Butterfly Child

Poem By Wild Bill Balding

hormonal soup
pulsing, congealing;
chrysalis carapace
throbbing, cracking;
unknown muscles
struggling, jerking
through paper jaws...
exhausted, immobile,
transformed, transfigured -
let me dry my wings.

Comments about Butterfly Child

Excellent write.Great metaphor! A 10!
Superb command of language. This succinct and eloquent poem paints a vivid picture. It is also an aural acievement. Magnificent! S :)
To be honest I usually prefer poems with rhyme rhythm or both but somehow your poem here entertains me where many of its kind do not. It must be the excellent choice of words...
another great one. Brilliant imagery, superb choice of words.
Fascinating. You definately have a way with words. Ten for this. As always, Sandra

Rating Card

4,4 out of 5
8 total ratings

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house-trained even.


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His best friends had them.
He didn't say anything about
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What must you do to get it right?

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