i see, in the black
studio cave of creativity.....

gangling, disinterested youth.
metamorph...
into mecurial, liquid madness...

fluid, upon the stage,
they fly, toward the lights.
moths, to a burning moon.

momentary flashes,
of. god's humour,
in flight across
the mechanical sun's
gelled brightness.

and then the curtain falls.
and they drift back,
into their former selves,
inarticalate, but secretly
smiling.

Words threaded are no better than dirt
If no one could feel the emotion of joy and hurt
If human heart metamorph into stones
How could a sparkling poem will hit home?

Seems poet dwell beneath the surface of the ground
Watering each other plants, praising each other sound
With instinct to prevent extinction, in order to continue to roam
But if we are on the underground, how could we hit home?

Doing both selfish and selfless acts
Photographer of fictions and facts
Every detail of life during white and gray
Hopefully, the images we captured will hit home someday

10/16/2015

Mysterious Aries

Butterflies were her favorite thing.
Her pillows had Monarchs in full winged flight
Needlepointed by an artful hand.

One perched on a perfume bottle’s cap
It’s crystal wings composed for rest.

Her jewelry box was full of them
In precious stones and colored glass
In every size and metal base.
If they all rose in magic flight
The air would shine with rainbows.
                               §
Today I found a tiny golden brooch,
Set with green and yellow stones
With tiny diamonds for the eyes.

It was dropped by someone rushing home
From entertainments where I do my work.
Will it be missed and my phone ring,
Or is this a message from my Mimi.

The minute that I saw it
She was in my mind
As gentle as the butterflies she loved.
She settled on the flower of my heart
And cocooned the little moth of me
And wrapped it up to metamorph
Into the unique butterfly I will be.
ljm

What life does
A butterfly see
Pretty black
Fleeting eyes

Butterfly vision
Unquenched love
For flower's colored vista
Though I expect

They often think
They are solely
Living a short life
Only eating and pooping

Defined as
Caterpillar forever
Or, does their mind
Metamorph also

Now, it's little brain
Like the angel's
Holds thought to fly
Released to drift free

Astonished to rise
Chasing flower's nectar
Until too dark to see
Or bloom unrevealed

Anyway, as it is
Seen by you and me
A soaring glory
Of handiwork divine

Absolutely
A life sublimed

©  2017 Jim Davis

.

On the waters edge of old Huron,
lays islands in the mist,
the horizon composed of opaque grey...

Tarnished oaks of spring
offer their ****** buds to rays of sunlight,
to unfurl life,
to sacrifice a selfless offering,
to blossom beauty,
metamorph into shade...

To wilt and wallow with the winds of autumn.
To solemnly parish with flakes of snow.
From birth to death may you serve a purpose...
grow with beauty,
and die with grace.
Be thankful for the day before us,
and the day we envietably fade...

Lines like a laxative for tongues,
The individual pieces become greater than its sum,  
Summer time therapy dialing up in increments,  
Wouldn't know the difference between the butterflies and chrysalis.
Syzygy in spirit as sympathy in the impetus,
Synergy  in serendipity makes symmetry seem ubiquitous.
Flummoxed, I fell face first flying into fellowship,  
Feeling fusion in the furrows of my fingertips,  
Figure this,  mistigris,  implement mirrors  for the synthesis,  
Taking root  in the underground,
This is censorship on stimulus.  
Kaizen from the get-go,
How did silence ever get gold?
Climate of the  biome discernible by  petrichor,
Some of my greatest allies are people I've never even met before.  
Mumpsimus with metaphors, metatron or metamorph,
A mess of Mesozoic memoirs  drowning in a reservoir,
Reserve my right to write a mire of a  message board,
Desire an empire of satire to conquest; explore,  
Buyers,  sellers,  best befores,  
Crying out to be adored,
The expiration estimation rivals rivals' primal repertoires.
Rhymes like mycelium,  climbing up the  parapets,  
Embrangled mosaics interceding abstract arabesque.

My varicose veins started to swell day by day, mother.
How do I make the pain go?

Well, periwinkles are anesthesia.
It will help you numb the pain
if you make sure to keep
the stench within.
So keep some in a bottle.
And son, from now on
Get a skindeep sunlight surgery.
And forget the tea.
I'll make you a cup of rain for the morning.
So get well soon, okay?
You better be.

Day by day
I metamorph
into a tree.

Through the journey, life arrives

Underwater – start their lives

Stable neither hot nor cold

Soft tiny eggs there to behold



Of such a time, lay vulnerable

For many eggs is tactical

Protection of the animal

Camouflaged with gravel



Frogs and toad, amphibian class

Eggs that float in jelly mass

From tadpole to a metamorph

The stages of which to transform



The brooding pouch of the seahorse

Protection from an outside force

Hatch of species, tiny fry

Plankton their to multiply



Yolk sac feed, young fish growing

Strengthened muscles for swimming

Insect eggs and prawn relish

Hunting groups for bigger fish



Gliding through in forward motion

Darker depths of the ocean

Water wonders plentiful

Such vertebrates are wonderful



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

I come in the quiet to you in the dark
I come with ennui to you in my heart
I come to you soul
I yearn to be your whole

Let loose earthly tether, simply open
Let loose heady vapor, take flight again
Let loose clearly clear, flow freely
Let me be yours truely

Begin in the center open to oneness
Approach the blossoming flower
Metamorph the self color to color
Cycle the void to totality

Synthesize concatenate and verbalize
Magnanimate, bombasticize, ennunciate
obfuscate, shadow, hide
but touch, feel, and show

Morrow's dawn
when I'm reborn,
the well known lad
will be long gone,
there aren't many
who'll mourn,
those who will
shouldn't for one,
the metamorph
will be who they
all should've known.
Blessing or a curse
I'll take it with
in all my lives,
the eternal longing
will be one of my wives
except even death
won't do us part.

Hello
PeOple of the once
EThereal metamoRph
Your moment has now
arrived; PERiwinkle
adornments on your
china on display,
SPecific to table placements
ICarian silhouettes on
placemats, UnIcorn-lined
doilies in conTrast Yell
out: 'perspicacity.'
Your aid and companionability
see us through it all.

AUTUMNAL

well into a year, we watch as all the colors
begin to clash and meld metamorph itself
into something more or less an original
declaring look at me, as all around we begin
to feel the change, and the winds begin to shift
taking a crisp turn, further more, lest we forget
it's noticeably dark; with the sun  in retreat; a little
more each day as the seasonal set stage, we once again
prepare ourselves for further year end decline, still
we will remind; to look for the early signs  of what's to come
until then we will prepare ourselves  to hibernate
through the winter,  if need be only waking  as the sun
reaches peak, hence retreat, we watch as the ice upon the
ponds and leaves, will give up, draw back, disappears

by Michael Perry

If it was to imitate it would
be choosing to mutate into
a shapeshifting metamorph
for the purpose of demonic
sorcery casting spells, thus
confusing the uninformed
into the transformed fiction
of their consenting beliefs.


ps.

This is the Covid long form.