"lepidoptera" poems
Melting Sarcoma
Cell Division
Warfare Conjugates a mission
And dares the fates to corrugate
Hurricanes of plated windows reflect as they shatter, their torment, drunken stupor invoked by habit.
They congregate as ashes, winnowing.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:23 PM UTC
In memory,the despised lepidoptera.
Wings ripped in three.
Shreds of vanished memory.
Flies on ripped silent wings no more.
Carried on a breeze of tears.
On wings so sore.
Only the breeze can fly.
Before the ripping of the wings.
Was once sweet symmetry.
A waste of years of plentiful wishes.
Wanton.
Risque.
In expectation excited.
Fed fire with fire.
Long since smouldered.
Flaming desire tragic.
The sorcery dispersed.
The heart of broken magic.
Should the hate crack on.
Smash not the crystal casket.
In which the lady sleeps.
Eternally weeps in silence.
Cost of lost love.
Mourns the cost.
Of love forgot.
While sweet angel sleeps!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 3:34 PM UTC
She holds his body by her bough,
where ghosts have hung him like a puppet.
Swinging slowly, shadow dancing
above a “sacred” cross of flame
Raven dark her shattered darling,
black as bruises, light as smoke.
Hollow spinning boy in blue jeans
held aloft by mother’s limb.
Swollen eyes and tongue extended
to taste the warm Biloxi rain
Suspended high enough to witness
where his mother lay in tears.
Mississippi lepidoptera.
Shedding chrysalis of sorrow.
Ascending far above the reach
of bayou dragons and men of prayer.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
You came in with the winter
Your voice, it seemed so small
Who knew you would leave me splintered
beaten, battered, taking the fall
You floated across the room
and it was you who I could barely grasp
I wanted so bad to hold you
to put my fingers around you, and clasp
You stared far off in the distance
Never once you even glanced
Across the room you floated
But across my mind, you danced
You eloquently fluttered
Too quick for me to seize
I wanted so bad to touch you
Your presence was like a breeze
Butterfly you have stung me
Butterfly you have left me cold
Lepidoptera, you have gone
Lepidoptera: I could not hold
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 4:51 AM UTC
The moth drawn
to her flame
to be burned
again and again
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
And even though I believe it,
Those words would never grace your ear
And even if I wanted it,
It's everything I fear.
If I could swear to you up and down,
by the moon and the stars and the sky
I would swear to you it's fake,
I've learned to hush those words with lullaby.
If I could keep denying it,
If only I could see beyond my eyes,
I still deny the mess I've made,
I would give you reasons for this lie.
If only I didn't just stand there,
Watching you slowly fade to black,
If only I could've stopped you,
Lepidoptera, I only want you back.
My dreams still keep you alive,
Full-bloom and full of force,
My concious mind couldn't fathom this,
And so you've gone without remorse.
I couldn't tell you what you wanted,
So you've gone and left me here,
Now I'm left with only your memory,
And that's everything I fear.
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 12:42 AM UTC
A Fancy Word For A Plug
That’s how it opens, from the end ripped off, the open end. Good bread, meh. The best bread I can find
here right now.
every afternoon someone finds everything they’ve thought they’ve ever needed in the trove of glances stalking their eyes stalking back at someone only
five minutes ago they may have called them, stranger, but brilliantly they have hope now, or the illusion I had thinking I’d be able to please every woman I’d ever take to bed
being fifteen years old can do that to someone who spends nights after high school smoking his father’s marijuana. It’s funny how glances and stares are all a single man needs to feel empowered by a woman
like he’s just captured his muse in a butterfly net. This is before he learns not all lepidoptera are butterflies, before he learns to transmit his rattling indecipherable hormones to her antennae, but never to touch the wings.
He is a stalker of wing-touches, with a fancy diet to guide him through the unforgivable minutes he tricks himself into thinking he can make anyone happy, he carves a topaz vase he hoards the few moments before any voice should trammel these moments whose preciousness isn’t foretold by nearly a decade.
Everyone wants to escape someone to move from one silence to another, they put on a show if only to escape everyone they ever went begging eyes from in a not so distant past.
I used to last eight or nine times a day in college, I made a collage of faces for a Freshman-studies course, as if there was no price too vain for me to expose my soaked and fleshy junk. That was until I started guilty catching stares, taking away a gaze from another’s gaze, becoming Casanova for a moment, then again it’s still hard to resist something I know six billion people are wanting to put inside or be put inside.
Jan 23, 2018
Jan 23, 2018 at 3:11 AM UTC
The butterfly slept on the arm with the sun.
She spent her life with the special one.
Her wings were red and edged with ebony black.
Delicate as lace.
She picked her companion carefully.
A Buddleia bush, a swarm of glory, a kaleidoscope, a flutter.
Alighted for the after noon,
Her life will fail her much to soon.
Short while spent in an unkind case.
Embryo unwrapped.
