We Have To Talk

We have to talk,

Talk right now

While the time is ripe.

It will be difficult

For both of us,

But we have to grab

The bull by the proverbial horns.

We’ve let things drift,

You and I.

We’re in a rut,

I hear you sigh.

We keep our secrets,

Both of us;

From one another,

There’s the rub.

A relationship stuck

In the mud.

Your loyalty questionable

I have to say.

Sorry if I’m wrong

But I must declare

I’m pretty sure

Your eyes are elsewhere.

I don’t know where to go with this.

If only we could “kiss

And make up” as they say.

But it’s not as easy as that.

We must come clean

With one another,

For what’s a relationship

Without trust

And honesty.

So

My friend

Just what is going on

Between us?

Or have we reached

The End?

Paul Butters

NB this poem is pure fiction, from my imagination.

© PB 30\9\2019.

September

(Image - Autumn Leaves Japan)

At five in a morning they scavenge about,

Punters at a car boot sale

Searching for bargains with torches.

Why the lights?

Because it’s still dark.

Why dark?

Because it’s SEPTEMBER.

September: the month when the kids go back

To school.

When bowls goes indoors,

Snooker starts;

Cricket draws to a close,

As bad light stops play.

Premiership football into its second month
And Rugby Superleague into the Playoffs.

Telly programmes that have run all summer

Grind to a halt

And Winter TV takes over.

“Question Time” is back

Along with parliament,

Though Boris soon closed it

This year!

The nights get longer,

Minute by minute

And soon those leaves will turn

That lovely golden hue:

Ironically the mark of Death.

Thoughts will soon be turned to Christmas

As we steel ourselves

For another Winter.

Halloween and Bonfire Night

Are coming soon.

This year we have “The Brexit Deadline”,

A new distraction

Drawing our eyes away

From the eternal passage

Of time.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\9\2019.

Life's Mystery

 (Picture Credit - Sunshine Pexels Photo)

The sun shines into my lounge:

Golden reflection

Making me feel good.

I glimpse blue skies

Through front and back

Windows.

There is something beyond all this.

Something going on.

I sense an atmosphere,

Smell the aroma of

A universal force:

An energy

Subtle

Surreal.

An all pervading mist

That permeates my life:

A haunting sense

Of spirit.

Something beyond.

We are but tiny chicks,

Covered and warmed

By mother’s wings

Soothed by ethereal music

And songs from heavenly choirs.

Whispers winnowed through those windows

While a hazy sun shines through.

For now I bask

Under the glow

Of that warming orb.

High thin swirling clouds

Tempering the heat.

All is peaceful

And serene today

As life’s long mystery

Drifts on.

Paul Butters

© PB 16\9\2019.