Thrown Butterflies
          I can no longer fly
          The wings are gone, my back is bare
          The wind still blows
          But I have nothing to carry me
          I see others who still have their wings
          I smile in remembrance
          But frown knowing what waits for them
          Innocent and naive to the truth
          I regret the loss of my wings
          But not too much
          The knowledge was well worth the price
          I can't help, though
          From time to time
          To be one of those that are thrown into the wind
          To have the illusions and dreams once more
          But I know that it would be only a brief dream
          We all must eventually come back down
          To face reality
          Say farewell to the illusions
          To no longer feel the rush and the downfall
          Of being a thrown butterfly

          Acceptance
          Ideas, pictures
          float in like moths attracted to the distant light
          but with the swiftness of a robber
          who has come and gone
          before you realize something was taken
          those beautiful dreams are gone
          and I am left with a half-finished canvas

          After that muse has left my side
          my hand fails to reclaim the splendor that had begun
          the inspiration that is as fleeting as the summer breeze
          brings recollections of the sweet memories of what once was
          and just like my guiding light
          I cannot bring myself to let them go

          So, again I put the brush to the partial picture
          and that beautiful vision is only ruined
          it's gone
          I realize now
          that I must let it go
          there is nothing to be done
          I let the illusion and the memories slip by
          folding up the easel
          I put away the canvas
          and my lost dreams

          No more will I dream of what might have been
          or try to regain those lost days
          the paints are thrown away
          and for the first time
          I feel no regret
          no guilt
          for once I feel I can truly live again

          Questions
          Who am I?
          Why am I here?
          What is the point?
          Questions everyone is familiar with
          But most do not dwell on them...
          For too long.
          Some choose to be optimistic
          And trust their lives to Fate...
          Others take the “easy” way out
          And end it all at once...
          But I have tried both ways
          And found that neither is easier than the other.
          We’re all just passing spirits in the greater scheme of things
          (Aren’t we?)
          Until death
          Death, then what?
          Blind faith is what they ask of me
          What they demand of me
          But I am not like them
          Faith does not come that easy for me.
          Haste makes waste
          But how can we not hasten
          When we never know what tomorrow brings?
          “...life is like a box of chocolates,
          you never know what you’re gonna get.”
          Truer words have never been spoken
          But why do we except this?
          We all want to break free from the mundane routine of “normal” life
          But we never do
          For fear that by going against the future...
          What?...
          Afraid that we may finally be in control?...
          That we will not be able to blame Fate for our mistakes anymore?
          We are played like pawns on a chess board by this so called Fate.
          Once we realize the cruel joke that has been played on us
          We say, “If I were only younger...”
          But the young are saying, “If I were only older...”
          All relying on the other
          And nothing ever changes.

          Cynical
          “The world is a horrible place to bring in a child.”
          How true that is!
          Pollution is rising
          Employment is falling
          Kids killing kids
          They are our future
          Adults will not make a decision
          Everyone is sitting around twiddling their thumbs
          Waiting for someone else to make a decision
          Not going to happen.
          But it’s too late to change things
          What difference does it make now?
          No one knows the meaning of “courtesy”
          Or they choose to not practice it
          The world is full of ingrates
          You are naive if you have any faith in human decency
          Wake up and smell the coffee
          The world is not going to end in a bang or a whimper
          But both.
          The bang will be the sound of those destroying the earth
          The whimper will be the sound of those who would not stop the others.

          The End (of a Way of Life)
          The time for frivolities is over
          As we cast aside our desires
          Eccentricities are no more

          The delusions of wealth melt away
          Our lack of frugality
          Brings our downfall

          The pockets are pinched
          Rich people are eccentric
          Poor people are crazy

          The irony is bitter
          While the pot call the kettle black
          Are we getting our just desserts?

          The world we knew is torn away from our grabby hands
          Needful things turn into hopes and dreams
          We’re not so bad off

          The truth of the matter is...
          My way of life is changing
          And I do not like it.


          Poetry Corner Donnelaith: A Break From Reality

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