Butterflies! short poem

Photo by BryonLippincott

End of gold, and the clear sky
turns black from blue, begins to cry;
A pall of gloom as far my sight,
the brightest day, darker than night.

I pass my gaze over the awashed way,
brilliant colours all, all washed away;
No melange of paints under mushroom hoods,
not even a speck floating in the woods.

A passer-by stops, heeding me,
ask I, ‘where could the butterflies be?’
He smiles, ‘when it rains yet shines,
look way, way, beyond the pines.’

I wait, and wait, for the naked rain,
look up, the moment I see the twain;
And smile as millions of every-hued flies,
pour back in to take over the skies.

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Saurin Desai

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Saurin Desai’s first love led to a roaring affair that's ongoing now since nearly 30 years. At the innocent age of 8 he met a comic book that whacked him on the head (pun intended) and he fell heels-over-head, literally (pun not intended). But being commitment-phobic, he had a couple of dalliances: with engineering, jobs & businesses, before succumbing to the seduction of the writer's life and giving up everything to become lazier than he ever was. Through all of this he continued to rendezvous with poetry. And after one very, very, long pregnant pause, the poems that had owned him all these years recently agreed to stop possessing him and start haunting the world. And, here we are..."Solitude and Other Obsessions"
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Christopher S. Bunch

Properly formatted and very good use of wording. I liked how you switched things up in the line ‘Ask I, “Where could the butterflies be?”‘


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