Just Me

(Picture Credit - Internet by OECD org)

What’s poetic about a foundry worker’s son,

Born and bred in Leeds, now idling my time away

In a rinky dink seaside town? What’s poetic

About sitting on my laptop reading Facebook

And pressing Like now and then? It’s got me typing

Like a modern poet, no rhyme or metre to be seen.

I’m going to (roughly) count the syllables then chop this

Into verses. Then post it on my favourite

Poetry sites, plus my blog.

Perhaps there’s poetry in me being a Working Class Boy made good.

In me being a Pro Careers Worker after failing

My Eleven Plus. Even got to Grammar School

For a couple of years. Taught English for six.

The Internet is my Salvation.

Television too.

Is that prosaic enough for you?

Damn that rhymed! Knowledge and images,

That yet beget… and much more too.

No need to be there in person.

Just enjoy.

Paul Butters

© PB 22\6\2014 (2) In Humberside.

Brazil 2014

(Picture Credit - Newsbuzzz)

France has a chance,

Brazil will thrill.

The World Cup is here.

Let’s crash out the beer.

Aguero is my hero,

Messie the ideal pressie.

England and Spain are out.

What is that all about?

Russia will always rush you,

Ghana are piranha.

Attacking football’s here to stay,

So make those forays pay.

Who will win The Cup?

We’re only warming up.

The knockout phase is on its way

And every dog must have its day.

Ronaldo, Saurez, Robben, Giroud… are the cream,

Helping their nation fulfil its dream.

All sorts of tactics on display,

But pace and skill is going to pay.

Brazil 2014 is the year.

It’ll be remembered, never fear.

Paul Butters

© PB 22\6\2014 in Humberside.

Rhyme 1



 

(Picture Credit - Rebel Release by Movies ndtv dot com)

 

 

Don’t make me use rhyme,

I’m bound to commit a crime:

I do it every time.

 

Don’t make me write doggerel,

Proud as a cockerel:

I’m so much in peril,

Like Beryl (lol).

 

I want to write a poem

But if words rhyme with this I don’t know ‘em.

There’s nothing else I can show ‘em.

 

Free blank verse for me,

Up my poet tree:

That is, mainly, all I see.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 17\6\2014 in Humberside.

Remember

(Picture Credit - Writing by Macmyth)

Make your poems Memorable,

That’s what I say.

No need to be incredible,

Just let them play.

Read them with your inner voice,

Write them that way too.

Hear the music in those words,

This I’m telling You.

In ancient times these poems were songs

Remembered off by heart.

At least you’d call them statements,

Knowledge to impart.

Iambic metre’s very common yes,

And so of course is rhyme:

To make these verses remembered

Through the course of time.

Yet verse is best as poetry,

Lyrical if you will.

We have to write with feeling,

And give the reader a thrill.

Paul Butters

© PB 15\6\2014 in Humberside.

Electronic

(Picture Credit - Rad Co Uk)

Bump bump bump

Thump thump thump

Bump thump bump thump bump thump

Pump pump pump

Electronic music

Will make you jump

Throw in some squawk and slither.

Oh by God we will deliver.

Bump bump bump

Repetitive

Repetitive

Repetitive

Strain injury

That’s too competitive.

Repetitive

Reflecting the age of mobiles

IPads and Wi-Fi

Or whatever

Bump bump bump

Hum hum hum

Get on the Google

Whatever happened to

The “Daily Bugle”?

Let’s do the Google Boogie.

I’m falling into a trap

Just gotta rap.

We know what THAT

Rhymes with.

Lol

Thrumming, humming and strumming

Can’t beat that constant drumming.

Don’t fight your Facebook Friends

The Interweb just never ends.

Don’t bother looking out for cars

They’ll see you’ve got your head in Mars.

Keep pressing those keys

Cos Hell will never freeze.

Bump bump bump…

Yes that music’s electronic,

It’s almost supersonic.

To hear it is a tonic

Even when you’re feeling chronic,

Hoping it is not Bubonic.

Bump bump bump…

Paul Butters

© PB 3\6\2014 in Yorkshire. Final stanza written 10\6 and added (with trimmings) 11\6).

(This post was first made C 7\6 but that was deleted after copying and pasting created a create chasm at the foot of the page (on 11\6). Reposted 11\6).

Carl Froch

(Picture Credit - Carl Froch by The Telegraph)

I’m a British boxer called Carl Froch.

When I fought George Groves I knocked off his block.

I got the speed and I have the endurance.

If you fight me you’ll need some insurance.

You might say I sound just like Ali,

But I’m not Ali, I’m me, me, me.

They say that boxing’s a game for crooks,

But in my case it’s all right hooks.

I’ve got the strength, I’ve got the power,

So you get ready to take that final shower.

Watch out you sucker, for my right cross,

You’re gonna find out who is the boss.

You won’t find me going duckin’ and diving,

My punching power is making me thriving.

Ali had his dancing feet,

But take ME on and you’ll get beat.

You’ll rattle with my every punch,

And then I’ll have you for my lunch.

You’ll all be safer when I hang up my gloves,

And then you can release a flock of doves.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\6\2014 in Yorkshire.

My Vogue

(Picture Credit - Vogue, Madonna by popfan dot com)

Muhammad Ali, Sebastian Coe,

Who the hell was DiMaggio?

Daly Thompson, Serge Aguero

That is what I call a hero.

Georgie Best and David Beckham,

Even though he came from Peckham.

Billy Bremner, Johnny Giles

Running midfield with his wiles.

Satriani, Eric Clapton, Hendrix and Brian May,

Let’s listen to these right through the day.

Berry, Jones, Collins and Elvis,

Gyrating away, with his pelvis.

Shakespeare, Milton, Shelley and Keats

All famous for poetic feats.

Murray, Farah, Waldner, Ennis

All sorts of sports, including tennis.

You can pose

I suppose

Vogue

Vogue

Feed your ego

My amigo

Let your proudness flow.

Like you did long ago.

You only need to use your gift

To give yourself that telling lift.

Just get up there and make things dance;

Just do nothing, you’ve no chance.

It makes no difference if you’re short or tall,

You can always have a ball.

If you want

You can be just like me.

But do what you want,

I’m off for a

Pina Colada.

Paul Butters

© PB 29\05\2014 in Yorkshire.

Due thanks to Madonna and Shep Pettibone who wrote the original lyrics.

Linguistic Lusciousness

(Picture Credit - Elizabeth Smith on Pinterest)

I love linguistic lusciousness,

While lounging on my laptop here.

These words that flow and flush the forest floors:

Iambic tetrameters and pentameters,

Trochees and dactyls too.

Enough of that: founts of feeling

Count the most.

Imagination running wild;

Persistent perceptions that never pale.

Visions of the future,

Parodies of the past.

Just give me my laptop

And let my fingers dance.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\5\1952 (my birthday) in Yorkshire.