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Alex M May 2016
A caterpillar cannot see what he will become
Wandering aimlessly as a little insect that has no idea of the future
Eating leaves and enjoying life
Crawling about the hard ground
All over and around

One day he gets an urge
Bundles into a blanket of change
He sits and sleeps hibernating
Lonely in the everlasting darkness
Suddenly a crack

Looking out he sees the sun
Blinding light fills his eyes
He steps out to a world of change
Wings like the sail of a boat on his own back
He has felt change in himself forever more
Never to be the same
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
There was a caterpillar that had no friends
She feared she would be alone in the end
She had all, but given in

She stayed in a trees
And hid behind the leaves
Until she ate them, or there was a breeze

She had become so very fat
All the other insects made fun and spat
Out cruel words, she no longer wanted life and that was that

But before she could eat the poison leaf, along flew a hunny bee
"Hunny child you just dont see
That one day your gonna fly like me"

She looked at him in bewilderment
Surly his brain was a little bent
Wings for her would have to be heaven sent

But she decided to hold on a little longer
Just to prove he couldn't be wronger
That bee's words she would often ponder

The other insects still showed their hate
The more they said the more she ate
She knew they was right she'd never find a mate

So she made a cocoon, to hide herself within
So she no longer heard the words that could condemn
What awaited her would be hard to comprehend

The bee seen the cocoon, and sat and waited patiently
He wanted to be the very first to see
At what a beautiful creature she had came to be

When she emerged the sun hurt her eyes
Many a day had gone by
The sun seemed way to bright in the sky

But then she got a look at her wings, they where gray
"Why didn't God paint them, why are they this way"
At the bee in disgust she shouted, "You should of let me die that day"

"But my lovely one, you are now a creature of the night
And will fly by the enchanting moonlight
And see many many wonderful sights"

"Besides my hunny chid they're wings
You can now fly to the heavens and sing
Your point of view will now change on many things"

"God painted your wings gray
So in the bright of day
Against the tree bark you can lay
And safely sleep the day away"

"God only picks the strongest
To prowl in the moon lit darkness
He only picks the bravest
That at night can help with the loneliness"

The Moth bent her head in repentance
She couldn't even finish her sentence
For she realised in that instance
The bee was talking about her transcendence
i've been washing myself
in John Baptiste's fury
more precipitation
of our seasons
saturated by the come'n'go
wait and see
the white swans before we die
crashing naked bodies
in a ***** L.A.
swimming pool
we succumbed
to their glamorous scartissues
carving our egoic existence
that time when you
soaked your hate in
the summer sun
died over and over
like a fish jelly scattered
on the hot sand
we still remembered
our mother's womb
the development of
the caterpillar
butterflies only lived
in our stomach
reproduced on rusted
trains towards
divergent universes
towards
the infinite self.
Megan Rae Feb 2016
I'm fat.
I'm weird.
I'm annoying.
I'm not pretty.
I'm crazy.
I'm obsessive.
I'm a chatter-box.

I've stolen things.
I lie.
I've lied to my parents.
I've lied to my friends.
I've lied about myself.
I've lied to myself.

I'm pathetic.

I wish that I could be a butterfly,
just pop into a little cocoon and transform.
And come out a brand new creation.

The old me tossed into a recycling bin,
and changed into something better.

Maybe...
                               One Day.

Think about it.
No one really like caterpillars.

They're fat and fuzzy.. like me.

But....
What if I'm already a butterfly?

Maybe I'm still in my caterpillar form,
waiting for the right time to change,
But I'll change!

I won't be a leftover.
And I won't be forgotten.

People will really see me for once,
and I won't be ghosting through crowds.

But until that day...
I have to accept me, for me.
This is how I feel, and it's an edited version of a poem I wrote a few years back.
K Balachandran Jan 2016
This astonishingly smart work
by an enterprising bunch
of greedy caterpillars on this tree,
symbolizes sweet success itself
(only to them, not for others
I'll have to grudgingly accept)

Look how they devour with a vengeance,
every bit of the gentle greatness, one felt
in presence of the exhilarating fine green crown,
of the lovely tree that stood head held high,
smiling  in scorching sun, storm and rain,
and made me stand awe struck,
for a while the first time I passed
through the path under her thick canopy.

Success has avariciously eaten up glory
a fine creation of many seasons,
without any concern for those
who die for greatness, nothing else!

All that remains to see is this:
whether fragile winged butterflies,
charm personified in vivid colors,
would come out,of this greed?
Though they being a creatures of transience
makes it a bad bad bargain.
In the hot pursuit of success who cares for greatness?
some days, I really believe you liked me being locked inside your mind. where you can play among me with curiosity like a kid traps a caterpillar within the grip of their hand.
Robert C Howard Jul 2015
I doubt the humble caterpillar
has any premonition
of the glory that awaits
on her impending coronation day.  

Newly hatched, she meanders
over leaves and stalks, binging on the crawl,
in quest of the perfect hanging leaf.

Then suddenly metamorphosis
and silk is everywhere
wrapping her up like Nefertiti -
her insides churned into enzyme soup
a new essence in the making.

Shaking, writhing, a bold new self
is emerging deep within -
an orange and black-winged butterfly
waiting for that liberating hour
to shed her crumbling shell
and beat the air with new- found wings.

*July 10, 2015
Included in Unity Tree - Collected poems
pub. CreateSpace - Amazon.com
Just Melz Oct 2015
I've built this wall around myself
To shield my heart from the pain
Like the caterpillar, I hide
Until I'm finally free to find
A love to fly with me in the rain
grumpy thumb Oct 2015
Not every caterpillar
wants to become a moth or a butterfly.
Not every snowflake or drop of rain
wants to fall from the sky.
Not every petal of every flower
wants to tilt its face towards the sun.
Not every second of every day
wants to die the second it's begun.
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