Tag Archives: death

Mariposa

Mariposa

 butterflydreams

I saw the butterfly
on the cold, grey cement.
At first I mistook it for a leaf,
spring green and spotted with decay.
But upon second glace,
I spied two slender feelers
And one beady black eye,
pleading for help.
I had to touch-
a velvety surprise.
Not like a leaf at all-
rubbery, rough or jagged,
But more like a babe’s bum-
powdered fresh and smooth:
fragile.

I peeled the butterfly
from the cold, grey cement.
Its guts, splattered by many hard soles,
had plastered it to the sidewalk.
I wondered how a creature of such beauty
had fallen under foot and heal,
Trod upon, and walked over
regardless of saintly stature:
abused.
Holding it in one hand
I kept if from harm- if only for a while.
With my other hand
I lit the butterfly ablaze-
consumed, consumed—one last
detriment.

I released the butterfly’s ashes
to the cold, grey cement.
No longer plastered to this earth
by guts and wings,
But free to fly
upon the winds of a
dream.

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Ode to My Precious

A Sonnet of love and sorrow:

Gollum

Oh my precious, my dear birthday present

In this moment I hold thee above,

After a long and arduous ascent,

I have returned to thee that I love.

You shine brighter than yonder yellow face;

Blind am I to this life, this world I hate:

Of fisssh, toothless, tasteless, leaving no trace.

“Gullum, Gullum.”  I have become of late.

Yet, I, Smeagol, promise never to leave.

Hard fought, I stand upon these rocky grounds.

Never again to part, never to grieve.

Death I have forsaken in your gold bounds.

Now, as you descend in the fire with me;

My precious, eternity will I have with thee.

The Family Picture Curse

family picture

Cherished are the moments when

We gathered in front of the photographer’s screen

Poised in mirth and aplomb,

Forever captured for endurance sake.

But heed this warning:

Long after the camera flashed,

And the film was developed,

After the “right” picture was chosen,

Picked up from the studio, and hung prominently on the wall,

The eternal clock was set into motion

Counting down the days and years when each and every person

Captured in this resplendent canvas

Will no longer have breath to praise it

Or eyes to behold the memories it encased.

Each beating heart, so full of life in this picture

Beats to this clock, but ever time moves on.

Eventually, hearts stop; lives fall short,

Returning to the dust from which it began.

Yet, just as the original authors intended

This picture, displayed on the living room wall,

Captured every family member’s likeness

To remind all that come before and after

Of that person’s form and feature.

Thus, one’s moments of happiness

Is also one’s living curse.

In the end, after the final stroke of the predetermined hour,

Those who smiled for the camera

Now Only smile from behind the canvas’s frame.