Butterfly Poems
This is a collection of butterfly poems. If you have a poem to contribute, please contact us
Butterfly
Where are you going as you flutter-bye,
With your wonderfull colours, oh butterfly.
What can you taste, what can you see,
With your rugby shirt on, you big bumblebee,
Are you really happy, can you tell us a tale,
Slug with home, slow slippery snail.
Your always around, do you ever get lost,
Your annoying and scary you stinging bad wasp.
Why do you buzz, and fly at full throttle,
Your only a fly, you giant blue bottle.
Do you really eat soil, will you ever learn,
Slithery, slithery garden worm.
Why can you carry things heavy and giant,
Your only minute, you small little ant.
There all in our world, around us each day,
Crawling and flying, in there own special way,
We share this big place with every insect,
Living there lives, so show them respect.
Joff
Butterfly Wishes
Yesterday a butterfly
Came floating gently through the sky.
He soared up through the atmosphere
Then drifted close enough to hear.
I said, "I'd love to fly with you
And sail around the way you do.
It looks like it would be such fun
To fly up toward the summer sun.
But I have not your graceful charm.
I haven't wings, just these two arms.
I've been designed to walk around.
My human feet must touch the ground.
Then magically he spoke to me
and told me what his wish would be.
He said, "What I'd love most to do
Is walk upon God's Earth with you,
To squish it's mud between my toes
Or touch my finger to my nose.
I'd love just once to walk around
With human feet to touch the ground,
But I have not two legs that swing,
I haven't arms, just these two wings."
And so we went our separate ways
In wonder and surprise.
For we'd both seen God's precious gifts
Through someone else's eyes.
Author Unknown
To A Butterfly
I've watched you now a full half-hour,
Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
And, little Butterfly! indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! - not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
This plot of orchard-ground is ours;
My trees they are, my Sister's flowers;
Here rest your wing when they are weary;
Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
Come often to us, fear no wrong;
Sit near us on the bough!
We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
And summer days, when we were young;
Sweet childish days, that were as long
As twenty days are now.
Stay near me--do not take thy flight!
A little longer stay in sight!
Much converse do I find in thee,
Historian of my infancy!
Float near me; do not yet depart!
Dead times revive in thee:
Thou bring'st, gay creature as thou art!
A solemn image to my heart,
My father's family!
Oh! pleasant, pleasant were the days,
The time, when, in our childish plays,
My sister Emmeline and I
Together chased the butterfly!
A very hunter did I rush
Upon the prey:--with leaps and springs
I followed on from brake to bush;
But she, God love her, feared to brush
The dust from off its wings.
William Wordsworth
The Butterfly
The last, the very last,
So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears would sing against a white stone...
Such, such a yellow
Is carried lightly way up high
It went away I' m sure because it wished to
kiss the world goodbye.
For seven weeks I've lived in here,
Penned up inside this ghetto
but I have found my people here
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnut candles in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.
That butterfly was the last one,
Butterflies don't live in here,
In the ghetto.
Pavel Friedmann
Birth of a Butterfly
A mama butterfly lays all her eggs,
Out pops a caterpillar, crawling on its legs.
The caterpillar first is rather thin,
But then it eats till it bursts through its skin.
After growing nice and big,
The caterpillar climbs on a leaf or twig.
It makes a shell where it hangs inside,
Then the shell cracks, and the parts divide.
Inside the shell, a change was going on,
The form of the caterpillar now is gone.
When the shell opens, what comes out?
A beautiful butterfly fluttering about.
Author Unknown
TOUCHED BY A BUTTERFLY
Dear butterfly,
Majestic monarch of the sky,
holder of universal secrets and reasons why,
color my canvas, touch my heart before I die,
to live in joy, teach me how never to say good-bye.
As you flutter by, you hear me sigh,
things missed because I forgot to try,
on your serene beauty I can rely,
oh what celestial magic you do supply.
Once you did struggle to be free,
you turned your life around to show me,
amazing my angel how you heard my plea,
you've cocooned my mind so I can see.
Lets fly together both as one,
and sore beyond time, once upon,
our silken wings God has spun,
Souls entwined, our infinite journey has just begun.
Michael Levy
THE MAP
A mile high above the orb of blue and green below,
The King and Queen of the butterflies sat in state upon
Their flowery thrones and observed with pleasure and curiosity their world
Beneath.
To their surprise, a Chinese man, Zheng He,
Was seen to climb a wooded European hill, carrying a
Compass and map in his right hand.
The human date was 1417,the butterflies time cannot
Be told.
Then on that sparkling egg-blue day, those Monarchs
Who from southern Spain to Paradise once wended,sent
False Heath their chosen messenger, to translate herself
To the hills below, to seek out intruders and destroy.
So Zheng who`d walked four months
From Venice`s bazaars and left his vast ship in
A harbour there, with fine silks and rare caged creatures,
Brought his companion Map
And rested awhile beside a tumbling,hill-bound Hungarian stream.
Where blue butterflies and green aphids a-plenty played.
At last False Heath reflected upon her task and sovereigns command,
To rid the ancient hills of strange competitors.
Yet spying Map, False Heath fell instantly in love and decided to frustrate and falsify her rulers plans.
Now vowing,like her name,to deceive,she ascended and pretended
Zheng`s Map was actually simply parchment.
Her lie then became beneficial and her owners unaware, lulling Zheng into a
Deep and carefree sleep, stole Map away.
Their progeny lie long hidden in Aggtalek`s grassy
Hillocks,yet many seek to find them.
©Richard Muirhead.