Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Summer May 2021
The dragonfly
that perches on your finger,
on the wall, at the doorstep,
like still life human history,
on the page, close to the vines,
balancing atop that blue teacup,
fanning steam

as time slips, whistles, rips
like stitches twisted, which
unravelled, like a wish
you made last summer
when horses snickered, reined by
steel knights sweating and kissing
gloved hands, ladies laughing
over earl grey tea and shipped silk,
the dragonfly danced upon
melancholic waters

what is skulking in the moist darkness
must come forth and answer
how one equates infinite and none,
vain, like history, snow, and gold,
before sung poetry from the old —
to live one’s life for something, you say,
is to live one’s life alone for something

what is repeated,
wars and manipulation,
mutual destruction, human reproduction,
drilling and penetrating,
with rhythm and with force,
Is intrinsically obscene,
the mechanics ancient and ******,
beastly brutal and brutally simple –
the human wheel of time

dawn broke
over churning waters, a cycle of
chalky, foamed flowers grew and died,
quivering is the white fish washed ashore
twitching, pulsating, then stilled

the dragonfly, sensing death,
skitters away
Raven Feels Apr 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I wrote that so long that I don't even remember what I meant anymore???---:


it is what it is

she used the words

traced myths on the board

then changed the tints

all over the place she wished the hints

a miraculous visit

been bet on the mere illicit

for hemispheres to plan new dragonflies bare naked fishes


                                                                                      ------ravenfeels
Betty Jan 2021
Fiery molten reds and flaming pink to make the birds weep in the trees

emerald greens and lapis blue to shame the sky,  so bright that we could never hope to see them with the human eye

Dragonflies are coloured with wonder
Dragonflies see colours that the rest of the world cannot hope to imagine
William Dec 2020
All hail the dragonfly, master of the sky.
Master of the swamp.
Master of it's prey, be it orange, white or grey.
Perhaps the common whitetail, zooming all about,would choose to dress in the blues and hues of the dasher and wallow in the clout.

Don't mistake him for the damselfly, he'd rather die, he wouldn't be seen like that.
Even through the magnificence of his multifaceted eye.

All that structural coloration makes him look like a Christmas decoration.

All hail the dragonfly, master of the sky.
Master of the swamp.
Master of it's prey, I'll hail it each and every day.
Betty Sep 2020
Skimming Dragonfly
Colourful spirit of light
Summertime with wings
Kryptonite Oct 2019
blue peonies
the dragonfly swifts in
pink lilies
landing behind the windowsill
green orchids
piercing screams the creature exhales
one last glance around the empty room
the dragonfly flies out
a pin drops
day 69
Next page