I was once
a trusting child
awaiting
a butterfly
or a tornado on the horizon.
I dug a cellar underground to escape my fury; a safe place to weather the storm; a place to gather knowledge; the wisdom to respect destruction. I'd laugh hearing armageddon explode above my shelter, underground, for I have dominion over the tornado, I alone.
When the winds and fury died, I surfaced to survey the aftermath. Death and decay met me. Yet, the tornado underestimated my resolve. I'd rebuild towers and replant crops, and defy the tornado's destruction, I alone.
I sit on the stump of the old oak, surveying its fallen branches ... a butterfly joins me--
I am ancient
knowing nothing
eyes, the colour of regret
waiting for a butterfly
stronger than the wind
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| Writing Prompt |
Write a poem in any style known or unknown, sonnet, free verse, prose poem, haiku or some concoction you've dreamed up. Whatever you call a poem in this case IS a poem. I'm the monitor. :))
Your presentation is up to your imagination.
That's it. No other rules. |
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Your Best Poem-Any Style
Contest Winner
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