Blood Butterflies

Blood butterflies,
calloused palms led out.
I thought I would offer a No, but
stayed shut,
extrapolating implications.

Seasons dance in deprived,
mimicking lollipop lustre-
Saharan antipathy
spluttering in humors of
a fattened sun, watching
epics unfold,

I hate diabetic grins,
glint of congealed carmine,
steel tongues,
gunpowder rain, like

the way I hate how he melts
icicles back home:


Color accented films
yet to dry in dark-rooms, I’m weary, and
they still scream for
Revolution on the
morning radio.

©Mohana Das

From the perspective of a photojournalist posted to document the African rebellions/revolutions.
Linked to D’Verse, FormForAll


14 thoughts on “Blood Butterflies

  1. this is really cool all the images..the revolution on the morning radio..the drying in dark-rooms…the diabetic grins.. would love to join that photojournalist for a day or two..must be tough and fascinating at the same time..

  2. Your metaphors are unusual, distinct and thought provoking – just what they should be. Avoiding cliche is mandatory – particularly affecting; Blood butterflies, extrapolating implications, steel tongues, and gunpowder rain. They allow you to compress so well. Thank you for the strong images here and linking to the article. Well done, Mohana.

  3. Striking images… everyday tasks pitted against the carnage; repetition suggests a sense of same-old-same-old and a deep frustration that the situation remains in so many ways unchanged.

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