In the hello of a flower
Partners sup
Dew’s condensation,
Floresce in solar light
As beings manifest
And conjured iridescent.
©Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2017
butterflies
Butterfly Love
Around the white lilac bloom
Two white butterflies flirt
In spiral mirror images,
As if they were once
The petals on which
They now alight,
Revisiting for but the briefest instant
Of memory past
Before once again
Gambolling on updrafts
And the gentlest touches
Of wingtip flutterings
In the dance of butterfly love.
Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2016
In Her Butterfly Breath
In the air around
In her warm breath
In her aura.
In the space
That she owns,
Crossed by no other.
In her own land,
The country
Of her soul’s endeavour
There are butterflies
In swarms,
In every multicolour
And species creed.
They are
The myth of her lightness,
For on invisible strings
She is anchored
To every flutter
And delicate wingbeat,
And held aloft
As any lucky cloud
Is mystical
In the wind’s drift
And by the sky delivered.
It’s as if
They were part of her
And her body
Were just food stuff
On which the insects
Come to fill and feast:
Her heart
– A chalice –
Nectar deep,
The sweet centre
Of a spirit flower
That she is
In the ether-other
Beyond the solid and tangible
Regulations of the
World we live.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Wildflower
Amid the stalks’ voice
And rustling breeze,
And upon the gently swaying stage
A perfect purple plate
Delivered
So sweetly to the need
Of butterfly, moth
And bees:
A flower for all
On which to feed
And burrow deep
Within its pleasure.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015
Butterfly Love
After rain,
A moments solar respite
On the hydrophobic leaves.
Next,
To the light as wingtip air
And figures of flittering,
To the updraft
And the couplet spiralling
As high as love
And the mesmerisation
In mating’s
Centrifugal force.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.
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