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Matsuo Basho

The butterfly
perfuming its wings
fans the orchid

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What The White Owl Does Besides Flapping Its Wings

The white owl flaps its wings
Deep in the night
Hovers on the trees
I think the leaves
I hear the sparrows chirping
In the morning
Some dead feathers are falling

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Love and the butterfly

Love is like a butterfly
never here nor there
high or low
not really watching where to go.

A first love is like a butterfly
hatching out of a cocoon
we are amazed by the beauty
of this new feeling.

True love is like a butterfly
spreading its wings
and starting towards the sky
knowing that they want to have this forever.


Loosing love is like a butterfly
laying its eggs then flying away to die
leaving them in this big world all alone
knowing nothing familiar only home.

Wanting for love is like a butterfly
still as a caterpillar
wanting those wings
to be just like his friends.

Love is like a butterfly
Trying to spread its wing and fly
Love is like a butterfly
It can stay or it can die.


please rate or leave comments i do appretiate

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But to Wish the Butterfly and Its Flower, a Happy Bright Future

She was moving around like a butterfly
Our home plenty of joy always in supply
Gracious her looks and no creams did she apply
All natural, we thought it’s all a permanent ply

Her presence gave us all warmth and love
Our worries disappearing at the very sight of this dove
Never once she failed to get us that oil of clove
To help us all the teething problems solve

Her voice so sweet, save we have sugar
Her manners so gentle, save we have feather
Her touch so soothing, save we have softened leather
Her mood so enthusing, we were all in liquor

From where came the world wide connection
It connected the universe but our home in dissection
She got trapped in the web of ether borne words of affection
We had no clue of happenings through computer projection

She fell in love with a guy at last
Who took away her heart and she lost
All the reasoning and wisdom blown in blast
She surrendered to her love, which she says, is vast

We did not know her whereabouts for days fourteen
None of her friends told us and came out clean
To make us know what happened in between
At the end found out, after a search on web-site screen

She said she is now happily married and threaded
To a guy whom she came across in a studded
Website, and she claimed he is a great guy, and added
No one to be saddened as to no vice he is wedded

We cannot say a word at this juncture
As the butterfly flew off from us, striving to nurture
To a flower, of course with nectar, but of unknown nature
But to wish the butterfly and its flower, a happy bright future

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The Day And Night Become Me

Dancing to appease the gods of my own creation
I find myself lost within the appreciation of the moment
What could I have to resent? To regret?
When here and now and rising still I am one with the
Melody cast adrift from strumming strings in harmony?
The butterfly flaps its wings?
I cast shadows upon lighter plains with the rhythm electric and fueled,
Fueled alike the new sap rising to Apollo's kiss.

Towards to horizon wavering.
We are as princes amongst men, Titans upon the shoulders of the world
Bearing the weight of expectation only from ourselves.

The night is a corridor winding
The promise of dawn an un sung song
I am born within the day

The day is an open field
The promise of twilight an unknown bliss
I am born within the night

The day and night become me
And I am one within them
Speak wind of what you know I ask of thee?
Do you remember the child’s voice beckoning you to turn away the clouds of Winters retinue?

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A butterfly finds its way back

A butterfly finds its way back

It was a drift from the path
It took place sometime back
Because our heroine sensed a lack
In the taste of nectar in the flower of the park

To the same park this flock of butterflies
Used to come and enjoy the sweet and nice
Nectar in the red and blue poppies
And fly back with this sweetened hobby

It was more an excuse than a reason
For this drift, but a thought’s treason
To deviate and critically question
All that were followed in mindless unison

Our young colourful one with whistle
In her wings, over a time turned hostile
To this tradition and thought it futile
To be in the flock and went away for a while

Others in the group became worried
Wondering where she would have been carried
Was she in the insect flower got buried
Or was by ants after an injury curried

One fine morning suddenly the butterfly was sighted
And she joined the flock as if nothing got slighted
And told others she followed the path less lighted
For a flower who became with her less delighted

She expressed to join the flower of flock’s choice
And be ever with it without making any further noise
The flock has no words to say but to rejoice
The retrieval of the butterfly with her vouching voice

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Darkness Spreads Its Wings

Darkness spreads its wings
engulfs its Nucleus with fog
injecting Decay
an Erosion now brings
a foreboding Fear
slays the future, Death coming
for Anger has given birth.

