Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
MJL Apr 2019
Tibetan Brimstone butterflies wave wings madly at their paradise valley
In the beginning, before the beginning, and in the beginning
Their shaken snow globe makes them flutter in wild exuberance
As they reveal a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Peace, followed by chaos, and then by peace
Mother Luna's kaleidoscope of enlightenment
Protected by the hooded one
Holds all worlds and shakes the four seasons
Nothingness, creation, abiding, destruction
The wheel of time
Moves the wind as it’s blown by vast circles of water
Aqua marine is washed again by golden earth
And in the center, the great opal mountain song of La
Nature's peace
Beyond white leopard snows, icy winds, and empty husks of death
Butterflies are born again
Shambhala’s mindful beat opens passage for light through darkness
Poets squint and ride on wings toward the hidden sunset kingdom
Watching another world's Avalon alive beneath a blue moon
Insulated chrysalis of love for all seasons
A fisherman, a carpenter, a shepherd, a merchant, a caterpillar
Discover a lush, isolated, peach grove
Nosing thickly scented nectar and purple primrose honey
In the jade valley of the kings, queens, and beggars
They meditate under the Bodhi Tree
Deep brown ****** lines are carved into their soft olive skin
Smooth hands are made rough, and then smooth again
Young, then old, and then young once more
Wisdom setting beside Queen Spirit Mother of the West
Sharing a bowl of her rice milk in harmony
Being in the realm between man and nature as Kalachakra turns
For six years the caterpillar eats of fig
And then the wheel breaks for flight one last time
Radiating light as she sheds her glorious wings
Here, the snow globe explodes flying petals of wild exuberance
Revealing a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Transcending all, turning tears into the suns joyful rays
As they rise, then set, and then rise again
Nirvana
Beyond our Lost Horizon


© 2019 MJL
I loved the 1939 movie, Lost Horizon, and it's story of Shangri-La. It drove some interest in reading about Buddhism... Could we be butterflies reborn? How wonderful that would be... Young then old, then young again. All at once nature and man, one with our universe. Those who seek wisdom find salvation... The caterpillar here is a beggar who finds ascension. Cycles represent the wings flapping. There are also references to universal religious themes.
Tiara I S Mar 2019
Its spinning
Everything is spinning- nobody cares
Not a **** soul cares
That the pulsing blood people die for
Can only sustain so long

Don't you hear below your jaw
As it pounds so strong

You're disgusting
All of you disgust me
Carry your heads and walk
Trampling and leaving trails of blood
Soaked in the remnants of you
Shove everyone aside
Placing the brightest light on you
Until you need the transfusion
butterflies can drink blood to gain nutrients
arii nyx Mar 2019
after all the hardships i have endured within this life,
i have tried to fly,
but this baggage has become too heavy and i cannot seem to reach the sky .
the baggage, i cannot leave behind,
it has since clipped my wings and has left me unable to fly,
wondering why .
i thought i was supposed to grow into this beautiful butterfly .
The Calm Mar 2019
Do not date a caterpillar
helpless, curious, full of wonder and wow
Potential through the skies and promise of beautiful wings one day but now
It feeds on you, destroys you, leaves you with holes and then one day
after it's taken everything it needed from you, spread it's new wings and fly away.
some people only use you
ColtonC Mar 2019
Burning water
scars your skin.
Arched back, slipping
on the cold marble.
Trapped
like an animal, trying to

fly away.
A spark, a golden haze, a rainbow
as light meets water
Your prison
a glowing chrysalis.
The rush of

inspiration.
Flies fast
up, out of reach
It's wings
a vibrant orange
Rare and beautiful
It is

lost to you.
Slipping into darkness
The maze of the mind
A vast forest
Full of life, full of
dead ends.

You may catch a glimpse
of orange
through the mist.
Like a beggar, reach up with
grasping hands, desperate, feel
its touch, it burns
your frail fingers, and you
fall

into darkness
Blind as a beggar
Empty and cold, you wait
for the rush to return
the rush of wings
vibrant orange
rare and beautiful
butterfly.
Written 01/02/2019
My second poem, I'd love to know what you think it's about. Again, all feedback is appreciated, that's what I'm posting them for
Arisa Mar 2019
The phone is ringing
but I don't want to get out of bed.

I'm a caterpillar stuck in a cocoon.
It's not my time to flourish -
no one else is home.

So I guess I have no choice but to be the butterfly
Then crawl back into my casing once more.
I was feeling very lazy this morning.
Leo Janowick Mar 2019
What does a butterfly do? What is a butterfly like?
It takes long for her to be born and then she has the Freedom to fly and live just for one day before she dies. Likewise, I will fly around you and I will try to inspire you with my beauty before I fall on the cold ground and become a beautiful memory. The butterfly is not afraid to fly towards the dancing flames of a fire. She doesn't know the danger. She is just attracted by the fire's dance, its warmth and fierce. She sacrifices her one and only day of life so she can feel the warmth of those flames. She doesn't know that despite her sacrifice, the fire will still burn her. She doesn't know that when she offers her beauty to this dark twisted dance, it will make no difference. She is heading to her own destruction and yet she flies..
Toxic yeti Mar 2019
Has I enter the outside
With subzero temperatures
And blow a bubble
I excepted it
To freeze
Yet instead
It filled with
Different coloured butterflies.
Drunk on the nectar
Crinkled wings the butterfly still
One last sip savoured
Next page