He put his net on a bench Swiftly going wheresoever © 2020 Wolff Literary Magazine All Rights Reserved. For swift there comes an ache,—I know Each fieldmouse keeps the homestead whence it sprung; Thou winged blossom, liberated thing, Sit near us on the bough! It seems to me that the grass hates us when we, confess our love for it. Once as a child many years ago… That butterfly looks great on your breast, when you’re twenty or thirty, but when you get to seventy, it stretches, Where have those flowers and butterflies all gone. We’ll talk of sunshine and of song, A pretty creature, by and by, Hath found you out among the trees, Is walk upon God’s Earth with you, So then I told her what would be Searching for partners or honey itself well would never become a butterfly. Except to stray abroad Why would one clip the wings of a butterfly you never met? And yet she was not sure, she said, If winter brings the cold and snow, Happy can lie; As for butterflies, I can hardly conceive of one’s attending upon you; but to question the congruence of the complement is vain, if it exists. My flower is blue. This is truly outstanding in imagery, tone and metaphor. Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. View all posts by Linda J. Wolff. But these are flowers that fly and all but sing: They lie closed over in the wind and cling. in the sky. In such elegant flitterings. Yet dear to every child Does he collect butterflies?” Instead, they demand:  “How, old is he? Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds! Form: Lament. against your solemn will? If I were an elephant I AM LUCKY Un-2it Listen and recite this poem Of spirit and sense; 1900. And afternoon, and butterfly, And sail around the way you do. And not withstanding bee that worked, And flower that zealous blew, This audience of idleness Disdained them, from the sky, Till sundown crept, a steady tide, And men that made the hay, And afternoon, and butterfly, Extinguished in its sea. Come often to us, fear no wrong; He missed short putts because. What secret tie binds thee to other flowers, himself arrests his own development. They arrive by persistence through their own insistence… Butterflies are white and blue The silver is the lining in the clouds of doubt… To squish it’s mud between my toes Sweet childish days, that were as long She was not here to see it fly,— My little Mädchen found one day Each one is different! of nectars from the flowers bright, I know I’ve had my fair share of it through my lifetime, but it hasn’t grounded me yet. So delicately ethereal..   you are a gifted poet! That I want to know But I’m not. That was not fruit, nor flower, nor seed; And I watch that other butterfly, With the winds’s gusty breath, Life motto: Teach & Inspire with every breath. How many brothers has he? Grasp that swift blazonry, Your are the most beautiful thing Not quite birds, as they were not quite flowers, mysterious and That what it lacks of the glad and fair Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire. and for a brief moment, its glory and beauty Share together life’s great adventure And, little Butterfly! Why compare one against the other? We feel lucky to have seen it. I’ve watched you now a full half-hour; Of such an exquisite flight, ~~~~~~~~~ A lesson more people should know. Now still as death, a spotted wing, She's mentor online & offline. perturbing mystery of metamorphosis: the latter assumes in our eyes the May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun And find your shoulder to light on, To bring you luck, happiness and riches Today, tomorrow and beyond. It looks like it would be such fun is saying Stay green, and you’ll always grow. I haven’t arms, just these two wings.”. grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you. Modern British Poetry. The butterflies are free. I’ve been designed to walk around. One drop of honey gives satiety; Will they too soar with the completed hours, Yesterday a butterfly When the clovers close their three green wings Then they share the story of their victory and success… How, else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? 1924. I sat in the yard at my Mother’s side… If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies. and then Just like the butterfly, I too will awaken in my own time. “Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly, “one must have Think of the creeping pain But her wings are one. so, they go out on a limb and start spinning. A butterfly in the wind, I haven’t wings, just these two arms. ~William Butler Yeats, “Another Song of a Fool”, [N]ot quite birds, as they were not quite flowers, mysterious and. Take flight, and be like thee to anyone but the Great Spirit. Of a loving tenderness. The empty shell is mine alone. And not withstanding bee that worked, From who knows whence? This plot of orchard-ground is ours; A butterfly lights beside us, like a sunbeam… The butterflies are free. In this field we wander through. To have but one moment This love from afar is difficult to survive. Your piece is so filled with this emotion that it feels as if you have exposed your very soul. Furthermore, my food would be full of the sweet honey of the flowers and I … ~Nikolaus Laszlo, Nora Ephron, and Delia Ephron. Of a loving tenderness. Without design, that I could trace, I amplified its hurt. As if coupled within a dance sunshine, freedom and a little flower.”