Recent poems by JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER
A rush to judgement,
Ode to a tree,
It's a blessing,
A born sinner, or heavenly pornography?
The why of apple pie
My little Jasmin,
The long and heavy chain,
In God's vineyard,
Living in a bubble?
Grains of life,
Seeing the stage,
The comfortable proud
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At peace, at last,
by JASMIN HORST E. P. SEILER
Friday, April 20, 2012
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Suffering my inatentive excistence, the brain tries to reason, but no success.
For a week I've been chasing this little butterfly as it was sunning itself on my stone path; every time I came near with camera in hand, it fly to a different stone. So beautiful it was too, as it was dancing in the air with another, I called out I remember, you are a real tease, then put the camera away. This rainy morning, spreading some treats for Jakob, I blindly stepped on it, crushing it's insides, suffering the sadness of my inattention, of not being present. I took it's little head between my nails and snipped it off, so it need not suffer, I might as well have cut my own in the moment, for though its nerves are servered, mine are still alive.
No more struggle need she do,
No more pain to suffer through,
Eternal peace is with her now,
No need to elements now bow,
Though beautiful were she alive,
She’d need for sustenance to strife,
From predators to run or hide,
Rejuvenate from sleep to flight,
Seek light in darkness for her wing,
That a moment’s comforts bring,
Now at peace that lasts my friend,
Why do I suffer for your end?©20/04/2012
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|Reviewed by Jon Willey
|Jasmin, tragedy even though an unintended consequence makes the heart grieve with remorse and guilt - what to do what to do - a man of your compassion for all things living is undoubtedly grieving more than the majority of humankind would - I know the sickening feeling in the gut, a small bird flies into the path of your car and you are unable to avoid hitting it - your pet dog is sitting at your feet and you stand and accidently step on its tail - these incidents give us great pain - we must cope as best we can my dear friend - I wish you love and peace -Jon Michael|
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|What a twist of fate! Unintended death always disturbs, but butterflies lives are short and this one may already have laid eggs, insuring generations to come.
This poem could also be a metaphor for euthanasia. When the folder plug is always a difficult question. However, I believe we must do it in order to avoid unnecessary suffering for someone who will eventually die anyway.
|Reviewed by Ed Matlack
|What Mr. Ed/Pee wee said seems to most intelligent review so far...e|
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|Ed says it well, you suffer, Jasmin, because you care
and your sensitive spirit can't help feeling
and for that i'm proud of you
|Reviewed by Mr. Ed
|You suffer because you still care about all of our earthly neighbors. If only billions more cared as you do.|
|Reviewed by Diana Wiles
|I was very moved and touched by your words, and secondly by what other friends below have put to ease your pain. You are such a special lady Jasmin, and this meaningful event has brought much love to the surface...Perhaps that is what the Beautiful butterfly's purpose was...If it was it has succeeded....
|Reviewed by jude forese
|when you manage to step on a butterfly most likely it was already dying ... perhaps the butterfly was teasing you for it was hoping for a dear soul to help if end its future suffering ...|
|Reviewed by Mary Lacey, Desertrat
This is so heartbreaking. I'm sure you felt more pain than the butterfly when you stepped on it. As you say, it's gone but you still have to suffer. How sad.
|Reviewed by Patrick Granfors
|All creatures great and small
Matters not you love them all
Your guilt for actions unintended
Results of which could not be mended
Should not be fueled by further dwelling
Confession has now done the telling
Relax your heart yourself forgive
A gloomy cloud's no place to live
|Reviewed by Diana Legun
|Your sensitivity here is the most gorgeous part of this poem, and your words reveal that very well. Choosing that last line allows the resonance of the heart of this piece to ring and keep ringing....."For Whom The Bell Tolls." Happy to see others revere every little whisker of life. Yesterday I felt joy at a large black spider on the white ceiling; someone to share my vinyl record playing the soundtrack of "Camelot" with me. Be happy for what you feel to write this poem of yours. Thanks. ~~ Diana|