No, often.
I wonder,
how do those butterflies
get inside my tummy?
How do they have the power
to lift me up
and let me float
in this dream
with their colourful wings inside me,
there were
your fingers there instead.

No, often.
I wonder,
how do their colourful wings
mix shades with one another
and then just…
leave me.
One by one.
Until I find myself empty
longing for that warm feeling,
just below my bellybutton.

– Chatty Owl –

50 Replies to “BUTTERFLIES”

  1. I just now started to wonder if nectar is the secret… Fluttering arrivals yearn for just a small sip… To feed… On the honeyed syrup…. That special batch you made just to attract… In turn they flap with pride, slowly.. so that each colour is seen and each micro breeze is felt. For those moments, awe rules all minds… Feelings of adoration overrule common sense, fills the your middle with thoughts only felt not often… Up until …The sweetness dries up… I am now just wondering if these butterflies have but one survival skill, distract their victims while absconding with their goodness, selfishly… Leaving just emptiness, as you describe… Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a butterfly for a long period of time… They must have flight plans .. perhaps with an owl.

    1. Wow. Look what a cat dragged in! Missed having your comments around.. They were always spot on and with a heartfelt emotion. Well…butterflies.. They have the tendency to not know which direction to fly to and when they flutter their beautiful wings, its suddenly the feeling of the breeze from their wings that becomes more important than the beauty of their appearance.. Dont you think?
      So happy to see you here. Dont be a stranger, please.

    2. Yeah.. the breeze dictates steps already started… Once felt, it’s too late… No net can corral the unknown… Empty is inevitable at that point… Despite, what looks to be a captainless flight pattern with buffoons at the bouncing helm, the butterfly is actually… Moving on… With expert ease… Looking for the next sweet thing… Just taking a more scenic route…

  2. Your voice, the chaperone of any man’s intrigue, pacify a chaotic mind. Both of sight and sound, your words enlighten.

  3. I think what separates your writing from others is that you write so that we may feel you. Many writers play it safe, faking authenticity, but you are the real deal.

    as readers, do

    I do,
    I feel you,
    from the inside out,
    with rhythm in every thought,
    rhapsody in every breath,
    wisdom in every word,
    and for a little while
    I can imagine our hearts,
    though distant,
    beating together,
    like a clock (tick tock)

    1. Omg! Look who’s here! Its been ages!!!!! How are you? How are your exhibitions going?! When are you in London?! πŸ™‚

    1. as with my sight, my hearing is impaired – could only pick up a few whispers – cest la vie – I’ll just have to settle for the owl voice I hear in my head

  4. My humble opinion:
    …butterflies comes and goes….it is their natural thing to do…they often do it…donΒ΄t ask yourself why…they just do!

  5. Yay, more spoken poetry! I loved the poems, you conveyed the mystery of the butterflies so well, teasing both the words themselves and the readers πŸ™‚

    1. Yes, I thought another one was long overdue. Butterflies are so fragile, it was just my mood for yesterday πŸ™‚

    1. This is such a flattering thing to say.. Thank you, my dear. There isnt a bigger pleasure for me than to know that my efforts are appreciated.

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