How poetic can you be? Write a short poem about what you see

Freedom of a Butterfly

Butterflies were meant to fly; they add color to the sky

Their beauty is such we forget their just bugs

Born into this world as unpretentious caterpillars

They go about life's business, no one notice, no one cares

It only when they spot their colorful wing

Do attention they get

Butterflies like us were meant to fly

When we as children grow and spout those wings of colors

That show our beauty, some people try and push, those whose colors are different, they’re not what others want to see

In the jar they try to put your beautiful individuality

No they don’t want you to be free; you’re set in stone by the gender role

That someone says was meant to be

No, this is just not so, just like butterflies were not meant to live in a jar

People need to shine, find their lives true roles

Just like butterflies we were meant to fly

On the wings of a butterfly her memories soar,

She watches her movements as her tears pour.

Focus. Focus on the flight forget your rage,

Let the butterfly in you fly from your cage.

© Cynthia Clark

Imagination In Abstraction!

A figure of an animal at first sight

In a maze-like color combination

An abstraction like a Rorschach ink blot

Where in light colored green- yellow and orange combination

An image of a big cat in furly hair

In my fragilie mind and imagination appeared

Only to realized a paper light weight

In his soft flapping wings, a butterfly

Fly's around looking for a flower bud

Where its nectar resides.

Metamorphosis

I started out as a cocoon

Then I became an ugly caterpillar;

crawling on leaves and branches.

One day something happened

and I became a butterfly.

Transition.

I can’t go back.

rub me the wrong way

too much

I'll lose all my magic dust

won't be able to fly

you rub me wrong

rub me raw

let me fly from you

ere magic isgone

WHISPERS TO THE ANGELS.

They say all prayers are heard by butterflies, who whisper it to the angels. When my buddy next to me, in the fox-hole we had been sharing, died, or I could say got 'blowed-up', a wild and strange thing did happen. Butterflies, first two, then five, then dozens landed on my brother-in-arms. I was afraid, I told these creatures so. I had heard the myth as well. Please, please, butterflies, let them know I am afraid. The bombs keep falling, then guns keep blazing the bullets red hot steel keeps burning and tearing everything in site. The butterflies all flew away. The bombs continued bombing, the bullets continued flying, the blood continued flowing. Hell, I don't fucking know Brother? Maybe they were moths. So I got two pennies and placed them over his eyes....

I felt so trapped,

So I decided to break free.

I had been gone so long,

I couldn't remember the last time I had a chance to breathe.

I spread my wings to fly,

Beyond the barrier lines.

You can't hold me down,

Because I'm to high.

I'm too far from that negativity.

The past I barely see.

The only person I need is me.

She's a painted lady

Full of beauty and grace

Vibrant colours upon her face

Highly sought a hunters prize

Lets hope and pray that she survives

Her gift to nature to lay more eggs to continue the cycle of beauty and gtace

Elusive and graceful she glides

erratic and silent from milkweed to aster

a delicate dance of tortoiseshell splendor

her life but a whisper of brilliance

Autumn hides this beautiful creature

Colours not to be seen

Hidden against a background of nature male or female

A slight flutter says by to this butterfly

Once known as Chris Alice