High school English teacher in the state of Missouri.)
Watching A Butterfly Expire
(This poem is written in villanelle format; aside from that the primary element used if personification. The title is a work in progress; suggestions welcome)
Death is beautiful when it has wings
all dressed in butterfly attire
that matches the colors brought by autumn winds
Crimson-orange, veins of sable, and spots that whisper
of bronze adorn death's paper-delicate wings that tire.
Poised on a golden speckled autumn leaf, death is beautiful when it has wings.
Flutter stop, flutter stop, like a child's wind-up toy, butterfly life unwinds.
Open, close o-pen cl-ose go butterfly wings with flying desire,
whose wings match the colors brought by autumn winds.
Gracefully death pirouettes as choreographed by northerly winds.
Left-two-three, right-two-three, blow the costumed death in half spirals.
Death is beautiful when it has wings.
Death plays out slowly while in butterfly wings, and only the fortunate will witness
that golden leaf, all speckled brown and red, become the stage of balletic inspire-
ation. Leaves that fall and death's wings that cease match colors brought by autumn winds.
The dance has ended, the curtain drawn as life makes her final withdraw.
Death disrobes from its butterfly clothes, leaving to find new attire.
But death is never so beautuful than when it has wings
that match the colors brought by autumn winds.