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Erin Suurkoivu Oct 2016
Your moth light is supposed to
sustain me.

I am told to discredit
my sun,

its fuel unnecessary,
yours enough.

What do shadows live on,
this light?

I am the keeper of your
caterpillar dreams.
Stephen James Mar 15
a perfect blue sky—
the caterpillar inches
across emerald leaf
a haiku
Alyssa Underwood Feb 2016
I'm kin to the caterpillar
hidden within seasonal sac
awaiting destined identity
tucked tightly into darkness
this secret, inscrutable place

Does it know it will become
a delicate creature of beauty?
Does it know it will soon fly?

I wonder...

do I?
Poetic T Jan 28
The caterpillar,
slowly eating at the steam
of the leaf..

Knowing that it will fall,
           but eating never the less.

Were an extinction level event,
               slowly eating away at
                                                     life.

And we will like the caterpillar fall...
What is the purpose of beauty without creatures to charm?
How can the moon awake passions without the black sky of the night?
Where would swallows be going without a winter making them fly?
Why are you afraid of the darkness if you experienced the light?

We are born in pain, because it is pain what proves us alive.
We must master the fall before we learn how to walk.
We can only accomplish success if we experienced the fail.
You are worried, I see, use this friend’s ear, let’s talk.

I hope you believe me, my friend, your worries will pass.
You will endure the pain, you will soon understand.
It can’t be always the same, it can’t be back as it was.
But your night will be over, making place to a brighter dawn.

The phoenix has risen from ashes infinite times.
The flood of punishment passed for resurgence of life.
Our ancestors strove struggles to bequeath us  some peace.
You can make the future brighter. Stand up! Do not abdicate!
Transformations can be painful, pain makes us grow, growth has a purpose. If you ever asked yourself: Why is this happening to me? Hopefully you'll get some relief understanding the metamorphosis of the caterpillars.  I used a metaphoric title to describe in one word what all of us go through at some point of our lives.
I.
And my hair became too much

It overtook the walls
made its way into the office on the sixth floor
and then hung
like a dripping willow’s branches
over the desks

By the time they thought to find me
I’d already been wrapped up in a cocoon of brown hair  
indistinguishable from the walls
that was now
also covered in the thick strands of undulated hair

II.
everything and everyone became consumed.


III.
In hairy chrysalis, the scissors uselessly
hung on some poor frantic pair of hands
forced into pupa

IV.
It was on the third day that the streets surrounding the corporate buildings were once again
populated with people, that a young woman in heels swore she heard a
faint choral singing coming from the 5th or 6th floor of a dreary grey building.


V.
everything cocooned
everyone consumed
all in pupa

VI.
During metamorphosis, a caterpillar digests itself leaving only behind imaginal discs
that shape it’s adult body.  

everything becomes consumed.
patty m  Jan 2018
The Gift
patty m Jan 2018
Beautiful poet, your lines pristine as new fallen snow,
drift now in hazy sky.  Posture not but sleep and dream
What was isn't, what is will change in future days. Scurry not rat-like forsaken; sip sweet nectar and breathe in the silken breeze. 
 Often told, thy enemy is self.  Plagued deep in sentiment, one can drown in the swill of depression.  Fear not, for the sun will shine again, Spring thaw releasing the land from Winter's hoary hand.  Dream on to budding flowers and the greenery that surrounds you along with bird sounds and the song of the babbling brook.  Leap high as golden carp chasing red umbrellas, deep down a smile is waiting to kiss your lips.  Spread your arms to all you see, embrace the glorious.  Be a child again chasing  sunbeams as horsetail clouds race across the sky.  Enjoy the magic of metamorphosis, that fuzzy caterpillar friend you talked to on a leaf, is someone else entirely, ethereal as it wings by.   We too change, learning from exposure the lessons of life.  How to overcome, and battle on, and when to rest, heaven blest.  We're not Gods, though made in the image of one, yet how much we accomplish.  One could lay down and die, thrash and cry, and what would that accomplish?  When wearied and beaten down I often wondered what I would miss if I were to give up.   Night is always the harbinger of fear, that looks less horrible in morning light.
What might you miss?  
I can't answer for you my friend, only for me.  I would have missed years and hours and minutes with my precious loved ones, three now gone, but never forgotten.  I'd have missed so much time with my beautiful daughter and I would never have learned that I could raise myself upon life's ladder.  Most of all I would  have missed the joy of my precious granddaughter Abby, now 23 months old, who is the hope of all my tomorrows.  None of this would have come to pass if I had given in when I felt forsaken.  
Each day is a beautiful gift, not to be taken for granted. 
Open the strings, experience the surprise.
Katelyn Billat Sep 2017
For when he appears,
My lungs fill with flowers 
And for a moment I 
Forget to breathe.



The slumberling caterpillar 
In my stomach
Performs metamorphosis
And flutters around
Trying to break free.



The rivers named veins
Fill and rush to my chest,
To my head and
I forget to think.



For when he smiles,
His eyes come alive,
And I wonder
Does he thinks of me this way.
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