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Tainted Wings

On wings of silver and gold, I soar
across the field of many lands
seeking out the love
I once held in my hands.
Like a newborn butterfly,
stretching its wings to fly
my love stretched her wings
and flew far away.
Now with newborn freedom
I to take to the sky and fly
searching for the love
I once held in my hand.
Above tempest and raging seas,
I search for her everywhere
hoping one day I’ll find
my angel with tainted wings.


17 October 2009

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A Reason to Smile Today

I saw a reason to smile today
when I saw a butterfly flutter its wings around my way.

I saw a reason to smile today,
when I heard the children laughing and playing
under the warm sun of May.

I saw a reason to smile today,
when I looked up and saw no clouds of gray.

But most of all,
I saw a reason to smile today,
when I saw you pass by, which completed my day.

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A Butterflys Life

A butterfly flutters
its wings of delight
in the soft gentel breeze
it flickers to life
its colours like rainbows
flash briefly for a day
in fields full of colours
they spread wings
and fly away
they hover in midflight
it finds its mate for life
and they become one
in the midsummer sun
then together they climb
dazzling, turning
Ecstasy of delight
climaxing on high
impregnating new life
then finding a leaf
to lay down their eggs
flutter drifting
from flower to leaf
exhausted from joining
they slowly flutter down
and glide together
with one final flight
and there they lay
both colours so bright
slowly fade into
Mother Natures
garden of life

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I'm Going Home

Her soul departed from this earth
But she lived life for all its worth
There was not a person that she could not touch
With her kind and gentle ways.
Everyone wished that she had stayed.

Have you ever noticed how a butterfly
catches your eye- and its beauty while it flies?
How this butterfly spreads its wings
And it touches each and every thing.
How its gracefulness fills the air
And takes away your thoughts and cares.

Like the butterfly who had spread its wings
She has done such beautiful things.
She is a free spirit who can now roam this earth
To help others from their birth.

She will be that gentle breeze kissing your face
At different times and in a different place.
She will be like the fragrance from the flowers
Growing from the ground
Touching without making a sound.

She has left the material things
Of this earth behind- to live in another
Place and another time.

Wave your hand in a gesture of hello
You will miss her-that much she knows.

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A sunset [ double Quintain (English and Sicilian) ]

While the red butterfly melts its wings
Within the light red poppy chain,
The pink gray cloud of the sunset rings
On the gray pink sky the light rays,
Seemingly thrown in a bloody pain.


The leaving sun abandons the sky
For a few hours and like crickets crawl,
The whispers of oak leaves mean good bye,
While the coming night is a dark haul,
Looking at the moon with a black eye.


The sun and the moon finds synergy,
Light becomes gray regolith of moon
With helium fusing energy,
Night makes moon looks like a big balloon
Or like swaddled in a big cocoon.


Much more, like thoughts enveloped in words
Or like souls carrying their divine love,
With feathers of light like Holy birds,
In the rain with drops of divine globes,
Falling down for giving love awards.


Like rain with drops of human spheres,
Pouring up to Him when they can hook
Or falling right down to disappear,
Reverse arch getting a killer look,
Trying to provide fragrance of fear.

Their waves are liquid and drain in sight
Of Earth to meet at infinity.
They are like dark rays in the pure light,
Light rays are arches for Trinity,
While dressed in wind seems to be the night.

Stars are candles and night lights them all,
The colors withdraw in the lost light.
In the black darkness they look so small.
The seeds of dream germinate for fight,
Becoming real for breaking their wall.

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Matsuo Basho

The butterfly

The butterfly is perfuming
It's wings in the scent
Of the orchid.

