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Manpreet Gill Apr 29
Hot winds caused the charming petals to wilt,
Withered leaves slept under the dew quilt,
The sky looked red and fawn,
Rays of sorrow broke the dawn,
Icicles of trust started to melt,
Roses of love resembled a welt,
Cerulean oceans of wisdom turned black,
Light sleepers don’t like the busy track,
Life goes through phases like the moon,
Sky belongs to those who break the cocoon,
Graves have no room for grudges or vengeance,
Have no ill-feelings or hate, but only reverence.
As I sing a happy tune
Watching
The little Caterpillar
Cocoon,

Cocooning
Away in my
Back garden today
Come out of your cocoon
As things change today
It's beauty
So beautiful like a
Beautiful butterfly
Come out of
Your cocoon
Little Caterpillar
And
fly away soon.
Cocooning Away
Cocooning​, Cocooning
Little Caterpillar  
Hiding away Cocooning​ all day
Watching him cocoon
As I fade to grey,
Sleeping​ all day in his old oak tree,
I'm watching him cocoon
In my garden with me..
Cocooning Caterpillar
Stay with me in my
Beautiful home
Sweetheart stay with me
Cocoon with me
Never leaving me alone
Watching the birds
Sing from above
Watching the Caterpillar
Cocoon in the garden
Spinning around his
Old oak tree
Cocooning away
In my garden with me..
Cocooning Away
Bibhusita Mar 10
Winter has faded
It is spring
Flowers dance
and bees sing

I stay suspended
devoid of haste
No need to breathe
still and braced

Silence reigns
The cocoon awaits
For the wings and
For summers gates!
Brandon Conway Oct 2019
Falling, falling, falling,
                                  forever
or is this
                                     G
                                   N
                                  I
                           ­     T
                              A
                          ­   O
                            L
                          F
towar­ds a shimmer in the distance
like a wind that carries a dead leaf
whispering through the chimes
that fall upon deaf ears
as if the message was sent
and it just wasn't heard

No, this is f
                     a
                       l
off                    l
    the                  i
precipice  ­           n
                               g

as I watch the sky
march round in a funeral procession
of our history

F L O A T I N G
in this disorienting gravity

S E D U C I N G
in this magnetic propinquity

T E A R I N G
in this psychosomatic schism

every storm proceeds an epoch
                                              of pleasure
as if pleasure
                    is an
Grecian artifact
                        in the backdrop of Ovid

The caterpillar
                       of Like
                       of Love
                       of Hate
cocoons into insouciant
                                      vicissitudes

            ­                           Y.
                                    A
                        ­         W                                
but refuses to fly A
M C Sep 2019
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 Jun 2019
the butterfly cannot become whole
without being trapped in a cocoon
a flower cannot bloom
without water running down its face
a rainbow cannot become colorful
without going through the storm
a tree cannot become full
without finding its roots
and you cannot be you
until you have discovered yourself
from the trauma you have been through
trauam shows growth
shamamama Apr 2019
One drop of Dragon's breath
Stirs sleeper from dreamtime,

She wakes from the womb of creation
Where shadows dance into form
And reflections live in the past

Bound from silken fibers,
This ancient changeling,
Slowly creeps from cocoon.

Perching on branch
Impulses of flight and
A longing for air and nector
Breathe life into capillaries
And Rivulets newly knit.

Unfurling shape in patient sunlight,
Wings born of a great sleep
Reach into the light,
Waiting for droplets of life
To pulse in her being
Unveiling an opportunity
To fledge.

Where does her life begin and end?
She lives like a drop of water in a cloud.
Changing form from river to ocean
Evaporating to rise and fall
As snowflake on frozen pond

Where does beginning begin?
She  perches on tree of life
As sap flows life into her veins
Like a tree she waits.

Once Caterpiller
Once in darkness
Now life as Milkweed angel.
Butterflies are a beautiful mystery to me.  My latest understanding is when they go through metamorphosis, they literally turn into liquid to reform.This has me in awe!
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