Mark and I used to try to catch butterflies. We would take our jars out to the side yard and wait for long chunks of town. We would wait for the butterfly to light o to something. Then we could come behind and capture the butterfly,
J O'Neill
You give me those little razor-winged butterflies in my stomach. And yes, it is one of those cheesy, over-rated, over-used metaphors. But when you cup my face in your hands and your lips meet mine, it doesn’t feel cheesy, over-rated, or over-used. And really, who cares if it is? I’m overdue for a little light, a little sun. Maybe I’m overdue for someone like you.
They way I see it, he said, you don’t have a choice. Take it. Feel the power of the Butterfly knife in your palm. Now use it. It doesn’t matter on who. It could be used on a bystander in the mall, a shopper at Wal-Mart. Just get it done. Remember what you promised.
Once I was picking flowers for my grandmother. I came across a chrysalis under one of the leaves. I pulled of the stem and took it home. I placed it inside a shoe box and waited. Every day I checked to see if anything had changed. After 13 days, I something begin to emerge. First came the legs. Then a head appeared. Eventually there were wings. The butterfly crawled around the stem. I set a container inside the box with some sugar water in it. It drank and drank. I wanted to keep the butterfly forever. My mom convinced me that I should let it go so that others could enjoy its beauty. I did.
michele bain
He tries to be graceful as he splashes through the pool. He wants so badly to master the stroke he calls ‘mariposa’. One of those happy moments when the English and Spanish word coincide exactly. We both savour it, as he smiles at me, surrounded by blue chlorine, and dives under the water again.
Erica
papillon busted free though it took him ’til he was 53 and no one cared about the god damn inquiry… it was a sort of foggy morning when the news came. tonight they were gonna go find out if it was true. no use worrying about it now. worry is for women or maybe i’ve been reading too much hemingway. coffee’s too hot to drink now but there wasn’t any other time for coffee so i guess i’ll burn my mouth. too many meetings. too many objectives. why did people have to DO things? always in pursuit that’s me. or has been for too long. i feel like a bad jim thompson novel all crime noir, dime store doestoevsky, beat junkie hypocrite.
butterfly flying in the wind.
majestic and beautiful.
yet a weird sense of demeaning over empowerment
i don’t know why, but for you, beautiful strong butterfly
i will sacrifice my wings and let you fly
With single movement of his wings everything might collapse.
In other realms or dimensions it that might already not exist, his movement, even little could change reality. From prosperity and happiness to war and sadness. You never know, how little butterly could change the world.
I ran through the forest as fast as my little feet could carry me, chasing the butterflies as they soared freely through the air. Giggling as I skipped away, my mother chased after me, telling me to slow down. I didn’t listen. I rarely listened to her. Now I wish I could go back and change that. I wish I showed her how much I loved her while she was still around. Now I can only hope that she knows even if I did keep my silence. I hope that now, wherever she is, she is like a butterfly – free and carrying no burdens. I, however, will always carry the burden of never thanking her.
The simple flap of a butterfly’s wings can create thunder. The ephemeral beauty the wings unfurling compared to the lasting damage in the near or distant future; it’s all but worth it.
evan
Butterflies are amazing, my favorite are the big yellow and black ones. I have a friend who named her daughter butterfly. This was a hard one today…hahaha
That’s the pose that we did in yoga this morning, the butterfly, though it’s sometimes called the frog. Also “butterfly” in Japanese in the 50’s meant flitting from a man to man. I saw that phrase in the book “Baby-San” which my dad had. Boy, you don’t have much time to write this. I wonder what else to say…. I am “so” ready for spring and I like it when i can see the butterflies flitting about. I think I am done!
Imagine being a butterfly.
Flying wherever you wanted..
Getting to see the world…
Not having to worry about responsiblity,
or if someone is out there looking for you..
You just get to roam..
Free..
and…
Alive..
Stephanie
I like butterflies. I did the little butterfly-egg raising thing when I was little. Then I released them in my grandparent’s backyard.
