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Mark Wanless Dec 7
butterfly mind swarm
dropping gentle wisdom thoughts
creates tornados
kokoro Nov 5
Butterflies are beautiful.
Their painted wings attracted,
because we love them.
We love to look at them.

Spiders are hideous.
We hate their many legs.
we hate their big, creepy eyes.
So we push them.
But what is the real difference between a butterfly and a spider? They're both insects, they both crawl around. In fact, they both have many legs, they both have big creepy eyes. Why do we **** the spider and not the butterfly?
Gerry Sykes Nov 1
.                                                  Inch by inch,
                                            cruel word,
                                      indecision,
         ­                       pressure,
                        spin an avalanche
                    around my grubby life,
              cocooned, cold
          my sight
        goes
      black.
A crack, amber light bleeds
into my shrouding chrysalis.
      I struggle,
        tearing silk,
            escaping
                to smell the sun
                      taste its nectar
                            and
                          ­        see
                                        I am
                                              a
              ­                                      butterfly.
Roxy Oct 27
People get
butterflies
in their stomachs
from love.
My love was so immature and true,
that a single caterpillar
was eating its way
through my heart.
Morgan Howard Sep 11
A lowly caterpillar
Inching her way to a leaf
She spins her chrysalis
The sun rises and sets many times
But she does not see it
Because she has hidden herself away
In her cocoon
But finally
She begins to emerge
And she is no longer a lowly caterpillar
She has grown wings and can fly away
To a better reality
THE CHRYSALIS IS WORN
AND IS NO MORE
HAPPY JOURNEY LOVE!

♥DLR
07/07/2024
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬
A SENSE OF CHANGES/ TRANSFORMATION & ?
Heidi Franke Jun 16
Time bequeaths a tune
Folding like fading petals
Butterfly breezed by
Noting yellow roses faded petals leaving life and a butterfly breezed by for a bite
A gentle creature
eating nectar from flowers
then roams in our yard.
A poem requested by my son about butterfly
Vitæ May 22
Awake from a dream
dipped in sun fire,
is a caterpillar still
wrestling in my heart's
asylum—a chrysalis,
summoned by the
wilderness, is prying
itself open.

Where the field laid
bare in a pallor of cold,
is where spring begins
to overflow, like flowers
blooming from the deepest
nether—loving death is
outgrowing this world.

I wear a cloak of patience
over limitless energy,
shedding for dialogue
between potentialities,
inside me spins a thread
of great longing, but
around me, a great hope
is bursting at the seams.

A force spurs a descent
from the cave, from the
crumbling walls I am made.
What remains lifts the
curtains before a
show begins, where
in solitude I undress to
become a house of wings.

The orchard cradles
my smallness in a
concentrated blossom—
lighter than breath,
brighter than vision,
hidden among all there is,
a great wave inside a ripple.
To be delighted is to realise,
the world you fell into is
a vast sky.
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