Play Day

(Picture Credit - Games Blog)

Spoon me some soothing sounds.

Make me swoon though it’s not even June.

Croon beneath the moon

Amongst flowers in bloom.

For summer soon will loom.

Heat will hit us:

Boom!

No more gloom and doom.

See the Peacock’s plume.

Toast the bride and groom.

People passing from womb to tomb.

A Spring-cleaning broom

To clean the room.

What a boon.

A beach with many a dune,

Behind a cool lagoon.

Time to play another soothing tune.

Let dormant corms awaken

In the warm

Before the storm

While insects swarm.

Let babes be born

To fields of corn

In the early morn.

Blow your horn,

Your hair all shorn

Wearing nothing torn or worn.

Such fun to play with words like this.

For me it’s like a blissful kiss.

Not a thing to find remiss,

Or lightly dismiss,

Miss.

Well that’s the end of all my play.

So that will do,

At least for today.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\4\2018.

Tall Trees

(Picture Credit - 123RF com)

Tall trees swaying in the breeze

As colourful flowers adorn cool bowers.

Sylvan beauty everywhere,

So good to see, so great to share.

Pastoral pallets, if that makes sense.

Lofty mountains, jungles dense.

Mother Nature reigns Supreme,

But all I want is some ice cream.

Scorching Summers, don’t we love them?

All our troubles, let’s rise above them.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\4\2018. First two lines written 13\4\2018.

Springtime

(Picture Credit - Inell Baden)

We walk through a desert:

Bone dry and sterile,

For mile after mile.

Trudging endlessly

Through emptiness.

But then we see it!

A tiny stalk

Forcing through the claggy sand.

Life!

Nature so determined

To break through

Anything.

Giving us Hope

Of better things.

And sure enough: we find there’s more and more

Until we are surrounded

By lush green trees.

Spring is just like this.

Hardy plants pushing through the soil.

Tight buds that slowly open

As Mother Nature wakens

From her icy slumbers.

Hope gives way to warmth

As Winter is banished

At last

For another year.

Spring is such a time of promise.

Looking forward to summer days,

Lounging in the sun.

We enjoy our Easter eggs

In the knowledge

That Whitsuntide is coming,

And then the “Summer Hols”.

It’s time to smile.

Paul Butters

© PB 7\4\2018.

Playing Out Time

(Picture Credit - Unsplash)

People playing out time.

They work all day

Doing mundane jobs.

Passively watch the telly

And play on their mobile phones.

Week in week out:

Same routine,

With the odd break.

So what is The Purpose

Of all this?

We have our struggles and strifes,

Our glorious wins –

All forgotten once we go.

Generation follows generation,

Each an essay

At the game of Life.

So I ask again,

What is The Purpose?

I’ve asked this most of my life.

All I can say,

Scratching my head,

Is that we are here just

To Appreciate

The Beauty

Of our Universe,

This World we call “Earth”

And all that Mother Nature

Creates.

We must meditate on this

And make more music.

Listen to our Muses

Then sing, paint, write, sculpt

Or whatever Art

We care

To flow

From our souls.

Amen.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\4\2018.