Butterfly poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best butterfly poems ever written. Read all poems about butterfly.
Brown and agile child, the sun which forms the fruit
And ripens the grain and twists the seaweed
Has made your happy body and your luminous eyes
And given your mouth the smile of water.
An ocean swims in every tear drop
A river rejoices in every drop of rain
A thunder talks in every heart beat
The wind laughs in every breath
'Arcturus' is his other name—
I'd rather call him 'Star.'
In a beautiful butterfly,
Your face comes so true to me.
Through a pretty butterfly
. « I shall remember while the light lasts
. And in the darkness I shall not forget »
. ['Non-Catholic' Cemetery, Rome: headstone 2515]
It was the twilight of the iguana:
From a rainbowing battlement,
a tongue like a javelin
In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
I went to turn the grass once after one
Who mowed it in the dew before the sun.
The dew was gone that made his blade so keen
Here on the Hard, you're welcome to pull up and stay;
there's a flat fee of a quid for parking all day.
And wandering over the dunes, who wouldn't die
Chuang Tzu in dream became a butterfly,
And the butterfly became Chuang Tzu at waking.
Which was the real—the butterfly or the man ?
Who can tell the end of the endless changes of things?
I like you calm, as if you were absent,
and you hear me far-off, and my voice does not touch you.
It seems that your eyelids have taken to flying:
it seems that a kiss has sealed up your mouth.
A little road not made of man,
Enabled of the eye,
Accessible to thill of bee,
Or cart of butterfly.
and I will not
No, I cannot love you less
Like the flower to the butterfly
Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frighted thee so oft, is fled or dead:
My fancies are fireflies, —
Specks of living light
twinkling in the dark.
You don’t have to go to the dale
To find her playing with a butterfly;
She would hide from you
As she is young and shy;
An omnibus across the bridge
Crawls like a yellow butterfly,
And, here and there a passer-by
Shows like a little restless midge.
A fuzzy fellow, without feet,
Yet doth exceeding run!
Chuang Tzu (pronounced shuwang zee) was an ancient Chinese philosopher…when one night a vivid dream appeared before his sleeping eyes…in his dream he was not Chuang Tzu anymore…he was a butterfly.
After experiencing a dreamworld where he flew from flower to flower…where he felt so innocent and free…he awoke only to find he was not that butterfly…instead he was Chuang Tzu.
We found her hanging from her chrysalis…one of those sad and unexpected things…a butterfly who died before she had the chance to spread her wings.
We're not sure why this particular monarch had to die…why her life was ended before she had the opportunity to fly…
an empty heart
a hollowed out heart
is a stillborn heart
life cycles heart if you let it like a butterfly
butterfly rested after coming out of chrysalis
pumps blood into wings in flight preparation
by Michael R. Burch
There once was a leopardess, Dot,
O butterfly, butterfly, soar up high
Flutter ur wings and touch the sky.
O butterfly, butterfly hover on the flowers
The butterfly without wings is transparent.
Are the butterfly's wings in a surrealistic temple?
Once there was a wolf who had decided there were no other wolves in all of the world for him,
A world that couldn't understand what he desired, all that he had wanted,
Imaging what was a perfect world and that he was the only one and what he imagined was just a film,
Who through the facade of love was always confused, disheartened, and haunted,
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