#butterflys
In the quiet garden's heart,
A sudden spark, a work of art.
With wings of lace and velvet gold,
A story in the sun is told.
They do not speak, they do not stay,
But drift upon the breath of day.
From bloom to bloom, a silent flight,
A flicker in the morning light.
A secret kept in colors bright,
Before they vanish from our sight.
To find a place where shadows grow,
And only soft-winged wanderers go.
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 11:37 AM UTC
what if the butterfly never flapped its wings?
for fear of creating a tsunami,
i say **** the tsunami
flap your wings,
tsunamis will always be tsunamis and
a butterfly was made
to fly.
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 11:14 AM UTC
vivid colours do expand
cocooned are sisters
wings flutter elegantly
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
We havent spoken
These wall's are closing in
My love for you is my only hope
It feels as of I'm lost
But I know were I belong
I know that you love me
This love carries no illusion
Just truth
Well that's what it tells me
There is a feeling I get
It happens
Every time
You walk in the room
I fell for you hard
It paid off in the end my poems
They are for you
Remember iloveyou.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
I have flowers in my throat.
The rich and fertile caverns of my chest support a ebullient host nematocera, of which, breed in my abdomen, gnawing at my innards.
Swarms of adults congragate in my mind, the competition is fierce.
Attitudes of altrusim: a moist mire, slowing my step.
Try to say, anything, but that.
I'd rather attract the nausa of rhopalocera.
Their light hearted and short-lived whimsy. A far cry from this violent mob. Oh but the sob of emptiness when they all die at once.
A welcome boon, that, maybe we'll come to bloom. Clumsy and crooked, I was never able to make a play when all I'm pitched is a doorsa.
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 2:21 PM UTC
I dream of a day where days fade away into nothing but obscurity. The time flies faster than a bullet shot on a train heading south bound to florida.
I dream of a moment. Not a second long or a minute long but weeks long. Years long. The entirety of a life span.
I dream of a cloud. My empire in the sky. Where she and I can ride and fly and nothing matters but the love in her eyes.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
KILIG
An explosion of butterfly's;
Whenever I looketh, into earl Jane's eye's.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 6:01 PM UTC
Mi corazón ha estado lejos de ti
Diez mil millas se ha ido
Y me mata que
Linger tan cerca
He estado perdiendo
te gusta la locura
Oh, quiero acercarme
y dar ya
Cada parte de mí
Yo sólo quiero tocar y besar
Y deseo que yo pudiera estar con ustedes esta noche
Usted me da mariposas en el interior, en el interior y yo
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 2:49 AM UTC
I miss you,
I miss you so bad
It hurts to feel this way
I wish you were here
I wish I could see your face
I wish you could see me now
at my best
Every now and then
I think of you and butterfly's
Appear around me
It's a sign telling me that your still here
I feel it in the summer air
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 1:04 PM UTC
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
*Do you see a shattered girl,
because I've been trying to tell you people all year,*
I'm dying here,
*like maybe I was flying around to start with,
but on the inside I'm nothing more then a Moth,*
and you expect me to do the things butterfly's can do,
*when I can't do more then attempt to mimic there actions,
Following far behind while all the butterfly's migrate,*
but I can be miles away from my lover & still smell him from all this way,
*because I'm stuck behind butterfly's,
trying to find my way to a better home,*
and I will never get to a home where I can be excepted,
*every place I get to I am to be greeted with fly swatters,
when butterfly's get loving fingertips to land on as if they were tired,*
like they had to run from there death like me,
*and everyday I fight for my life,
and the butterfly's live theirs carelessly,*
so maybe I can dress in the outer shells of butterfly's that once were,
*become the thing all people wanted me to be,
stop smelling my lover from miles the part us,*
and let the world control me,
*But even when I've given everything I've had,
In, to this ****** idea of a plan of normalcy,*
just now you decide to say there may in fact be something wrong with me.
*and that when I cut my wing on rose bushes,
so maybe I can feel something better then what you've done to me,*
and you try to help me months almost a year after when I am close to death,
*by killing me three weeks,
before my life span is up,*
tell me why butterfly's got it so good and moths gotta have it so rough?
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
she says she cant feel anything
as she is cutting shapes of butterfly's into the paper thin
draws little rivers i cant swim
but she smiles and says thats fine
cause she likes me long as i don't talk too much
'specially bout her childhood mutt
she dragged that mutt every place
had really sad eyes
he's somewhere round here i'm sure
just shadow of his former selves
just like me
just like me
but she don't seem to mind
we sit in the regulation standard size sunlight window
and i watch her while she watches traffic crawl
the hospital grounds an expanse of grass
that someday we will someday go play upon
someday when her screaming doesn't hurt so much
when the nurses don't linger to catch
her childhood mutt is barking again, i can see it in her face
she breaks out the soap but it wont help
she trims out another butterfly
out of the paper thin
it just lay there echoing silently
like her tears
i try to kiss them away before visiting hours are over
but there are allways more shapes of butterfly's in the paper thin
drawing little rivers i cant swim
little rivers i can't swim
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
two butterflys chase eachother
across the summer pond
they are small fragile pieces of light and color
but they are woven into the summer song
that plays in her heart
watch them float on the warm air
watch them spin and turn in the daises
and climb the hill like lovers to the shelter of
the grand oak and its secret shade
its a song that flows along the silent exchange of smiles
its a song that shines in the night
lets you remember what you've dreamt can be true
that you began as a orphan
but now your part of another persons tale
lets find out what wonderful magic
is waiting for you
lets see where such a lovely summer day
leads your young questing heart
home in her arms
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 10:20 AM UTC