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Chony and Mony
Butterflies, yellow and blue
Loved flowers in hues

Of the two brothers
Chony, naughty and witty
Mony, naive with innocent charm

Living every moment
Flitting and sipping
Listening to the garden song

Changing colours
A chameleon in wait
The brothers knew its taste

As it rested its colour to blue
Chony knew it right away
Momma had taught to flit past that hue

Held Mony by it’s wing
Mony knew it was a danger sign
Opposite direction, was the call

The hungry chameleon
Rolled its eyes, surmised
Time to call it a day
Written on 23-03-2019
J J 1d
Trying to catch a slice of thought process;
Like capturing lightening in a jar
            Only to smell it's exhumes.

It's a blessed freedom, to release
  an experience; an imitation of the world,
or an imitation of how others wrote and expressed
    the world, and at constant conflict to lose it's voice.

It can be enjoyably difficult (the best hobbies
    usually are) or flow smooth as blood thru vein.
   Pulling blood from a stone and unexpectedly
    heaving rainbowy rainwater can be it's own virtue--

    An idea caught half undeveloped
Only to shed cocoon to join the white blankness
And forever tarnish it's history--

As is existence,although we're too modest to admit it.

Writing is a piece of you and you belong to the human race,
and doubleedged a sword as that certitude is,
Writing is a piece of you left to the world.
Writing is forever
This comes to more than what I post
The life I lived and the moments I lost
In bringing the dreams together
All my wishes flew like butterfly
Birds shedding their feather
I leave each hope behind
Now I just live and breathe in unrest
Because I have got no conquest
Now all I do is wait
Wait to see what is stored in my fate
To turn my life around.
Enas Sep 22
She was that stranger..

A stranger to her eyes..

A stranger in her mind..

It hurt, it really hurt,

but with time she loved it.

She was a stranger..forever-changing.

Always born living and dying,

like a leaf on a breeze..

always on the flow..

swirling and dancing in a sundress.

Like the moon,

she will always fade and glow.

She will always rise and break,

silently like a wave on the water surface.

She will always be reborn, and transform..

like a black butterfly.

She is life and she is death..

She is a black butterfly.
Enas Sep 22
This soul sleeps in metamorphosis; resting not for it is neither like rain nor snow; but air instilled in cloud. It is neither fire nor smoke; but the seamless light in wood. It is no more the earth worm, not yet the butterfly, only a silent soul in chrysalis; it told of a spiritual sublime and altruistic authinticity, of tender truths, breaking beginnings & endearing endings.
Navila Sep 21
Love yourself,
into a

Give yourself
a diamond skin

Fall into the
of your

Begin again.
katherine Sep 19
"I hear a song like lullaby
a flick that slips a butterfly
dust and small branches in her hair
sorrowful dream of Autumn Fae"
Katherine KSB
A poem for a painting
Th­is poem is self translated version of my Hindi language poem titled " कौन है वह" published in Hindi Literary Magazine 'Himprastha' in July 2010

­Who stitched the moon and the stars on the sky sheet?
Who filled the *** of the earth with such a huge ocean?

Who grew the colorful flowers in the courtyard garden?
Who brought different kinds of creatures in the forest?

From where the butterfly hovering on the flowers came?
From where the beetle flying around the roses came from?

Who taught the birds to twitter such sweet sound notes?
Who made the cuckoo sung a melodious song from neck?

Where the force of gravity in the earth did came from?
Where the water in the flowing rivers did came from?

Who inhabited so many living creatures in the deep sea?
Who made the birds flew even at the height of the sky?

Who gave the cuckoo a sweet and the crow a husky tone?
Who gave heat to the sun and a cold shade to the full moon?

Who gave light body to the ant and a heavy body to an elephant?
Who gave wisdom to the wise and much wealth to the greedy?

Who plated the mountain peaks with multiple layers of snow?
Who made the diamond mines in so much depths of the earth?

Who filled the clear waters in the chest of hard rocks?
Who induced the innocence in the small little children?

Who is he? How is he? who made such a beautiful world
He is GOD, self-proclaimed, who made the whole world

He has no end and has no beginning, he is omnipresent
All this is God's Illusion. This is Illusion of the Almighty

कौन है वह ?

अम्बर की चादर पर किसने टाँके चाँद सितारे
धरती की गागर में किसने भर डाला सागर

उपवन के आँगन में किसने रंग बिरंगे फूल उगाये
जंगल  के प्रांगण में किसने भांति भांति के प्राणी लाये

पुष्पों पर मंडराती तितली भला कहाँ से आयी
फूलों पर मंडराते भौरें भला कहाँ से आये

पक्षियों को कलरव गीत किसने है सिखलाया
कोयल के मधुर कंठ से किसने गीत गवाया

पृथ्वी में गुरुत्वाकर्षण का बल कहाँ से आया
नदियों की बहती धारा में जल कहाँ से आया

सागर की गहरायी में भी किसने जीव बसाये
अम्बर की ऊँचाई में भी किसने पंछी उड़ाये

किसने दी कोयल को मीठी, कौए को कर्कश वाणी
किसने दी सूरज को गर्मी और चन्दा को शीतल छाया

किसने दी चींटी को हल्की और हाथी को भारी काया
किसने दी ज्ञानी को बुद्धि और लोभी को भारी माया

पर्वत के शिखरों पर किसने हिम कि परत चढ़ाई
पृथ्वी कि गहराई में किसने हीरे कि खान बनाई

चट्टानों के सीने में किसने भर दिया निर्मल पानी
छोटे-प्यारे बच्चों में किसने भर दी नादानी

कौन है वह? कैसा है वह? जिसने सुन्दर जगत बनाया
वह तो प्रभु है, स्वयंभू है, जिसने सारा जगत बनाया

आदि न उसका, अंत न है, सर्वत्र वही तो छाया है
यह  तो  माया  है प्रभु की,  प्रभु  की   है यह सब माया

Let's Find Out, Who is HE?????
M C Sep 8
In lieu of being fake, I don a glass mask.
Observed, I am seen as a brittle basket case full of sass
blinded by the rays in which I bask.
A riddle whose answer you need not ask
because I'm already clasped behind your back.
That itching thought
of which is oft ignored; through your mind it may bore and crack.
If judged so, daft recognizes daft,
realizes life lays down sordid tracks.
If elegance is noticed be appreciative of the act.
Wings spread; flappable;
something else now, as a matter of fact.
m h John Sep 5
i am jealous of how
they are able to grow & find themselves
before i am able to
find enough comfort
to look in a mirror

i envy how
they can hide in a home
isolated by fear and danger
and still find the strength
to spread their colorful wings
to fly off into the moonlight

i treat their wings
as if i were you and they were me

i tear them apart
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