The butterfly was so beautiful . . . as the sun reflected off it’s translucent wings . . it flitted effortlessly from flower to flower, flashes of red, orange and yellow catching the eye of my cute little puppy as he watched curiously…
Mark and I used to try to catch butterflies. We would take our jars out to the side yard and wait for long chunks of town. We would wait for the butterfly to light o to something. Then we could come behind and capture the butterfly,
You give me those little razor-winged butterflies in my stomach. And yes, it is one of those cheesy, over-rated, over-used metaphors. But when you cup my face in your hands and your lips meet mine, it doesn’t feel cheesy, over-rated, or over-used. And really, who cares if it is? I’m overdue for a little light, a little sun. Maybe I’m overdue for someone like you.
They way I see it, he said, you don’t have a choice. Take it. Feel the power of the Butterfly knife in your palm. Now use it. It doesn’t matter on who. It could be used on a bystander in the mall, a shopper at Wal-Mart. Just get it done. Remember what you promised.
Once I was picking flowers for my grandmother. I came across a chrysalis under one of the leaves. I pulled of the stem and took it home. I placed it inside a shoe box and waited. Every day I checked to see if anything had changed. After 13 days, I something begin to emerge. First came the legs. Then a head appeared. Eventually there were wings. The butterfly crawled around the stem. I set a container inside the box with some sugar water in it. It drank and drank. I wanted to keep the butterfly forever. My mom convinced me that I should let it go so that others could enjoy its beauty. I did.
He tries to be graceful as he splashes through the pool. He wants so badly to master the stroke he calls ‘mariposa’. One of those happy moments when the English and Spanish word coincide exactly. We both savour it, as he smiles at me, surrounded by blue chlorine, and dives under the water again.
papillon busted free though it took him ’til he was 53 and no one cared about the god damn inquiry… it was a sort of foggy morning when the news came. tonight they were gonna go find out if it was true. no use worrying about it now. worry is for women or maybe i’ve been reading too much hemingway. coffee’s too hot to drink now but there wasn’t any other time for coffee so i guess i’ll burn my mouth. too many meetings. too many objectives. why did people have to DO things? always in pursuit that’s me. or has been for too long. i feel like a bad jim thompson novel all crime noir, dime store doestoevsky, beat junkie hypocrite.
butterfly flying in the wind.
majestic and beautiful.
yet a weird sense of demeaning over empowerment
i don’t know why, but for you, beautiful strong butterfly
i will sacrifice my wings and let you fly
With single movement of his wings everything might collapse.
In other realms or dimensions it that might already not exist, his movement, even little could change reality. From prosperity and happiness to war and sadness. You never know, how little butterly could change the world.
I ran through the forest as fast as my little feet could carry me, chasing the butterflies as they soared freely through the air. Giggling as I skipped away, my mother chased after me, telling me to slow down. I didn’t listen. I rarely listened to her. Now I wish I could go back and change that. I wish I showed her how much I loved her while she was still around. Now I can only hope that she knows even if I did keep my silence. I hope that now, wherever she is, she is like a butterfly – free and carrying no burdens. I, however, will always carry the burden of never thanking her.
The warmth of the sun. The comfort of the breeze. The sight of the butterfly. Peace.
The simple flap of a butterfly’s wings can create thunder. The ephemeral beauty the wings unfurling compared to the lasting damage in the near or distant future; it’s all but worth it.
Butterflies are amazing, my favorite are the big yellow and black ones. I have a friend who named her daughter butterfly. This was a hard one today…hahaha
That’s the pose that we did in yoga this morning, the butterfly, though it’s sometimes called the frog. Also “butterfly” in Japanese in the 50’s meant flitting from a man to man. I saw that phrase in the book “Baby-San” which my dad had. Boy, you don’t have much time to write this. I wonder what else to say…. I am “so” ready for spring and I like it when i can see the butterflies flitting about. I think I am done!
Imagine being a butterfly.
Flying wherever you wanted..
Getting to see the world…
Not having to worry about responsiblity,
or if someone is out there looking for you..
You just get to roam..
Free..
and…
Alive..
I like butterflies. I did the little butterfly-egg raising thing when I was little. Then I released them in my grandparent’s backyard.
The butterfly was so beautiful . . . as the sun reflected off it’s translucent wings . . it flitted effortlessly from flower to flower, flashes of red, orange and yellow catching the eye of my cute little puppy as he watched curiously…