THE BUTTERFLY YOU WERE MEANT TO BE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Let The Hard Work You Did In Your Caterpillar Phase,

Let You Fulfill Your Dreams And Become

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Raven

I once thought I had become so used to sorrow that I
might never speak again.

I purged myself to a mute, perfect blackness,
waiting just to give one last unhuman cry and fly away,

Anything to escape, 
to  head for the far mountains and the headwaters,

To live the life of a scavenger and beggar, a medieval vagabond,
always apart, feeding on the lives and hidden parts around me.

But letting go wasn’t an end,
merely the funeral for the lost, the old and gone, a 

Mere rolling back of the stone for
what comes next: No life without death. 

The raven, feeling the updrafts, sought high air,
above the smoke of chimneys, beyond memory.

Intrigued by shiny things, he descends, in time,
awkward and clownish on the ground.

Charmed by unconscious kindness, he can tell at a distance 
the humility that comes  from a thousand small griefs;

And trusts a bit more. Drawn by the shrewdness and subtlety
of the neglected and the oppressed, who, like him, see

The powerful ones in their brutal clarity and adapt, 
who to survive, must cultivate the grace of forgiveness, and cleverness.

THE BUTTERFLY YOU WERE MEANT TO BE

By Charles Robert Lindholm

Let The Hard Work You Did In Your Caterpillar Phase,

Let You Fulfill Your Dreams And Become

Blood One

Bloodworm of my heart you feed on
Bloodmeal, bloody meat, tarantulas whose bodies
Sing in whistles whilst they smoke and die.

As a mahogany seed you birthed into the bloodwood tree,
Your bloodline a thin, red ribbon, crossing over the moor.

Worlds Collide

In the ebony skies
A light shines through

~ Spring Rites~ Haiku

Mourning doves cooing

Robins, finches fluttering

Mating call cadence

O’Prunty

3/9/15

Easter day yellow

Forsythia yellow leapt to life
On Easter Sunday morn
Dead throughout the winter
Today it was reborn

~ Inducements

~  Inducements 

My love buds are about to bloom

With nectar honey-bee sweet

And soft the blades of grass;

A velvet green beneath our feet

~ Spring

~ Spring ~

Robin red breast sings

Heralds Floras arrival

Rebirths secret song

O’Prunty

See Love In Your Pain

You may grind me to dust
With razor sharp feelings
Remember this, you must
In my rebirth, for meanings

Silver Spring

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Drip drip, the snow is loosing it’s grip and Winter Wonder is  looking tired. She has been dragging her skirts through the fields and turning then to slush it really is becoming bothersome to her as she does so hate to rush.

But who is this peeking through the cracks in the clouds, hiding in the buds of flowers and calling to Wonder but not too look

It is her little sister the youngest of them all, most delicate and gentle soul,  Silver Spring the song birds all do her call.She is the light touch of a gentle breeze that  gently rustles through your hair. She runs her fingers along the branches and makes the snow to thaw then dances on our roofs and paths so it disappears some more.

She is dancing up and down the flower beds  and whispering to the buds, “Come on my little lovelys   it is time to raise your heads! Waking up the squirrels and every animal that hibernates, hurry hurry she gently coos I have filled your breakfast plates.

winter – poem

too cliche… but I am eternally consoled by the infinite monkey theory

Dependence fades like autumn’s
Brilliant red and yellow hues
And leaves us bare,
Lonely isolated trees
That weep and bend
Unbroken ‘neath winter’s icy burden.
Until amidst despair that one more
Day must freeze us,
Lock us
Forever in this loveless place
The robin, harbinger of spring appears.

rebirth through tears

A lovely post from Esengs’s voice inspired this haiku