
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Dot On White Sheet!
Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!
Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!
Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!
poem by Ramesh T A
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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Spring In Bloom
Spring has came and open
It's doors
Peeping it's head from
Beyond the cloud
Whistling away the winter
As the spring is in bloom
The
Blossoms of red, white and
Pink
Covers the grasslands so
Beautiful it glaze
With all the
Different hues of colours
Sweeping and swaying
With the wind
Love is in the air while
Spring sprouts a leak
Smiling faces all a glow
Cause
Love is in the air
Fair maiden hearts ah
Dancing
As springs peeps out it's
Head
Coloring the air with pink's
And blues
Just floating in the air
poem by Carolyn Sears
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Exorcising The Devil
she like a witch
fly on black nights
shattering dreams
cutting lovers'hearts
she scattred blackworms
that resides and worn out souls
she a devil disguise as an angel clad in white
yet i with the moonbeams in my palm
and with the dawn beyond
chase her behind black clouds
and with the love coming from a beautiful soul
she scampered away
with her witchbroom
we have a new day of hope
a new beginning and..
flowers begin to bloom
i exorcized the devil
out of a pure love to life
poem by Villiamor Calventas
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Avril, La Douce Esperance
Come, spring, and bring the flowers again,
And plant the primrose by the brook:
Let love not languish at a look;
For she may grow more gentle then,
When springtime brings the flowers again.
Come, April, spreading kinder skies,
And make the leaves with sunshine laugh:
Perchance my love will learn to have
A softer tremor in her eyes,
When April comes with kinder skies.
Come, June, bring splendour of the rose;
Come, bring delight of tint and scent:
My darling will perhaps relent
And love me then, as once, - who knows?
When June brings splendour of the rose.
poem by Thomas Ashe
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The Year of the Rose
From the depths of the green garden-closes
Where the summer in darkness dozes
Till autumn pluck from his hand
An hour-glass that holds not a sand;
From the maze that a flower-belt encloses
To the stones and sea-grass on the strand
How red was the reign of the roses
Over the rose-crowned land!
The year of the rose is brief;
From the first blade blown to the sheaf,
From the thin green leaf to the gold,
It has time to be sweet and grow old,
To triumph and leave not a leaf
For witness in winter's sight
How lovers once in the light
Would mix their breath with its breath,
And its spirit was quenched not of night,
As love is subdued not of death.
In the red-rose land not a mile
Of the meadows from stile to stile,
Of the valleys from stream to stream,
But the air was a long sweet dream
And the earth was a sweet wide smile
Red-mouthed of a goddess, returned
From the sea which had borne her and burned,
That with one swift smile of her mouth
Looked full on the north as it yearned,
And the north was more than the south.
For the north, when winter was long,
In his heart had made him a song,
And clothed it with wings of desire,
And shod it with shoon as of fire,
To carry the tale of his wrong
To the south-west wind by the sea,
That none might bear it but he
To the ear of the goddess unknown
Who waits till her time shall be
To take the world for a throne.
In the earth beneath, and above
In the heaven where her name is love,
She warms with light from her eyes
The seasons of life as they rise,
And her eyes are as eyes of a dove,
But the wings that lift her and bear
As an eagle's, and all her hair
As fire by the wind's breath curled,
And her passage is song through the air,
And her presence is spring through the world.
So turned she northward and came,
And the white-thorn land was aflame
With the fires that were shed from her feet,
That the north, by her love made sweet,
Should be called by a rose-red name;
And a murmur was heard as of doves,
And a music beginning of loves
In the light that the roses made,
Such light as the music loves,
The music of man with maid.
But the days drop one upon one,
And a chill soft wind is begun
In the heart of the rose-red maze
That weeps for the roseleaf days
And the reign of the rose undone
That ruled so long in the light,
And by spirit, and not by sight,
Through the darkness thrilled with its breath,
Still ruled in the viewless night,
As love might rule over death.
The time of lovers is brief;
From the fair first joy to the grief
That tells when love is grown old,
From the warm wild kiss to the cold,
From the red to the white-rose leaf,
They have but a season to seem
As rose-leaves lost on a stream
That part not and pass not apart
As a spirit from dream to dream,
As a sorrow from heart to heart.
From the bloom and the gloom that encloses
The death-bed of Love where he dozes
Till a relic be left not of sand
To the hour-glass that breaks in his hand;
From the change in the grey garden-closes
To the last stray grass of the strand,
A rain and ruin of roses
Over the red-rose land.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Love Sonnet 03: My Love Is The Kiss Of The Morning Dew,
My love is the kiss of the morning dew,
Pure as the meadow rain that makes grass grow,
Or else, as tears that jealous lovers knew,
Or water from the falls that rocks would throw;
Her smile is as flight on wings of delight,
That raised my dreams, to ascend skies so high,
Which kept Euphoria very well in sight,
Never to fear of running out of sky;
Her touch, soft as though petal falling down,
Torn from rose wildly tossing in the wind,
Landing on my face, smothering a frown,
And all pervading cares, it would rescind;
......Could Heaven send an angel much fairer?
......Yet, for my love, it can't belittle her?
.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
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Young Butterflies
Young butterflies,
Please, let your tender wings grow
Before you try to hit the skies
In an attempt to early fly
When the time is not right!
Scared to Hell you would be
If this dangerous endeavor
You would desperately try
When the time
Doesn't seem to be right!
Take my advice
Young butterflies,
I, the humble gardener
Who in my colorful garden
Have seen many like you
Trying to fly for the first time,
Defying the rules of gravity
When the time is not right!
Young butterflies,
Listen to the echo of the wind
And let Mother Nature
Takes its course!
While happily you welcome
The birth of a new sunrise
That would bring hope
To your tender life!
Young butterflies,
Let your wings grow
Until they are ready to flap
And you would be able to fly
And dance in the skies!
Please, young butterflies,
Listen to my humble advice!
Wishing you luck in your first flight!
©All Rights Reserved-2012
poem by Romeo Della Valle
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My Red Rose! What Can I Do for You?
Untimely death of flower buds
And some are bloom
Cannot see butterflies
Some they cannot hear
And communicate their innocent feelings too?
This poor bachelor gardener
Destined for watering with a holey bucket,
And you see the rickety shaking hands.
I see above through my teary eyes
Some passing clouds without any duties.
In the twilight sky flock of birds
Return to their roosts?
I go to my shack and jump to my dreamy spring bed
After a cheapest nightcap!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Spooning
You are the best wine I ever taste
the heady intoxication which envelopes me;
the candy mint on the bedroom pillow
the bubbles in my champagne
a soft giggle at midnight
the living photograph at my side
the sachet in the sheet drawer
the scent of jasmine at evening tide
where my senses reeling
you read my open book
eyes which fix me
music all around
there is only the sound
of our breathing
in gauzy dream-time
where souls merge
from the peace of it
planting a soft soul kiss
as your arms extend
Angel Light
reminding me
no matter how tough the times get
no matter how rough the day
the air we two breath at night
is rarified, healing
sweeping away
all that
with just one of your sly smiles
as I emerge
toothpaste mouth
which you dab and brush aside
Saying “Now come to bed.”
Deep sighs
and dreamy eyes
envelope us
as we leave
this planet;
another night.
cocooning and spooning
our way to the stars.
If you don't exist
how can I dream you better.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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