Poem: Butterfly, my soul being.
Magz Alden is a new connect, but like Elizabeth (Beth) Urabe, she is turning out to be my soul sister. There is something special about her poetry. Here is her piece of verse that started it all.
But free
Paper thin, precarious delicate, but free
Your soul whisper, incline my ear
Stillness
Fly
~Magz Alden
I jumped at this piece, for the poem was about my soul being — the butterfly. But it turned out quirky, as remarked by Magz.
Butter to the Soul
Butterfly is the shiny yellow being
that partakes the arrival of spring
out in the green meadows
hopping from bloom to bloom
A little thing of beauty
it’s wings make my heart flutter
My favorite being in nature
Why are they called butterflies
Where is the butter, I wonder
Or do they apply butter to our souls
Making us forget our tiny woes
And feel smooth like butter 🧈.
- Ashok Subramanian © 2023
The poem explored the etymology of ‘butter’. But I realized that it was just the quirkiness in the poem.
Priya Patel, the Prolific, got itchy seeing the quirkiness. But she had much more to offer than quirkiness, as you will discover.
Beneath the Willow Tree
I stood beneath a willow tree
draping the branches
like a furry cape of leaves
tight all around me
I fluttered around like a butterfly
dancing in the sunlight
playing with the shadows
reaching for the sky
on a magical flight
beneath the willow tree
The colors of me
blue, red, and sea foam green
yellow and pink
like rainbow ink
drinking laughter
from summer’s lips
highlighting precious moments
between the delicate sips
of the sunlight
beneath the willow tree
I was free from everything
free to be me
like a butterfly in a summer breeze
the colors of me
blue, red, and green
dancing beneath the willow tree
sipping laughter from summer’s lips …
~ Priya Patel, ©️ Jan 17,22 🕉
She personified a protagonist, who is a summer lover comparing herself with the butterflies who enjoy the warmth and dance in colorful resplendence of their wings.
Now, you might wonder what is next. We have this ping-pong poetry, like table tennis, every now and then. So, this was my response.
The Season called Spring
The freedom to flutter
Is the freedom to feel
Is the freedom to feed
The abundance of spring
The sprinkling of sunshine
The bunches of blooms
A time to savor
A time to smile
A time to sing
I am the butterfly
In the throes of happiness
In this season called spring.
Ashok Subramanian © 2023
The poem connects the butterfly to the season — but instead of summer, I chose spring. The spirit of the butterfly now extended from Priya’s summer to Ashok’s spring.
What is that connect summer, spring and butterflies? Flowers? We know that. Sunshine? Obviously. Priya chose a third connection. Here we go.
The butterfly and the Breeze
A soft rain washed over us
so soft, we almost missed the storm
For a few long moments
we drifted astray,
each lost in our fears and doubts;
each on a journey to understand
all the colors missing
between black and white;
all the colors missing between us
Somehow, even far apart
and struggling through waves,
you were always there beside me
and now I am swimming beside you
The soft swell and rise of the waves
playing with our exposed skins,
a butterfly and the breeze
rising and dipping
below the cool salty water
and you, my faithful breeze,
drinking in all the colors of me
~ Priya Patel 🕉
It was not a verse of nature, but there was a lover-like dalliance between the butterfly and the breeze.
I sighed. How good poetry can get from here? I still decided to write.
The Butterfly and the Breeze — Part 2
I am the butterfly
that danced in the breeze
A flutter here, a flutter there
With my wings wet
Drenched in the storm
My wings heavy
With little droplets of rain
I clung to the leaves
Swaying in the strong breeze
Shaking off the little drops
Like the leaves my wings
Fresh yet dry and free
In the storm
A tango with the leaves
In the fair weather
Dalliance with the flowers
I am the butterfly
that danced in the breeze
A flutter here, a flutter there.
~Ashok Subramanian © 2023
I understand that Priya is having a busy day, so this could still get extended. Till then, enjoy the butterfly verses.
~Ashok Subramanian
