Monday, November 21, 2005


I saw a butterfly today.
As I waited for life to start,
I watched it dance across the space
allotted by time.
It piroutted above the milling heads
of important individuals,
parading its exquisite hues.
Slowly, it floated up towards me and whispered,
"I try so hard for them to notice
even knowing they will all to soon forget."


Emem said...

This is what I absolutely love about poems... the way it's interpreted... different for each person for no two persons ever think alike or go through the same experiences... I don't know exactly what you meant by this poem because as I know... poets write from their heart and the true meanings of a literary piece may be hidden deep within the poet's heart... though from my perspective, I visualize a butterfly carefree and trying to make a mark upon the world yet with each try the butterfly is worried it will all go to waste in the end so that no one remembers of its brilliance... my thought is weird and I blame that on personal experiences of the mind lol... (on the comment you wrote on "The Fabricated Lives", as weird as it may sound I was referring to how people complicate their lives with problems they create themselves even though they could be living simple lives if they were only satisfied and I put it in a writer's perspective using language and how we fabricate our words because it was more personal to me since I am a writer. I would have used the analogy of "Oh what tangled weaves we web." but as you know I am not a weaver so it has no personal connection to me)I just thought I'd share that random thought with you because I needed a reason to write since I haven't written in a number of days now due to an immense amount of work to do for school. I can't wait to see you in less than two weeks from now because it has absolutely been forever!

AnthroPax said...

Hi there from the UK! I came accross your blog via Neocounter - the poems are great, keep it up!

blue rogue said...

A butterfly kissed me today.
And I know it will soon die.

But I will not forget.

That's what I like about poetry.
Beauty lasts.

chamki said...

pretty like glass