Saturday, October 3, 2020

A Delirium Of Butterflies

 

~SCROLL DOWN FOR THE 55~

 



 

 A Delirium Of Butterflies

 

 

There will be

a delirium

of butterflies

after the fever wins,

when the sterile step is taken

under the star-masked void,

when the bounce hits dust a thousand years

unstirred by wind or small-handed rain,

 

then

 

in freefall

instead of white detritus

butterflies stagger up

owners of the impossible

hitting your protective suit

like a trauma of cotton candy

 

then

 

you have crossed the threshold

of sweetness, otherness

 

then

 

 what you call

your life

will lose its casing

will become

a fluttering

an awe

a delirium

of 

butterflies.

 

 October 2020






posted for 

The Sunday Muse



 

 

 

Images: So Long As You Wish it, © Liz Houston Fair Use

Unknown title, unknown author, via Sunday Muse  Fair Use

21 comments:

  1. The image of losing this life and the journey beyond is beautifully displayed in this poem Joy! Every line is magical and full of gorgeous imagery! I love it! So glad you joined us this week at the Muse my friend!

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    1. Thank you Carrie. Just glad I could find something.

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  2. Shortly after my mother died, while on a long walk far away from my city, I was surrounded (literally) by yellow butterflies. From that second forward, every time I see one I know it's Mother come to say hello, that everything will be ok, that she loves me, that she is still here. Your poem produced a few tears this morning.....

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    1. Glad if my effort spoke to you Helen. Thank you so much.

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  4. Let's try it without the spelling issues.

    This made me laugh a satisfied a-HA! when I read that ending. I especially love the cotton candy trauma. I am not sure what's been on your corn flakes lately but your last two poems have a certain je ne sais quoi that I absolutely love.

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    1. Thanks, dear friend. I have just been hitting the keys--what comes out is anyone's guess. ;_)

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    2. Aw shucks, she says,while turning out earthly delights. Btw I forgot to say that I adore that Liz Houston art!

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    3. Me, too. She used to be all over FB, but now not so much.

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  5. +100 to the whole thing, but I especially love the opening. "a delirium / of butterflies / after the fever wins" is perfect poetry, even if it didn't have such a present moment. And of course "small-handed rain" is unbeatable. e.e. would think that was terrific.

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  6. The wonder of your closing lines! Wow!

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  7. Love the contrast between the detritus and the emergence of the butterflies. Turning a slow settle in a swirl of awe and color is wonderful reveal.

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  8. the cycle, full-circle, poetically.

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  9. I feel the cycle of life, the gravity of loss and freedom. "When the fever wins" one might think the fever had the final word but, the delirium of butterflies offers hope that the soul continues on in a new form.

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  10. Writing as only you can...This is full of beauty and wings. Life has a cycle and we each are caught in its net. "like a trauma of cotton candy" Love that line. Perhaps I need to use it in the difficult nest my family is living in these days.

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  11. What a beautiful image, after crossing the threshold, "what you call/ your life/ will lose its casing/ will become/ a fluttering..."
    From one caterpillar to another I just love this!

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  12. 'Tis frosty and empyrean at once, delicate as death-flakes in a snow-globe becoming butterflies at the far end of it all. This shimmers. May they flitter in the dreams of our President. - Brendan

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  13. I grew up in the self-proclaimed "Butterfly Town, USA", which held a Monarch parade each fall. Lepidopterists count each year. Glyphosate has won its battle against (milk)weed.

    One hopes we may remember this casing, falling from our own eyes, before it is too late ~

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  14. "a delirium of butterflies" I love that!

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  15. this is just masterful, all of these poems. you have become an institution

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    1. Or I need to *be* in an institution. ;_) Thanks, Phillip. So good to see you.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats