Alice Miller

Rookie (03/14/95 / England)

All The Burning Butterflies - Poem by Alice Miller

Orange wings dance,
a vision of shattered beauty-
thick flames turn ever slowly,
red and orange and all colors hellish.

They all dance, drifters, soarers-
poets and dancers and artists
all the soaring people, but
descent is painful, burning and burning,
all gone in smoke.

The hawks soar, preying on sore
paper-like wings-
they all stop beating and rising,
they sink like a cool black stone.

The stones burns to thin ash's,
a last remnant of something bright-
they try to rise but only sink.
When all are gone, the hawks stop and
And they begin the slow, patient dance

Comments about All The Burning Butterflies by Alice Miller

  • (7/1/2008 11:22:00 PM)

    This is outstanding. What a vivid picture you have painted. I loved it. Best wishes. (Report)Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • (7/1/2008 9:09:00 PM)

    You're thirteen? ! ? ! ? Okay, I'm not being fair because I know teens have talent. This is amazing and so compelling, applicable to so many things. Wonderful job


    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 2 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Poem Edited: Tuesday, August 5, 2008

[Report Error]