The candle's flame
flickering in its bowl,
flashes a butterfly's shadow
upon the wall.
Its patterned wings flutter.
The rim of the bowl
curves the butterfly's wings
making an arched span.
Simple in beauty, hovering on the wall,
complex in specifics,
I admire its beauty
until a gust of wind
extinguishes the butterfly's flight
(it's soul rises up, pours into the sky, and
disappears).
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2005
(171)
-
▼
February
(26)
- I did not appreciate heruntil I left.I did not kno...
- The Candle's Flame
- A shower in the summertime
- The pillar supportsits building,withstanding the t...
- fighting
- The mute sits under a treedrinking her tea asthe e...
- Running toward the blackened horizon,the sky is ni...
- Her white skin,pure,soft,lightens the night.Brilli...
- Tonight...
- Mother's Ashes
- a letter
- Tonight, my mind meandersthrough the pages of my s...
- Lying face down in the grass,my face is moist.Dew ...
- With ebony hair,black skin offsets tight, dark cur...
- Laurel, MT
- watching my mother in the morning
- poetry
- For Claire
- twelve
- The sun will rise over an array of houses, spreadi...
- words
- If I look closely, with my head pressed to the woo...
- The softness of every summer night, for the rest o...
- late one night
- Rain begins to fall. I hold her in my arms. The co...
- C'est la vie
-
▼
February
(26)
1 comment:
Stan,
This poem was lovely in its simplicity, evoking images of the shadow of the butterfly illuminated by a candle's flame. Much rich metaphor here.
Thank you for sharing your poety this way. It reveals a tender side of you.
Meredith
Post a Comment