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Papillon, is French for You
trochee

I. A dramatic metamorphosis
 1
   from green to black, reds, yellows and blues
 2
  and colors yet to be named,
 3
  conning the hieroglyphs of most birches and leaves.
 4
  You rise above chaos and conundrums
 5
  of the so-called social butterflies with finesse.
 6
 
 
  The skillfully pulverized hues whispered on your
 7
  cautiously carved wings of iridescence
 8
  foretells fibs of rebirth and cocoons -
 9
  a microcosm of life nonetheless.
 10
 
 
II. You were always a butterfly.
 11
    God's surviving nymph.
 12
    The beautiful scar on a flower. A muse.
 13
 
 
    And I was always a moth, soaking
 14
    the dust of death in my throat
 15
    when its time to embrace the flame
 16
    you lodged in me.
 17

27 Feb 08

Rated 10 (9.3) by 3 users.
Active (3): 10, 10, 10
Inactive (2): 8, 8

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Comments:

Hey thanks again.
 — trochee

beautiful. I love the language used. I have an extremely strong connection to butterflies, thus, this speaks to me very much so. I read it twice just to let it sink in!
 — Porcelain_Lo

thnks for reading my poem PLo ;)
 — trochee

floats nicely
 — poetbill

thanks for floating by uncle bill.
 — trochee

hi troch,
if this poem were only lines 11-17, you would have me
hook, line and sinker.  too much going on in the first half for me
to feel and really appreciate what you're saying.  do you know what i mean?

i can see you might have this purposely as two poems,
the two voices, but i am feeling sterile until i hear the passion that is exuded so powerfully in the latter half.
L's 14-17 are outstanding!  i love that!

the butterflies are popping out here these days.
=-)
 — jenakajoffer

It's not us! is it????
 — unknown

thanks jen. lets see if this works.
butterfly popping is a good sign. its rebirth. its hopeful.
 — trochee

absolutely
gorgeous
(as are you)
 — unknown

that works well troch,
i love this.
10.
 — jenakajoffer

a deralictic dumpedstered mattress --
green and black and red and yellow
and chartruse and sort of brown,
and willow green and somewhat
lavender -- writes the hiero-chopics
of bitches and lewds -- the so called
occupants of sealy central -- buttons
and -- do not remove! -- tags.

you were always a buttered toast,
dad's surviving crust -- the burnt-
scratch itchery of my lecherous
hunger. it's time to replace the loaf
with english muffins.
 — unknown

finally, a poet
 — unknown

=-)
 — unknown

hahaha... silly anonymous creatures at their best.
 — trochee

good cripes troch,
email me that second part,
it's still my favourite.

the first is a good intro
but it's too technical/wordy for me
when i just fall in love with the softness
of 11-17,
oh i'm just a big softie.
 — jenakajoffer

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