Poetry competition CLOSED 16th January 2013 3:33am
WINNER
Echo (xxStitchxx)
Echo (xxStitchxx)
RUNNERS-UP:
Kou_Indigo
and Mourningcloak
Butterfly
For this to make any real sense I need to point out that the Maori word Purerehua means butterfly. Incidentally the Maori word Ataahua means beautiful.
The greeting question which commences this poem translates as: How are you my beautiful butterfly?
Tene te piha koe Purerehua Ataahua?
Your voice a crystal dream
Comes to me as I meander
Life can be anticipation
Of fingertips so tender
Your crooning hum I feel
Even as I dream
Of consuming you
In passion
All I am is alive
For the desire of you
To taste your depths
To write for you
And so purerehua
We are an ocean apart
Yet in the moments quite
Our music draws us close
For I play for you
Even in the hurt
And more I play for you
When joyously I set me free
When you sleep and dream
I am writing, playing, painting
Just for you Ataahua
Anonymous
Hakamike said:
For this to make any real sense I need to point out that the Maori word Purerehua means butterfly. Incidentally the Maori word Ataahua means beautiful.
The greeting question which commences this poem translates as: How are you my beautiful butterfly?
Tene te piha koe Purerehua Ataahua?
Your voice a crystal dream
Comes to me as I meander
Life can be anticipation
Of fingertips so tender
Your crooning hum I feel
Even as I dream
Of consuming you
In passion
All I am is alive
For the desire of you
To taste your depths
To write for you
And so purerehua
We are an ocean apart
Yet in the moments quite
Our music draws us close
For I play for you
Even in the hurt
And more I play for you
When joyously I set me free
When you sleep and dream
I am writing, playing, painting
Just for you Ataahua
Very lovely,
For this to make any real sense I need to point out that the Maori word Purerehua means butterfly. Incidentally the Maori word Ataahua means beautiful.
The greeting question which commences this poem translates as: How are you my beautiful butterfly?
Tene te piha koe Purerehua Ataahua?
Your voice a crystal dream
Comes to me as I meander
Life can be anticipation
Of fingertips so tender
Your crooning hum I feel
Even as I dream
Of consuming you
In passion
All I am is alive
For the desire of you
To taste your depths
To write for you
And so purerehua
We are an ocean apart
Yet in the moments quite
Our music draws us close
For I play for you
Even in the hurt
And more I play for you
When joyously I set me free
When you sleep and dream
I am writing, playing, painting
Just for you Ataahua
Very lovely,
Once death's butterfly came to me
Telling me to join it,
Seeing things I usually can't
I was amazed by deaths beauty
When the butterfly said goodbye,
I longed to be back by it's side
So when I went to sleep that night
I found it easier to smile
And in my dreams death was there,
And it said,
Come stay a while.
Telling me to join it,
Seeing things I usually can't
I was amazed by deaths beauty
When the butterfly said goodbye,
I longed to be back by it's side
So when I went to sleep that night
I found it easier to smile
And in my dreams death was there,
And it said,
Come stay a while.
Anonymous
Interestingly well put.
Thank you for your entry :)
Thank you for your entry :)
Echo said:
Once death's butterfly came to me
Telling me to join it,
Seeing things I usually can't
I was amazed by deaths beauty
When the butterfly said goodbye,
I longed to be back by it's side
So when I went to sleep that night
I found it easier to smile
And in my dreams death was there,
And it said,
Come stay a while.
My grandmother once told me that one is never more close to death than when one is asleep... a bit of dark philosophy that your poem reminded me of quite well. An interesting notion, and your poem's dark, haunting beauty reflects that notion perfectly.
Once death's butterfly came to me
Telling me to join it,
Seeing things I usually can't
I was amazed by deaths beauty
When the butterfly said goodbye,
I longed to be back by it's side
So when I went to sleep that night
I found it easier to smile
And in my dreams death was there,
And it said,
Come stay a while.
My grandmother once told me that one is never more close to death than when one is asleep... a bit of dark philosophy that your poem reminded me of quite well. An interesting notion, and your poem's dark, haunting beauty reflects that notion perfectly.
Sweet Jesus is weeping blood again
inside the old cathedral on main-street
Bishop Conlon rubs his hands together
because it won't be long
'till all the pews are full again
and he can finally buy that new Mercedes
he's been praying for
outside, a blushing bride smiles
when three butterflies
do a wedding dance, just for her eyes
before they float away
to cause more chaos
with each flap of their soft wings
ten thousand miles away
a child sings her mourning song
while she watches her town
float by her window.
inside the old cathedral on main-street
Bishop Conlon rubs his hands together
because it won't be long
'till all the pews are full again
and he can finally buy that new Mercedes
he's been praying for
outside, a blushing bride smiles
when three butterflies
do a wedding dance, just for her eyes
before they float away
to cause more chaos
with each flap of their soft wings
ten thousand miles away
a child sings her mourning song
while she watches her town
float by her window.
Anonymous
Hmm, nice write, thank you for joining :)
Blemished by life
Butterfly wings veil
Mother Nature’s secrets in
an innocent masquerade of beauty.
They used to perch on my dwindling wrists,
wings gloriously lucent;
when I was wide eyed with naivety.
Overtime the years struck as lightning,
and sunrays plundered down as hail
(as they always do).
Light influences never seem
to help navigate through the dark.
Have you observed that the corners of your
butterfly wings are cruelly curled in?
Have you noticed the vibrant bruises
patterning familiar fragile velvet skin?
An old woman, rocking, rocking,
rocking, in her chair;
glances across to me from dim corners.
On one diminishing wrist
lays a lifeless limp butterfly.
Blemished by life.
Butterfly wings veil
Mother Nature’s secrets in
an innocent masquerade of beauty.
They used to perch on my dwindling wrists,
wings gloriously lucent;
when I was wide eyed with naivety.
Overtime the years struck as lightning,
and sunrays plundered down as hail
(as they always do).
Light influences never seem
to help navigate through the dark.
Have you observed that the corners of your
butterfly wings are cruelly curled in?
Have you noticed the vibrant bruises
patterning familiar fragile velvet skin?
An old woman, rocking, rocking,
rocking, in her chair;
glances across to me from dim corners.
On one diminishing wrist
lays a lifeless limp butterfly.
Blemished by life.
I've lived a beautiful life.
Full of admiration.
Not the longest life.
But i'm ready for the end.
I've been compared to.
"As beautiful as me."
I wasn't always so colorful.
I'm willing to admit.
I've never asked for attention.
A modest soul am I.
Sometimes wished to be normal.
But here I am.
And as I sit on this branch,
Waiting just to die.
I flutter my wings and reflect.
On my life as a butterfly.
Full of admiration.
Not the longest life.
But i'm ready for the end.
I've been compared to.
"As beautiful as me."
I wasn't always so colorful.
I'm willing to admit.
I've never asked for attention.
A modest soul am I.
Sometimes wished to be normal.
But here I am.
And as I sit on this branch,
Waiting just to die.
I flutter my wings and reflect.
On my life as a butterfly.
Anonymous
Thank you both :)
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/76898.jpg
Flight Of The Flame
The flame is always there lingering in
the background of our souls…
Waiting for our minds to come in sync
with our true spirit within…
When this occurs the flame will take flight
like the grace of a butterfly freshly
out of it’s cocoon…
The flight of the flame is now in motion,
gracefully heading in all the right directions…
She placed me there as a reminder, that
faith in adversity will keep her at the top,
nothing will ever stop her flame from burning…
Not even her periodic monsoon of tears…
From Chrysalis To Butterfly
F ailing unseen within her cocoon
R oaming inside walls of lost value
O stracising herself from the world
M aimed with the loss of light she folds
C orrosive past chemistries bled her
H ideous reflections pulled her under
R ipping her skin as it scarred her soul
Y ielding to all that stole her worth
S he crystallised becoming redundant
A rmour-clad to protect the little left
L istlessly she gave herself to time
I ntending to one day resurface anew
S titched back together and healed over
T herapeutic intentions had salutary effects
O pening up many mind journey's of truth
B oundaries started to fall away
U niting her with the lost self worth
T ipping light into the places once dark
T ending the broken pieces of her perception
E rasing the misleading voices that marked
R efracting damaging images that haunt
F ixing the faulty implants of another's doing
L aid out and seeded deeply as they grew
Y esterday pulled out by the roots and left behind
She has yet to look in the mirror and see a butterfly~~
F ailing unseen within her cocoon
R oaming inside walls of lost value
O stracising herself from the world
M aimed with the loss of light she folds
C orrosive past chemistries bled her
H ideous reflections pulled her under
R ipping her skin as it scarred her soul
Y ielding to all that stole her worth
S he crystallised becoming redundant
A rmour-clad to protect the little left
L istlessly she gave herself to time
I ntending to one day resurface anew
S titched back together and healed over
T herapeutic intentions had salutary effects
O pening up many mind journey's of truth
B oundaries started to fall away
U niting her with the lost self worth
T ipping light into the places once dark
T ending the broken pieces of her perception
E rasing the misleading voices that marked
R efracting damaging images that haunt
F ixing the faulty implants of another's doing
L aid out and seeded deeply as they grew
Y esterday pulled out by the roots and left behind
She has yet to look in the mirror and see a butterfly~~
Anonymous
Very lovely Magdalena and CriticalMass ♥ :)
Butterflies in Camouflage
________________________
A thousand wings lay before me,
Turning to dust with fading colors,
Memories engraved in those tinted frames,
Reflecting the lives of our long gone brothers.
Symbols of happiness, freedom and change,
Fly fleetingly by our self shortened lives,
Bleeding for others against our will,
In life, we do what we must to survive.
We live because we are alive,
Though with different colors we are the same,
Speak to me about the definitions of a barbarian,
Whom kill their own kin on a false claim.
In hundreds and thousands, they fell like rain,
All in the name what they think important,
Have our kind not lived without them once before?
Or were they worth the lives that were paid?
What once was freedom,
What once was joy,
Was now playing Soldier as little children,
To being one and sleeping in soil.
Innocent or not,
Those powdered wings beat,
Till they're torn and worn out,
There is no option as to retreat.
A thousand wings lay before me,
Turning to dust with fading colors,
Memories engraved in those tinted frames,
Reflecting the lives of our long gone brothers.
________________________
A thousand wings lay before me,
Turning to dust with fading colors,
Memories engraved in those tinted frames,
Reflecting the lives of our long gone brothers.
Symbols of happiness, freedom and change,
Fly fleetingly by our self shortened lives,
Bleeding for others against our will,
In life, we do what we must to survive.
We live because we are alive,
Though with different colors we are the same,
Speak to me about the definitions of a barbarian,
Whom kill their own kin on a false claim.
In hundreds and thousands, they fell like rain,
All in the name what they think important,
Have our kind not lived without them once before?
Or were they worth the lives that were paid?
What once was freedom,
What once was joy,
Was now playing Soldier as little children,
To being one and sleeping in soil.
Innocent or not,
Those powdered wings beat,
Till they're torn and worn out,
There is no option as to retreat.
A thousand wings lay before me,
Turning to dust with fading colors,
Memories engraved in those tinted frames,
Reflecting the lives of our long gone brothers.
Anonymous
Lovely piece... :)
