Poem: Butterfly, my soul being.

Ashok Subramanian
4 min readJan 18, 2023

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.

Image by Petra from Pixabay

But free

Paper thin, precarious delicate, but free

Your soul whisper, incline my ear



~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



Ashok Subramanian

A poetic mind. Imagines characters, plots. Loves Philosophy, Literature and Science. Poetry-Short Stories-Novels- Poetry Reviews-Book Reviews