All Comments on 'A Butterfly Dies'

Simply beautiful

Very touching remembrance.

I respect the genuine feelings which inspired the writer, and I am certainly sorry for the circumstances which caused them. Yet, I am confused. The two loses are very different in nature. Untimely death of a friend is a terrible loss with almost no other type of experience to compare it with. A friend who literally leaves on the other hand (for ever? for a while?) could certainly be a sad experience, but to be honest, it does not stand in the same category as the first one. Why is it important? Because the emotional impact, at least for me, is quite different in each case. For example, I can see the image : “a light is gone /from the world /a star descends /into oblivion” as pertaining to the death of Chelle, but it strikes me as a bit over the top if the image alludes to Heidi , the friend who just left.

My second source of confusion was with the use of the descriptive language throughout the poem. I found it hard to follow in terms of coherence and direction. I found one image which draws from the super natural (the fairy), while the rest were all from the natural world, and while each image was quite strong, as a whole – I could not tell why you put one in the beginning and another later. I mean, would it make a difference if the actual order of the images (light; star; butterfly; rose; candle; dolphin fairy; acorn) would have been different? The effect was that rather than being able to focus on the emotional impact of an image or images which are coherent, I felt jerked in all directions.

My comments are aimed at being constructive and sincere. In no way do I intend to diminish the emotions or the talent of the writer.

is another man's understanding, I liked this poem best of the three posted today. The poem is not only clear it is filled with great topic within itself. I for one thought this poem was perfect.

Poets often write about death and sadness--each poet at a different skill level. Many readers respond to the emotions the poet displays in her work or the sad story told, and they ignore the quality of the poem or simply don't recognize the flaws. Painful words and writing from the heart do not necessarily equal a good poem. A mistake many novice poets and unsophisticated readers make.

"Beauty in death as it is also in life!"

I have to go With Arty on this one... not everyone will grasp its context... but those of it who do understand it through and through!

Kisses,

great job!

T

Death of the not yet born. The imagery in this poem is one of gradual diminishment. Quite a good way of portraying sadness and loss.

that touch the very soul.

nature is strange but unrelenting. TK U MLJ LV NV

butterfly songs, For You

our butterflies cover the entire continent in their wanderings, their wings whistle silently as they reach towards the Jaguar Clouded Skies... they circle the Medicine Wheel in all 6 directions to help us learn to use the world as a map to our inner selves.

butterflies can be insistent, keep jumping at us, fluttering at us, landing on our teacups or fingtips, on a nose or a forehead. they are trying to get our attention to show us the direction in which we must fly to get to our next adventure, our coming lessons. butterflies cling to the one whom they are addressing, folding and unfolding their wings, pulling at us with their tiny legs until we realize (or don't) what we must do in the moment.

there is indeed a Spirit House of Butterflies, with a hostess, Butterfly Woman who conducts the orchestra of Butterfly Songs, tunes that shimmer tiny sheets of velvety ecstatic dreams that pull at the soul of those who are most sensitive, dancing from tawana the white flower to redtipped leaves that wave in breezes. butterflies can rub their legs together to create flame walls but only for those who are sensitive enough to feel the heat on the level of tiny, intrinsic truth. they create cocoons to hide from us while they choose the colors of their being, the patterns of their wings. they live in nests near the magical springs, the wet powerplaces, the springs and waterfalls of our lives.

when they come to us they bring messages of peace and show us the directions in which we must travel to reach the Peace. they stutter their leaves up and back, open and shuttered, My butterfly kisses a lullabye to help Me sleep then enters My dreams where her eyes focus Mine, her antennae flicker and flip little greetings, "hello. so pleased to meet you. won't you come dance with me? can you hear my breaths flicker the flower petals as I hover, feeding, sleeping, can you follow me as I travel, translating from one world to another, visiting the Earth Mother, studying with Father Sky, to the trusting innocence of the south, the cold intelligence and strong winds of the north, the sacred dreams of birth and rebirth to the west and the Light that illuminates Truth and Love, emanating from the east?"

some think that butterflies are grown up caterpillars but I know the caterpillar as the sleeping Beauty, waiting for a reason to shine forth with colorful patterned wings, waiting for the child who will gaze in wonder, for the soul capable of reading the dreamthoughts, of hearing the silent music, ready to follow the Path of Life to find Destiny.

if you think to photograph the butterfly in messenger mode you will find it impossible to do so. if you think to record the sounds made by her breaths, her wings, you will find it impossible to do so. scientists and artists can capture butterfly images for their own purposes. students with nets can capture butterflies to try to save their beauty for an eternity or two. but it is only the few who can hear the messages.

these are the reasons that butterflies exist. they cannot capture the images but they can - and must - follow the heartsongs of the butterflies.

it is the only chance this world has to survive!

copyright GypsieCowboy 2011

It works. I hear it. I feel it. I will read more.

Sometimes people say "they left us too soon" when talking about suicide. Did that not occur to you?