Locked in the doorway of the old woman's shed.
From nature at her harshest to nature at her glorious,
by means of metamorphosis.
ugly gave up beautiful, rare delicate exquisite expression, mere words cannot describe.
Escaped from her casing and so she fled.
Lovely Lepidoptera.
(C) LIVVI
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
some of the dryness will bleach from pithing
your noetic strands and the rest, a ****
prinked rind deluded.
i dip cupped hands into the lowlands, scraping
fractal mold flakes captioned, answers in light
crowded lenses.
cubic rift, that, i will toss adoration engines,
in the end, the goddess of substance will
not react.
not retrace, not the rift. mortaled caper,
inflection of the flats, grinded
reactions. grinding thoughts
grounded.
scribbled to-dos spreading forth, immurdered.
tokenized spice cabinets, enter rift
refuge. the caper collapses on molar-novas,
solar lepidoptera folding in your hair.
the sweat-between-us hive. the separatist mind.
salt mines alarm us, a subject deepened
between two gestures. have you the stratum
of intention?
germinal grains, embryonic clock tower -
mineral lies don timescales
tucked in our hereafter mattress.
i will deathlessly dry with a towel
unless i’m showering with it, a full commit
to the status kiss.
[after all that, you still love me,
in the bedlam trees the choral key,
the old oak door embroidery
are pieces of me scattered (spelled) naturally.]
Feb 26, 2021
Feb 26, 2021 at 12:11 PM UTC
She asked me how she had come to me
On a sunny afternoon,
She couldn’t remember anything,
Her memories had flown.
She looked in awe at the dress she wore
And the sparkles on her shoes,
‘I didn’t have any of these before,
But what have I got to lose?’
I had her in mind for a Faery Queen
Or maybe a party girl,
I hadn’t a plot to fit right then
But thought I’d give her a whirl.
She had such grace and a lovely face
So I thought she’d fit right in,
And later, plenty of colour for
My lepidoptera tin.
She flittered and fluttered about the field
While I got my butterfly net,
She’d probably still be fluttering
If I hadn’t caught her yet.
But that’s how I catch my characters
That I fit in every plot,
I chase them round and I bring them down
Whether they want, or not.
The women are always butterflies,
The men are usually moths,
I struggle to keep the women sweet
But sometimes they are Goths.
As long as they play their part so well
That the reader doesn’t twig,
That all my casts are butterflies,
The small parts and the big.
For villains I use the Death’s Head Moth
For his markings are so grim,
But the innocent girls in chiffon are
The first to let him in,
He’s mean and cunning, and not so sweet
As the ones he seeks to fool,
But I am only the writer, so
Their conflict is my gruel.
I need to go where the sun is bright
And they flutter in the breeze,
To hold my butterfly net upright
And pursue them through the trees.
Then one day soon in the afternoon
I shall write a plot that sings,
And catch me a lepidoptera,
The one with the brightest wings!
David Lewis Paget
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 3:23 AM UTC
Maybe in another life I will be something less painful than a human
Fewer feelings and emotions and ridiculous devotions
Perhaps a butterfly so I may sprout wings to go wherever I please
To escape when I want and live among the trees
To be free from the mortal bonds which bind me still
Being crushed by those who see me as a bent and dying daffodil
I am viewed as a damaged and battered being
Yet it seems as though my outside casing is the only thing people are seeing
My mind is quiet foggy but my folded stems are not painful
They just distort my appearance and for that I'm quiet thankful
Because if those who care were to ignore my imperfections
Then by chance I could avoid societal dissection
Let me return as a creature without sense or thought
Then I will never be caught thinking of what I used to be
I'll be free from the prospect that the world ruined me
I thought I was alone in this place of misery
But I was soon brought out and could see clearly, instantly
Love was the lens I needed for sight
But now like the butterfly, it has left to take flight
There once was a time when the world brought me joy
Until I found people who sadistically poison and destroy
Now I again must revert back to nature
In the end it is all I have left...
Sooner or later
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
Golden.
It crawls.
Overflowing the ***
through the railing’s gaps.
A single bud is born -
Clinging to its sheath-like leaves
as viridian fingers reach for the sun.
The day bleeds to night as stars shift.
Buds bursting from the vine, exploding in vibrant colour.
Reds, oranges, yellows, greens, azure, violet and indigo dresses pirouette;
Soaking up the elements surrounded by Lepidoptera fluttering on the breeze
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 6:28 PM UTC
Garden of flight
Blue skies above
Picket fence below
Peaceful breeze
Brings forth delight
Wild flowers blooming amour
Attracting feathered creatures
Vibrantly colored grandeur
Together many vibrant lepidoptera
Flying through~°•°○•°°•°•°
Close adoration you may
Even catch sight of a ladybug too
Effloresce burst into bloom
On this flowering stage~°•
Displaying petals of flourish
Bringing forth spring
Blossoms with rage°•
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 1:09 AM UTC