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The Birth Of The Yellow Butterfly

on the gumamela leaf
the small cocoon hangs
there for days and
you wait for the
usual surprise in this
garden

it wriggles out and
pulls itself from
a tight house

it holds itself at the
tip of the leaf and
gets a fan from
the wind and then
stretches itself
and spreads its
wings and finally
flies away

how beautiful
to see
the birth of another
yellow butterfly

regally erect and
flutters from flower
to flower like she
were a princess
in her green castle

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Dancing With The Butterfly

Have you ever seen a butterfly
Sweet, lively and colored bright
That dazzles the day and make the sun shy
With its gentle and gaily flight
Which to every petal pilgrimage
Kissing buds from page to page
And folding its wings momentarily to pray
Blessing the Lord for such a lovely day

Have you seen still, fairer than a sprite
A blessed one in her sweet delight
Whose bold smile will make the sun blush
And flowers musing all day, 'O what a rush! '
There, i see her dancing with a butterfly
Spraying beauty as they merry by and by! !

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The Shortest Moment That The Butterfly Tries To Speak

how many flutters of its wings is its lifetime?
not a hundred, this butterfly with blue shaking lines on its wings
some dots of black on the lower tip
some flaps of dust as you hold it.

we love to see it freely hovering from one flower to another
blending with its colors, it is not trying to hide anything
beautiful, it is showing itself, beautiful butterfly,

how gentle, soft to our hearts as we watch it
there is no sound of its wings and its graceful feeding on the nectars
then it rests on a leaf. we leave it there.

the wind last night was strong.
we see the leaf where it stayed on the pebbled ground.
there are no wings. there is no trace where the blue butterfly is.

how many flutters did that butterfly make?
such a brief moment, yet so beautiful
that is the message of the life of its lost wings.

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The Butterfly

as the wind sings, the trees dance in the most magnificent flows
and the river stream strenght its powerful turbid, down the river bank,
where the lilies and the stones jump to its tremendous joy of gladness

so sweet to see and feel, when all the birds flies beyond what we
can't reach, a blows of wind that echo there dances with the trees, spectacular beauty has it gain when melody, whisper in my ears,
that brings splendid songs of the butterfly

lives in the cocoon, miles a away, in an hour it hibernation in the distance shore, waiting the moment, when things get ripe and the
joy that it gives, will linger on in our naked eyes, for remembering is
knowing the future it takes

as the spirit it flies into the air, with its wings swing up, up in the sky, chanting the wild as it goes high, and as the sun shielded by the clouds, the cool breeze air fall into the cocoon nest, the wandering pupa, magical and gradually makes it easy way, turn into a very nice
larvae

a magic has made wonderful things to happen in a most unexpected
way, a moment to tell that everything has something to feel, a time in
our life to stand, to walk, to decide, to experience, to know and a time
to understand and accept that we are just a part of the whole sujourner of life with others cocoon

as it grows and turn into a mature butterfly, we can sing and swing the
last dance of the butterfly, beneath our very own cocoon, that moment
is a minute to wait, that once in our life time, we have experience of what is being a butterfly, who fly beyond this wonderful world we
see.

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Coming Out From The Cocoon

a yellow butterfly
comes out from
its cocoon
its feet clinging on a leaf
the soft wind blows
and its wings harden
for its maiden flight

as it blends to the
yellow daisies
we think it is gone

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You And The Butterfly

the butterfly measures
its life span
in just a very short moment
and it has enough

you measure yours
in years and years yet there is no moment
when you said
you have enough.

why? do tell me.

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The Black Bird Winging Its Way Inward

that early morning
the door opens and you
hear the rush of steps
going out of the house
the gate opens and
closes once again
and you
find yourself enclosed
in your freedom
of thought again
transforms into a black
bird
stretching its wings
to the breasts of dawn
and then
without so much hesitation

fly away again.

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Louisa May Alcott

I Write About The Butterfly

'I write about the butterfly,
It is a pretty thing;
And flies about like the birds,
But it does not sing.

'First it is a little grub,
And then it is a nice yellow cocoon,
And then the butterfly
Eats its way out soon.

'They live on dew and honey,
They do not have any hive,
They do not sting like wasps, and bees, and hornets,
And to be as good as they are we should strive.

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