7 Best Caterpillar Butterfly Poems

The most beautiful caterpillar butterfly poems. A collection of butterfly poems and poems featuring butterflies. There are poems by world-renowned authors and talented amateurs.

Butterflies in Human-Skins

In blissed ignorance many people believe only they are so clever

They scheme a little deception

They pretend to be what they want

They are colorful or plainly camouflaged

 

It is humorous when you know that they don’t know anything

That the butterflies have done for all time

Mimic sounds to fool others into believing they are clan

Growing colors to blend with anything they like

Be glowing iridescent like solar gasses in response to solar rays

Make a familiar odor to walk among enemies unscathed

Close their wings to change color-exposing only the undercolor

 

And they play together, fly together,

forage together and love together.

 

Butterflies are good teachers for humans.

Teaching the Caterpillar to Fly — A work in progress

The caterpillar crawls and eats and eats.And grows, shedding its skin but little more.
Crawl, climb, eat. Crawl, climb, eat.|
Of all of our lives, can we not soar?One day as two caterpillars looked
As a beautiful butterfly sailed by.
Of course one said to the other:
“You’ll never get me in a butterfly, high.”

Gratefulness, laughing and smiles.
But no clear understanding or view
Of these ironies and implications
What was The Answer you knew?

Resistance. Perspective. and Change.
All of these and more are involved.
Yet insight is limited. And self-perspective too.
My mother was a moth – this problem is solved.

One must STOP in the caterpillar journey
For transformation, what we can become.
One must change to a much gooey mess
to undergo metamorphosis and change.

Is the potential understood? Is it realized?
We just don’t know. Yet it does.
The Call of The Wild. And the need to Become.
Gain the wings, lose the teeth and the fuzz.

It is about letting go, trust the process
Of growth and experience and your view.
It is Becoming. You are more than you are
With things you already had. And you knew?

The colors are on the butterfly
And already within what we were.
Can we all learn from this? Can we help?
These changes will most surely occur.

Be Wary of the Caterpillars by Quip the Quandary

The veins in my heart,
rooted down to my stomach,
and from these roots began to grow a tree,
and on its branches caterpillars did roam
right there in my stomach,
they made their home.
yet I was alone.

Enter the lumberjack.
The caterpillars cocooned,
ready to begin the transformation
from girl to woman, oh, the sensation!

Time ticked on,
the lumberjack and I,
with that little spark in our eye,
from the tree, grew a garden, into woods
our love resounding above the forest canopy
the feral instincts, the cinders, the shade
until finally the Sun no longer shone
so the wall of qualms had to go,
in the form of trees,
one by one.
chopped.

Yet.
the wildfires had sparked
and the cocoons were now butterflies
and the forest we grew together was ablaze
what he didn’t chop, my cinders singed,
ash by ash life was ceasing to be,
and then from the woods,
were we forced to flee.

and the butterflies flew free
the blossoms,
the trees,
burned

but the butterflies flew free,
in my stomach,
they are free

so now a bit of our dead forest lives in me.

Caterpillars By Madelin

We plucked eyebrows

from the clover.
Caterpillars
contracting as
we pinched each one
between our plump
baby fingers,
expanding as
we lined them on
each other’s arms—
wooly train cars.
They would ripple
blindly, segment
by segment, scoot
across the floor
of the rusty
coffee can we’d
prepared for them
so carefully—
braided hairs of
grasses, flowers,
twigs, stones and all—
a crude and cruel
imitation
of their clover,
but certainly
better, somehow.

We were sure.

Caterpillars By Okirsten

He was a caterpillar,
a youth, an intellect. The
air cleansed his golden locks
in the midst of humid
springtime, and the horns
sounded his spirit and
sang his name when he
was too shy to introduce
himself. Shallow footprints
followed  his path and
sweat stung his eyes and
trickled the creeks of his face.

Caterpillars By Courtney Snodgrass

Whenever I find
Myself thinking about you,
I get butterflies.

Crazy / Beautiful By w r e c k a g e

do you remember
when you pinned wings
on a caterpillar
because you couldn’t wait
to be beautiful?
me neither
that’s just crazy
or whatever
it doesn’t have to make sense
but you have to learn how to crawl
before you can fly
so be patient
and always remember
caterpillars are just butterflies
in straitjackets