I wrote this poem a few months ago, and then I forgot about it. I kept on writing and I opened my folders on the computer where the title of the document occasionally popped up, “Poems of a butterfly”, but it remained locked away. I was always busy with another writing project.
Today, however, I thought that it was time to let this butterfly fly. So, here she is, my trapped butterfly.
Butterfly, Freedom Cries
Butterfly,
Free, or is she?
Fluttering her wings, in her sight a flower, not far
Long yellow petals , framing a soft creamy heart
Where bees happily buzz and dart
Butterfly,
How she longs to join the frenzy
Her wings heave slightly,
Shiver in the breeze
The flower beckons
Awaits and summons
Butterfly,
Blue wings, adorned by a red eye
Majestically rise, braving the wind
Struggling to escape the silken trap, wanting to fly
In anticipation, the spider grins
Butterfly,
Silk threads entangle her feet
She twists and turns
While the spider watches her treat
Eight spindly legs move, with no effort on this silk trapeze
In fear, butterfly’s heart burns
Butterfly,
Trembles in fear
Life and death, so close, so near
Clinging to this brittle life
While death approaches, its fangs poised to strike
Butterfly,
Wings flutter in despair
The spider, so close, a terrifying glare
The eyes, firmly fixed on her
Legs reach out, poison ready to deter
Sweet butterfly, there is no way out
Silk spins, engulfs her feet,
Her wings flutter in defiance
Praying for a last moment reprieve
Silk flies, the spider falls, caught in a lucky alliance
Butterfly,
Free, or is she?
A silk thread flies in the breeze
That falls from the remnants of the web,
Destroyed by the bird that flees
A larger predator in the sky,
Having tossed the silk behind
And you, Butterfly
Free, yes, you are
Wings flap in the air
And take you to the flower, its petals bare
No longer waiting from afar
Go, Butterfly
Go, find your way
Your destination awaits
There is no deadly bite or sting
Go, my dear, release those beautiful wings
Poets can do incredible things. Poetry is magic. Reading poetry can get your imagination to fly over the sky or make you feel that you are on an incredible journey. Let´s pretend we make poetry of a Butterfly:
Butterfly,
Wings tremble in despair crawler,
so close, a scary glowThe eyes,
strongly chosen her legs to connect,
poisonous substance prepared to discourageWonderful butterfly,
there is no chance out silk rotates,
engulfs her feet,
Her wings tremble in defianceWishing a last-minute respite
Silk flies, the crawler drops,
captured in a fortunate partnership.
Well, this was perhaps not the very best poetry, but imagine.
This is a very beautiful piece. Poets can do incredible things. Poetry is magic. Reading poetry can get your imagination to fly over the sky or make you feel that you are on an incredible journey. Butterflies are beautiful tender creatures. This is how I see them. I wonder how some people manage to hurt them.
Thank you! I also love butterflies! They are such beautiful creatures.