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Lexie Rose Apr 2020
Bawling like clementine’s dripping citrus,
Pulp dribbling out our mouths; our first attempt to peel words
From our tongues an ache, perhaps trying to articulate a longing
For the Sunshine Hands that plucked us from that great tree
And peered at us with Celestial eyes.
“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - C.S. Lewis

This poem was inspired by this quote by C.S. Lewis. It has always resonated with me a lot. Whenever I read a beautiful poem, or scripture or see a beautiful painting or have a meaningful conversation, I have these moments of longing. I think it’s because beautiful things help me to feel closer to God, and I start to get an inkling of what I’ve been missing my whole life.
solfang Mar 2020
you told me
I smelled like butterflies;
perhaps they've escaped
from your stomach
and metamorphosed
into this fluttering feeling
you're having for me
So recently, someone told me I smelled like butterflies (I'm not kidding).
I guess they were just flustered and messed up flowers with butterflies.
Hannah Mar 2020
When they call it
butterflies,
what do they mean?
A small delicate creature
that lands on your arm
raising each hair one-by-one
as it travels towards your hand.
The nervous flutter in your stomach
that you can never escape
no matter how hard you try.
A light floating feeling
that raises your cheeks
and stops you
from coming back down.
I don’t know why they call it
butterflies.
All I know
is you give them
to me.
FullmoonFlower Mar 2020
Once a day I picture you
in front on me
feeling you next to me
letting you know that I care
how worthy you are
of simple happiness

Once a day I try to find
your eyes, but your hands
always finds me first
pulling me closer
like a tsunami

Once a day I feel that these
butterflies explode into fireworks
because of the way
you say my name

c Mar 2020
Lipstick butterflies float on the mirror’s heavy condensation
She is a vermillion explosion
Heavy colored lids and
Winged eyeliner as if
She too
Could fly
This is the glitz and glamour
of how to disappear
Katlyn Orthman Mar 2020
Crouching in tendrils of bright green grass
Two caterpillars set out on a daunting task
Hearts filled with hope to taste the fruit
Which had rendered so many full and moot

They slugged their way out beneath the sun
And laughed and talked of all they'd done
Distracted they never saw the bird coming
It swooped down much too close and sent them running

Once they were sure the bird was lost
They argued their plan and what it could cost
They were both still afraid the bird would come back
And this time that bird would precisely attack

But they knew in their hearts that they came so far
They couldn't turn back on their wishing star
So they hauled for the tree which was just in sight
When the bird swooped in and with all it's might

Bit a chunk from both caterpillars **** end
And with a mighty resurrection of power would send
Both caterpillars catapulting to the tree
Where both could feast and drink fruit mead

In a drunken stupor honey glazed thoughts soar
The caterpillars lost in slumber would snore
And in their sleep their body's tore
To be rebuilt with fine allure

They stretched out their legs, wings unfolded as well
Both stared in awe at the beauty, love spell
They leapt in the air and tested their wings
And rose to the sky to cheerfully sing

Two soaring butterflies dancing with the wind
They looked at each other and victoriously grinned
They had beat the bird and ate all their fruit
And may never had if they left that route
Emily Mar 2020
butterflies storm around me as i try to shoo them away
embarrassed and hoped you didn't see them trying to go your way
its been a while since we've talked.
but these feelings haven't left
they all came back, these unchanged feeling. all when i seen-
you again
Jac Feb 2020
my butterflies adored you;
attracted by the soft lingering scent
of the flower crown that ever so
graciously rested
on your pretty locks.
Audrey Feb 2020
you weren't ribbons or butterflies
you were steel wool and butcher's knives
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