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    dots Submission Name: Lament of the Blue Morpho (Mariposa Azul)dots

    Author: JanePlane
    ASL Info:    125/F/everyplane
    Elite Ratio:    6.77 - 417/433/131
    Words: 363
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 1345
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2608


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsLament of the Blue Morpho (Mariposa Azul)dots

    Lament of the Blue Morpho (Mariposa Azul)

    "My wings diminish me.
    They are so great,
    so heavy in their expanding," he sighs.

    "My body is a coarse line.
    It bends to
    the delicate
    iridescent blue
    that surrounds it."

    He turns his gaze toward her.

    "My head is a black dot.
    It too is enveloped by
    these slight,
    soft limbs."

    He arches his back, calling to the heavens now:

    "I am drowning in their enchantments!
    Buried in their ecstasy
    it is true,

    they trick the eye--

    when pressed
    and falling through
    the air
    the weight of them
    forcing me to plummet--

    I feel the breeze of your

    Plain and ordinary
    Am I . . .

    Until I turn away!

    Then you will race to catch me.
    Then you will seek my miracle.
    Then you will want

    but all day. I see the
    the common,
    the everydayliness
    of me.

    I too
    am blinded
    to my magnificence.

    I too
    nothing of my

    of my

    I am
    but burdened

    by the Sheer Size

    of this

    you call

    my Magic.

    My flight
    to the skies

    my morphing
    to God
    is laden with
    all of this,

    which pulls me
    back to earth.

    I cannot
    carry your dreams
    or mine to the Spirits!"

    His eyes narrow,

    I hide.
    I masquerade,

    as sprite,
    as fairy,
    as glimmer of hope."

    He bows his head.

    "Until you are lost;
    weighted with this encumbrance…"

    He sighs again.

    "So that I may be light enough
    to fly away!"

    And with this he takes flight, blue
    the sun's light.


    folds back
    inside herself--


    her own knowledge
    of what God


    She smiles
    and whispers,

    Submitted on 2008-05-20 21:51:32     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      i'd rather be a sparrow than a snail...yes i would----

    simon and garfunkel

    okay yes, a bit long for me...i find myself scrolling more than reading...

    i like the ideas in this..but want them compacted...i feel shorter poems hit harder...that is just me.

    it's an undertaking though...and sometimes we need to just let it out...no matter how long it takes.

    | Posted on 2012-03-03 00:00:00 | by jacoberin | [ Reply to This ]
      wow...only a man would freud this one out!!!
    (i do admire that in men, don't you? the way they catagorise and name us...shall i check the link on machine's name below to discover if i am right that he is male?)
    i'll be pandora one more time...i simply can't resist!
    i would hestiate to tell you what you thought when you penned this line (how archaic that word-'penned'...just who does write their poem out anymore? not i, not since 2006...at least not consistantly and i believe consistancy counts)...
    i scarcely know from one moment to the next what i am on about, so i try not to define your words...in the same manner i would not approach that shiny shiny blue butterfly and peirce his tiny body to mount him on a board.
    (why do people do those things?)
    (i know...decoration)
    i will say though, that this butterfly has always been my very favorite, because of the drabness of his wings on this side and the iridescent brilliance on their obverse.
    it makes me think (pretentiously enough) of the duality of man...
    she, the second subject in the poem, i take to be the pearly larvae inside the cocoon, having just come from the stuff that god is made of and curled up sewn up like eternity itself...that is my interpretation, anyway.
    perhaps she is a moth.
    tell me, am i even close?
    have i guessed the riddle?

    there is a bit of a tone, like sour grapes from the butterfly.
    as if he is boasting in opposite form...fishing for compliments.
    he seems desperate to be assured of his magnificence by the moth (at least in my version of this piece).
    (how fragile a man can be at the core of himself)

    i would prefer to be a moth than a butterfly, i think.
    i should not like to be murdered for the beauty of my wings.

    now i will click that name to see if i was correct in the assumption of gender regarding machine... and what do you think i will find?
    | Posted on 2008-06-05 00:00:00 | by ruejacobs | [ Reply to This ]
      I suddenly had time on my hand so let me begin.

    This is so pretentious it'll scare most people away from commenting, if they weren't already from the vertical challenge that scrolling down represents for the internet noobs.

    From what I gathered it's about this blue butterfly that is not impressed with how impressive he is.

    You on the other hand feel that you are plain and boring, while at the same time claiming you are in fact sizzling hot.

    Burdened by your lack of self esteem you feel you failed God and pretend to be a Wiccan instead since mother earth is easier to please.

    Then when the dude goes to heaven, you smile, cause deep inside you know that heaven doesn't really exist, which makes you a wicked lady, and you feel sad about the fact that you're evil and wicked, and are afraid that God is watching and judging, even though you don't really believe in God, but capitalize his name just in case, cause you never know, and you're intelligent enough to know that it's easier to just play it safe.

    | Posted on 2008-05-23 00:00:00 | by machine dream | [ Reply to This ]

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