Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Katlyn Orthman Jun 2020
Introspection
Inside inspection
Still spinning
From last nights rejection

Lurching
Illness perching
Mental *******
Why am I still searching?

Alone
Charged stone
Casting spells
I build a spiritual home

Bare
Blank stare
Skin stripped
Are you still there?

Whisper
Word twister
Speak tongues
Static on the radio transmitter

Silence
Internal violence
Ears bleeding
Mind quiet
Bina Mukherjee Jun 2020
One early morning, when I was out in my garden,
I met a gorgeous Monarch butterfly dazzling.
I exclaimed...you are so bright and beaming,
will you help me paint my country with your wings so shining?
We have shades but they are all synthetic!!
I want your colours as they are organic and enduring.

Cyclones, floods and cataclysm have washed-out the beauty of my land..i sighed!
I shall paint your land with my elegant wings...he replied!!
Paint my land with the colours of the tricolour.

The top may be painted with bold saffron.

The pure white colour of yours may then flow through the heart of the land .

My friend, paint the final part with the soothing hue of green.

And at last, splash a colour of your choice to cover up all the dents and fungus that had cropped up in our hearts for so long.
These are our colours..my countrymen must not forget
We are one and we stand united!

The Monarch smilingly said, "I shall do what you say, but promise me to keep them the same as I start painting from today".🦋🦋🦋🦋
Bina Mukherjee
Luna Jun 2020
Crimson Carnations teetering in the porch
Along with the humid air of summertime.

Melodious tweet of cuckoo's at dawn
Stomach filled with hibernated butterflies.

I never believed in love at first sight
Cross my heart and hope to die.

But looking at you for the first time
Your mysterious eyes made me believe all the myths.

And all my hibernated butterflies
You make them wonder
"How it feels to fly!".
Asif Iqbal Jun 2020
He doesn’t know why he did that,
He doesn’t know why he stabbed
The bluebird in his rib cage (1)
And let it pour crimson regret. (2)
He doesn’t know how he concealed
The congealed rubies within
And wore a borrowed smile
When his soul screamed, (3)
When that love struggled to strangle
With its choppy fingers (4)
And gave ghastly nightmares
Even in broad and bright daylight
And turned his mind
Into a hopeless battlefield
Soaked with tincture of iodine,
Where like a merciless enemy
He fought against his own self,
Where like a fatally wounded warrior
Tired of ceaseless fight
He craved for eternal sleep.
He doesn’t know why somewhere
A butterfly flapped its wings; (5)
He doesn’t know why he did that,
He doesn’t know why he laid his eyes on
Cecilia.
1.There's a bluebird in my heart
That wants to get out but I'm too tough
I say: "Stay in there
I'm not going to let anybody see"
___'Bluebird' by Charles Bukowski

2. "I tried to **** the pain
But only brought more
(So much more)
I lay dying
And I'm pouring, crimson regret, and betrayal"
___Tourniquet by Evanescence

3. " I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became The Scream"
___Edvard Munch

4. "By each at once her choppy finger laying
Upon her skinny lips: you should be women,
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret
That you are so."
___Macbeth Act 1 Scene III (line 44-47)

5. Butterfly effect: In chaos theory, the butterfly effect is the sensitive dependence on initial conditions in which a small change in one state of a deterministic nonlinear system can result in large differences in a later state.
Coleen Mzarriz May 2020
Where are you?

I am in the midst. Of nowhere and of mislaid sanity. I am frightened of who I am becoming into, plunged in Iliad.

Where the sequence of misfits and my torments combined, I am crucially breaking my existence. Broken, who am I pursuing? sparkling eyes, igniting palms they were showing tricks on me.

They were here watching me. They outgrow wings like a slipped angel descended from grace. Their eyes glittering into mine. Slowing ticking blasts, so I'd still have time to endure every bleeding and the state of my miserable hovel.

Where are you?

I am in the midst. Of being lost and being formed. I am in the pilgrim of my dreams — a wayfarer in the desert.

“Where the shore clashes and the stallion whimper at the sprinkle's coolness, I will get you there.”

I am a sightseer on the spot — where the faint could not be obtained as I stray and travel, I knew this is who I am developing into.

To discover you in the forsaken as a wayfarer in strange seasons. A tourist ahead of time, a butterfly in the coming age.

A warrior in the cage, a threat to them the shadows in the deceased.

“Where the shore clashes and the stallion whimper at the sprinkle's coolness, I will find you there.”

To meet you is to be lost.
To be created is to be miserable.
Being whole is to be broken.

And there, I found you.
Being lost means being found.
topacio May 2020
no need to be scared little girl
no need to fear your change.
the woman who you
need to become
is already inside you.
this is not your
transformation
this is your
reformation.
Jennifer May 2020
a delicate white rose,
sweet and lonely and
upon it, a butterfly
so fragile and light;
but when will it take flight?
when will it take flight?

ocean waves close to shore,
sand and water entwined
in loving embrace,
earthly beauty skin to skin;
but when will the tide go in?
when will the tide go in?

a passionate fire, spitting and
pouncing, rustled by a breeze,
kissed gently by the air,
the love between them devout;
but when will it die out?
when will it die out?
Liyanne May 2020
And just like a butterfly
You appreciate me when i'm there
Then forget i ever existed
Once I disappear
Im here
Ruheen May 2020
A butterfly is flying
But then it falls.
Because a butterfly
Can't fly for long
Without its wings,
Or is it its legs?
Its eyes.
Its colours.
Nevermind.
A butterfly is flying
But then it falls.
Because no one can fly
For long
If they're already
Gone.
Happy Mother's Day!
Next page