One early morning, when I was out in my garden,
I met a gorgeous Monarch butterfly dazzling.
I exclaimed...you are so bright and beaming,
will you help me paint my country with your wings so shining?
We have shades but they are all synthetic!!
I want your colours as they are organic and enduring.

Cyclones, floods and cataclysm have washed-out the beauty of my land..i sighed!
I shall paint your land with my elegant wings...he replied!!
Paint my land with the colours of the tricolour.

The top may be painted with bold saffron.

The pure white colour of yours may then flow through the heart of the land .

My friend, paint the final part with the soothing hue of green.

And at last, splash a colour of your choice to cover up all the dents and fungus that had cropped up in our hearts for so long.
These are our colours..my countrymen must not forget
We are one and we stand united!

The Monarch smilingly said, "I shall do what you say, but promise me to keep them the same as I start painting from today".🦋🦋🦋🦋
Bina Mukherjee

we all have a caterpillar somewhere inside
that spirit that wants, but it just can't decide
there are roadblocks and hurdles that get in the way
where will your caterpillar take you today
what will you be when the caterpillar selects
we all hope for the Monarch, DO we get, what we get

Brian Hill - 2020 # 119

you will thrive in your own cocoon—
legless arthropod wriggling out
of its leaved shell, crunching
on the stem of a marigold’s shrivel.
you crawl up the leaves like they’re
the steps of a winding staircase,
circling and circling to one day
step out of your cocoon.

you are your own skin—
a wing ripped in figure
eights of formative tearing.
at the bottom of a
wind-leaned green tower,
you are torn down as if starting all
over again, away from the pace of
a hundred other caterpillar’d creatures.

you are not quite a monarch butterfly,
not yet the zebra-patterned black and white,
but you bloom in the form of a familiar marigold, a daisy’d curve—
thriving as a flower, swaying and alive.
you must visit the filial leaves and trace
their veins gently.

soon you will thrive in your own cocoon;
as those plant’d seeds will
soon leave legless arthropods wriggling—
for how would a caterpillar’s cocoon wither
without your leaves crinkling beneath it?

He’s the father
the light that guide
the rain that shower
the land with hope

look up now
he is in the clouds above
whispering words of comfort
giving strength
to the people he loves

this blessed memory
lingers on
a gentle warmth
in all our hearts

As I took a walk outside,
I noticed something that caught my eye.
Twisted in the grass, ingrained with dirt,
What I saw made my heart hurt.

Monarch's wings I had found,
Which gave me feelings so profound.
An intense sadness, helplessness, fear,
Overcame me as I beheld these artifacts dear.

In death or life, they must have been torn,
These beautiful wings that the creature bore.
I picked them up and held them close,
These wings that symbolized what I feared the most-

Losing myself, my biggest part,
The part of my soul that is dearest to my heart.
And what for my memories, good and bad?
What if I couldn't remember anything; wouldn't that be sad?

The monarch's wings sit still on my dresser,
A reminder of my constant stressor,
Yet also comforting me just the same,
As I pass through each day, feeling slightly more brave.

I will love you gone. Fluttering heartbeats shake trees into homes. Planting feet in the disposible cottages I roam freely from. I love you Brown even though all I've ever known was Green. Once an alive thing now foraged. Barren as I am wingless, Cant turn away from lacking leaves. I will love you deathly even if you dont nourish me any longer. You return greener than before, but sap only so sweet can be found on a dead tree.