Dead Men and Butterflies

by Tony Grannell   Mar 4, 2020

Dead men and butterflies
never make a sound.
The hallowed wings of silence
over dead men’s ground.

Buried in the darkness,
hidden ’neath the soil.
Succumbing to the quietness
is a dead man’s toil.

In death in escaping
on a rhyme of flight.
A poesy of piety
meriting the quiet.

Versed in eternity,
serenely adorned.
The poetry of butterflies
where the dead men mourned.

Quietly from the living,
the evermore bound.
For dead men and butterflies
never make a sound.


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Latest Comments

  • 3 weeks ago

    by Ben Pickard

    A beautifully crafted poem, Tony, well worthy of your second win.
    All the very best to you,


    • 2 weeks ago

      by Tony Grannell

      Hello Ben, Thank you very much. I was surprised, excited and humbled.
      Take care now, Tony.

  • 3 weeks ago

    by Star

    I was reminded of a case I read recently of two environmental activist who worked for the conservation of butterflies, were killed in the same week.
    This poem feels like it was inspired by that. So this was a sad read for me....

    • 3 weeks ago

      by Tony Grannell

      Hello Star,
      It is very nice to hear from you again.
      Yes, I remember reading about that, in Mexico, I think, both of them murdered protecting Monarch butterflies. Nigh on impossible to comprehend. Now that you have mentioned it, the poem could be construed as a tribute to the two activists, may they rest in peace, so I shall declare it so.
      Thank you ever so much for reading and responding, most kind of you indeed.
      Regards, Tony.

  • 4 weeks ago

    by Tony Grannell

    Hello Milly,
    I am dlighted you enjoyed this one ad thank you very much for reading and responding.
    Kind regards, Toy.

  • 4 weeks ago

    by Milly Hayward

    Really enjoyable read. The rhyming and rhythm is great and the refrain works very well too. Milly x

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