[NOTE: I apologize for the confusion. I totally messed up this post when I originally wrote it. I accidentally published it when I was saving it for another day, then removed it. Then, when I restored it this morning, it popped up for June 1st instead of today. I was going to let it go, but it kept bugging me, so I re-did the post so I wouldn’t obsess over my mistake all day. That’s not OCD, right?]
by Dawn Pisturino
For my daughter, Ariel
Butterfly, Butterfly,
Dappled with red,
Night-time is coming,
Fly home to your bed!
The white moon is rising,
He hasn’t a care;
The bright stars are shining,
Reflecting him there.
Oh, Butterfly, Butterfly,
What shall you do?
If darkness enfolds you,
How will you get through?
Fly home on a moonbeam,
Guided by stars,
Or maybe such planets
As Venus and Mars?
Or, drifting along on a
Sweet summer breeze,
You’ll land where you want
And do as you please?
Float down on a flower,
The sweet nectar there,
Drawing you inward
And filling the air?
You’ll suck up your supper,
Then lay down to sleep,
Your wings folded neatly,
Their beauty to keep.
And when, in the morning,
You suddenly wake,
The sun will be rising,
A new day will break.
Then, Butterfly, Butterfly,
Fly away home!
Or follow your instincts
To wander and roam.
But come again – do! –
If you happen this way,
Night-time or daytime
Or any old day!
February 8, 1986
This poem was set to music by composer and film maker Barry Gremillion and recorded in October 2013 by Barry Gremillion and Ariel Pisturino.It was uploaded onto SoundCloud.
Thanks, Ariel and Barry!
(CD cover)
Thanks for stopping by and visiting!
Dawn Pisturino
June 6, 2022
Copyright 1986-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
This poem was set to music by composer and film maker Barry Gremillion and recorded in October 2013 by Barry Gremillion and Ariel Pisturino.It was uploaded onto SoundCloud.
Thanks, Ariel and Barry!
(CD cover)
Dawn Pisturino
June 6, 2022
Copyright 1986-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
D-Day: An incredible military campaign that required extensive planning and mutual cooperation between allied countries. Never forget – “Freedom is not free.”
These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about.
So, when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks At my dear land of Story-books.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson ~
When You are Old
When you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
~ W.B. Yeats ~
Good Books
Good books are friendly things to own. If you are busy they will wait. They will not call you on the phone Or wake you if the hour is late. They stand together row by row, Upon the low shelf or the high. But if you’re lonesome this you know: You have a friend or two nearby.
The fellowship of books is real. They’re never noisy when you’re still. They won’t disturb you at your meal. They’ll comfort you when you are ill. The lonesome hours they’ll always share. When slighted they will not complain. And though for them you’ve ceased to care Your constant friends they’ll still remain.
Good books your faults will never see Or tell about them round the town. If you would have their company You merely have to take them down. They’ll help you pass the time away, They’ll counsel give if that you need. He has true friends for night and day Who has a few good books to read.
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