A butterfly, it was,
and not a leaf;
against my belief,
that it ‘was’ a leaf,
that from off a branch
did fall
to the ground,
where it would be found
by leaf-eating creatures;
but, no, it wasn’t so,
it ‘was’ a butterfly,
that before it reached the very ground
did strike its wings
to soar, and glide
upon the breeze,
and alight once more
on a branch
in the trees.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Butterfly, #Flutterby, #leaf, #MistakenIdentity, #poetry. #poem
A leaf fell from on high
to on low
the only way it knew to go.
It landed on a leaf,
I thought it was a butterfly;
I looked very closely,
but, to my flutter disbelief,
I found it was just another leaf
that had flown down from the sky.
It’s almost beyond belief,
but I’m a bird
who thinks it’s a leaf.
I perch on a branch
and sway
sometimes for as long
as a day.
The other birds laugh at me
in the Winter –
in the Summer I’m harder to see;
and in Autumn and Spring
I’m just doing my thing;
so, please leaf me alone,
let me be.
I was walking along,
when a leaf, from off of.a tree,
landed upon my head,
damaging me –
I was concussed?
Nobody fussed
over my supine body,
but, other leaves soon joined in,
tapping a cacophonous threnody
upon my broken pate;
at this rate, I’ll be
the mound of the fallen zero –
more a landmark,
less a hero.
I said ‘Hello!’ to a random leaf;
but, the random leaf ignored me;
I said hello to another leaf –
with the outcome just the same;
I said ‘Hello!’ to many leaves;
but none of them replied –
so, eventually,
I gave up saying hello to random leaves –
it was silly,
and it bored me
Well, the title says it all,
so I don’t have to pen a tale so tall;
and when you shout, ‘What?’
I answer the call,
because, in my dictionary
‘Pride’ comes before ‘Fall’.
It’s not a very good dictionary,
actually, it’s fictionary.
In Autumn,
a leaf fell;
in the Fall,
it also fell;
be it one or the other,
the result was the same:
the first to fall,
I have found,
presages a general
leaf fest upon the ground.
I saw a bee upon a leaf,
which gave me great belief
that a bee can be upon a leaf
and the leaf can bee
happy, too.
Edward lived every day
as if it was his first,
or his last;
green of experience in his youth
he learnt all that could
until he became a wizened old fellow.
One day,
whilst wearing a coat of brown, trimmed with a motley yellow,
he fell to the ground,
and just lay there.
Graeme Sandford 