Midsummer

(Picture Credit - Summer by UCLA Writers)

Summer sun surrounds us.

Those icy biting winds are long forgotten.

We’re smothered by sultry, moisture-laden air.

A cooling breeze

Cuts through the verdant smell of fresh-mown grass.

The kids are playing:

Shouting loud.

Flock birds twitter,

What a crowd!

Those early mists give way to sun,

And wispy high-clouds stain the blue.

A happy sky to oversee our fun,

With sun to highlight every hue.

The Summer Solstice has been and gone

And nights will soon be getting long.

But it’s still hot I hear you say,

Who cares if thunder’s on the way.

We pay for sun with thunderstorms:

In Britain the weather soon transforms.

Yet now it’s time to cease the day;

I’d better send you on your way.

Paul Butters

Love Poem

Love

(Picture Credit - John Lennon by Factmag com)

Postscript - The Word is the essence of poetry. John knew.

Paul Butters

Force

(Picture Credit - Mother Nature by Likethedew)

There is a Force throughout the Universe:

The Mother of Creation shows us so.

Those “Star Wars” writers were spot on:

Their “Force” reflects the truth, I know.

The Force has hidden depths beyond our dreams,

Full of Goodness and a Dark Side too.

Space and Time mean Nothing to this Force,

So we can’t track it to its Source.

All We can do is Hope and Pray

That we do Pass if there’s a Judgement Day.

Paul Butters

Communication

(Picture Credit - Ipad 3 Concept by Digitaltrends com)

For seventy or more years TV

And radio ruled the world,

Along with telephones.

But then computers made their mark,

Soon followed by mobiles, Smartphones,

Ipads, Bluetooth, Wifi and who knows what?

In no particular order.

So herds of sheep migrated

Into Cyberspace

Even Myspace!

Then on to Planet Facebook

And Terratwitter.

We talk with people we’ve never met,

And meet folk with whom we’ve never talked.

It keeps us occupied I guess,

And gives relief from stress.

These images that yet fresh images beget,

I’m sure Yeats would agree.

I tolerate these adverts flashing in my face

And soak up knowledge to my solid mental grace.

A world of wonders beckons in

The depths of Cyberspace,

And as a Nerd before they were invented,

I have to say I’ve truly found my place.

Paul Butters

Fiction Reality

(Picture Credit - Writing Articles by Dashinghub com)

Could it be that everything that is written creatively by anyone becomes a Reality somewhere out there in the fabric of Existence?

Think of it.

Every classic ever written is real in some dimension or other. Robinson Crusoe, Gulliver’s Travels, The Time Machine, Emma, Wuthering Heights… All played out somewhere in some universe.

Even Alice in Wonderland. Amazing but maybe true. A host of fiction realities.

Is our own Earth a fiction reality? Am I but a character in a story written by an author far far away?

Are all “Earthlings” fictional characters?

Maybe we will never know the answers to these questions.

Tantalising though they may be.

Yet maybe it’s more than this.

Perhaps what we write sometimes affects what happens in the reality that we believe we know.

Even what we think might have this effect. So beware negative thinking everyone. 

Think positive.

We will all live forever, with or without the resurrection.

There. 

Paul Butters

Ancestry

(Picture Credit - Apocalyptical by ezeedictionary com)

If Mankind perished:

Exterminated cataclysmically

Like the dragon dinosaurs,

How long would our cities stand?

How long before our cars rusted

And buildings toppled,

To leave the odd dam or pyramid

Poking through the tangled jungle mass?

A few hundred years they say.

Then nothing.

All gone.

Yet have such holocausts

Blighted Man before

Back through those swirling mists of time,

Thousands of years ago?



Great civilisations built by clever men and women,

Only to be dashed to the ground

By who knows what.

Atlantis and much more.

Advancement cruelly culled.

For Man,

Like the world,


Is much older than we thought

Or think.

Some say that aliens helped us build

Those ancient wonders.

Yet maybe we should cast away this

Self – effacing view:

Acknowledge that

We did it all

Ourselves.

Paul Butters