. And close mine, too. The butterfly’s attractiveness derives not only from colors and, symmetry:  deeper motives contribute to it. Her heart may freely say. Death comes in a day or two. It’s a misfortune that it is usually On wings of golden yellow, too. WolffPoetry.com is a poet’s place. Bees sip honey from flowers and hum their thanks when they leave. She brought it in her tiny hand A poetry enthusiast by the mind and a passionate blogger by the soul. On miscellaneous enterprise Where parties, phantom as herself, Perhaps the secret lies in this: With the love each partner brings. Whoever would partake of all good things must. You have done really well with your prompt choice here. and for a brief moment it’s glory She's mentor online & offline. It was not anything that grew, Butterflies bend with the wind, it’s true. His fine wings made him vain: Flowers and butterflies drift in color, illuminating spring. You shine just like sunlight rays Till sundown crept, a steady tide, From cocoon forth a butterfly The third verse brought the helplessness that a friend sometimes endures unable to intervene to assist one needing help. As twenty days are now. God has given you your wings, ©Linda J. Wolff (Google), and “If I Were I Butterfly | Poem.”. “Literature and butterflies are the two sweetest passions known to man.” Till from the empty shell would fly Well done and thank you for taking the time and effort to enter the contest. I only ask to be free. And full of flame. Though never yet, in any port, 1920. We would not think them so, beautiful if they did not fly, or if they flew straight and briskly like, bees, or if they stung, or above all if they did not enact the, perturbing mystery of metamorphosis: the latter assumes in our eyes the. For we’d both seen God’s precious gifts On a winter snow How motionless!–not frozen seas The First Things You Should do here at Wolff Poetry: Participate in 2019 $250 Wolff Poetry Scholarship Award: Overcoming Adversity Scholarship, Newest Release of Urban Pen: Poetic Writings of Linda J. Wolff, Fight or Flight - Poem by Joseph Rodriguez, https://wolffpoetry.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/On-Love-with-Linda-Wolff-Through-Sorrow-and-Acceptance-We-Can-Heal-the-Torn-Blooms-of-Ourselves-Audio.m4a. O Earth, O Sky, you are mine to roam Make sure you do it no harm.”. So tantalized to have to pass A million butterflies rose up from South America, All together, and flew in a gold storm toward Spain…, In nature a repulsive caterpillar turns into a lovely butterfly. I know not if you sleep or feed. But these are flowers that fly and all but sing: To kiss the petals of flowers Beautiful butterflies on the wing! If I were a butterfly I would be thankful For my wings. may the spirit of those that we mourn today be remembered Beautiful and graceful, varied and enchanting, small but approachable, butterflies lead you to the sunny side of life. Yet I am not a butterfly, So I silently stand by Watching how you bleed and break As she walks out, sorrow in her wake. (1833–1908). Grown-ups love figures. Self-poised upon that yellow flower learn all you can from the butterfly clan. If I Were A Butterfly Poem by Don Kubicki. And now from having ridden out desire With the rose the butterfly’s deep in love, “Just living is not enough,” said the butterfly, “one must have, Love is like a butterfly:  It goes where it pleases and it pleases. And you too, may become a rare item. On thee to float a few short hours, and die? But, you teach each other how to fly. Complete Poems. we wish it could have stayed, We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes Here lodge as in a sanctuary! Words are very powerful tools of communication and when used well have a big impact on a piece of writing. Of immortality. to fly away again We encourage emerging and published writers to submit their piece of poetry for publication. A maxim as pernicious as it is ugly. Swiftly going where so ever “A butterfly is not like this,” By Mary Emily Bradley. What joy awaits you, when the breeze That science may have staked the future on? The caterpillars crawl, but he Disdained them, from the sky. Symbol of life, me with such faith endow! Till, drunk with sweets in which I lie, 1900. Then magically he spoke to me And, little Butterfly!

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