Poem of the Day

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caterpillarsongimustwaitfortransformation

 

 

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #5

poetry-prompt-5June said: I liked that the photograph prompt had creatures on it and it inspired me to think of what it must be like for a caterpillar to change its mode of transport when it transforms. I placed this poem over a photograph of a butterfly. I wanted something about the right length so the photograph and words could balance.  It is fun making poem/photograph creations. For playfulness I spelt the word travel out at the end of each line.

I took this photograph at the Botanical Gardens.

As for the last line, my teenage son recently was studying a Dylan Thomas poem so I thought it would be fun to echo some of the lines.

‘Do not go gently into that good night.’

Poem of the Day

4 Comments

BUTTERFLY MOTHER

 

Dancing the tune of the breeze

She lifts her coat sleeves –

And freezes as if in prayer

To breed in the shady leaves;

Green confetti in air.

 

On the rib-case underneath –

A waxy seam of leaf,

Tiny eggs, colour of cream

Are stuck with butterfly paste.

Blue lady lifts as a dream,

Leaving them, to hatch or waste.

 

Who knows where she goes

Blue butterfly mother?

© Dianne Bates
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #40

poetry-prompt40

 

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

I am geometrically perfect
I am several hues of blue
I quiver on a perfect arc
My ovals three times two.

But wait, there is another
Oval, perched out on a limb
Is it meant to be my head
On a body oh, so slim?

My head, if that is what it is
Is a different bluish blue
Am I really me, have I fluttered have I danced
Or am I but an icon, something digitally enhanced?

Meg Mackey

  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #40

poetry-prompt40

Poem of the Day

2 Comments
BUTTERFLY MOTHER

 

Dancing the tune of the breeze

She lifts her coat sleeves –

And freezes as if in prayer

To breed in the shady leaves;

Green confetti in air.

 

On the rib-case underneath –

A waxy seam of leaf,

Tiny eggs, colour of cream

Are stuck with butterfly paste.

Blue lady lifts as a dream,

Leaving them, to hatch or waste.

 

Who knows where she goes

Blue butterfly mother?

© Dianne Bates

 

Poem of the Day

3 Comments

BUTTERFLY MOTHER

by Di Bates

Dancing the tune of the breeze
She lifts her coat sleeves –
And freezes as if in prayer
To breed in the shady leaves;
Green confetti in air.

On the rib-case underneath –
A waxy seam of leaf,
Tiny eggs, colour of cream
Are stuck with butterfly paste.
Blue lady lifts as a dream,
Leaving them, to hatch or waste.

Who knows where she goes
Blue butterfly mother?