Quatrain

Butterfly Pendant

A butterfly pendant of gold and blue
Sparkled with beauty in the blazing sun.
No matter if it were broken or new,
Its breathlessness could not be outdone.

Blissful was the lady who received this gift,
From her sweetheart, a young college boy.
Never again did she feel this kind of lift,
Which had blanketed her with love and joy. . .

Until one fine day she was called upon
by her sweetheart love to spend her life.
With her smile, his heart she had won,
So he asked her to be his lovely wife. 

With the butterfly pendant upon her chest,
blossoming buttercups filling her bouquet,
And two gold 

rings
 to be forever blessed;
The couple was married without delay. 

Copyright © 2005 Marie Summers 

Blank Verse

The Ball Poem 

By John Berryman 

What is the boy now, who has lost his ball.

What, what is he to do? I saw it go

Merrily bouncing, down the street, and then

Merrily over—there it is in the water!

No use to say 'O there are other balls':

An ultimate shaking grief fixes the boy

As he stands rigid, trembling, staring down

All his young days into the harbour where

His ball went. I would not intrude on him,

A dime, another ball, is worthless. Now

He senses first responsibility

In a world of possessions. People will take balls,

Balls will be lost always, little boy,

And no one buys a ball back. Money is external.

He is learning, well behind his desperate eyes,

The epistemology of loss, how to stand up

Knowing what every man must one day know

And most know many days, how to stand up

And gradually light returns to the street,

A whistle blows, the ball is out of sight.

Soon part of me will explore the deep and dark

Floor of the harbour . . I am everywhere,

I suffer and move, my mind and my heart move

With all that move me, under the water

Or whistling, I am not a little boy.