Waxing Lyrical

 

Time to wax lyrical,

Time to shout from the rooftops,

My words rolling like thunder

Across the whole wide world.

 

No mardy moods

Or negative vibes.

Time to replace killing with care

Hatred with love

Tree chopping and ploughing

With planting and wild growth.

 

Let emotion sing as music

Love and care

Musical words

Called poems.

 

What are we doing?

What are we doing with our planet

And it’s folk?

Aliens from other worlds might ask

And wonder whether to intervene.

 

Re-education is required

Getting us back to the ways

Of Mother Earth.

Teaching us to let go

Of our egos

Our lust for mere goods

And territorial land-grabbing.

It’s not what you have

But what you make of it

 

We only live once

And not for very long

So I say again

Love life

All life

From the tiniest ant

To the loftiest tree.

Enjoy a giraffe

And savour the aroma

Of a bower surrounded by flowers.

 

Let’s grow more forests

Teeming with life

Clothed in mysterious mists.

 

Unite together

To end poverty

And strife

Cease all wars

Treat everyone with respect

As equals

All free

All loved equally.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 29\11\2023.

Multiverse

 

 (Picture Credit - Tufts Now com)

 

Some say we all live in a “Multiverse” –

A myriad of universes

All parallel to one another

Invisible to us

Apart from our own universe

Wondrous as it is.

 

So in some other universe there is

Another version of yourself,

Where you turned right at some junction

Instead of left

And had a serious accident

Instead of winning the lottery.

Or nothing much happened

Or Everything.

 

Even my own fertile imagination

Is floored

By the endless possibilities here.

My mind is truly boggled

Fit to explode.

 

For every tiny insect in our universe

Might fly right

Or left

Or not at all

To thus create another universe.

 

I could write an epic poem on this.

To think that somewhere out there

I may be Immortal, or a King, or Rock Star

Or even about to be Executed

If not already dead.

And you might be these things too.

 

Versions of ourselves might live in universes

That echo those of fiction

In worlds such as Narnia, Middle Earth

And that of Star Trek, Star Wars

And Stargate SG One

To name but a few.

 

Oh to have a TV Remote

Like the fictional “Sliders”

To take us from this realm

To any other of our choice.

Or a “Uniscape”:

A machine like a Tardis

Which can take us to any place

Or time

Or universe

Or Other Multiverse???

 

My head is aching now.

My mind explodes

Like The Universe

And The Multiverse

Or Multiverse of Multiverses.

So I’d better stop

Before this becomes an epic

And my head explodes.

 

But, meanwhile, in another universe

I didn’t stop!!!

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 18\9\2023.

Jungle Juice

 

All these vultures hovering around their prey:

Three golden prizes

Who will get there first?

Cue David Attenborough on commentary!

Coupled and single lions

Prowling about

Waiting for the chance of food and drink.

 

That coffee takes ages.

Coffee?

Yes, for this is my local

And my pack and I

Are thoroughly enjoying our ale

With our lovely lunches

Served to us by beautiful barmaids.

 

Those golden prizes are the three front tables

From where you can see the golden sand:

On a beach

Dotted with distant tiny people

As some frolic in the estuary waves

On paddle boards,

Basking in the glorious sun.

Time for another pint.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 2\9\23.

Just Once

 

(Picture Credit-Barbara Sheidy: Beautiful-Point Blogspot Com)

I will only do this once

Walk down Pudsey Hill late one night

Admiring the stars

After seeing friends.

Walk anywhere one specific time

Or admire a particular glorious sunset

Every one being unique

In its blend of beautiful reds, blues, purples

And other hues.

 

So we have to make the most of Now

Be mindful indeed,

For there will be a time

When we can sense no more.

 

Mortality is certain.

Even the very plants are living on soil

Made from the remains of their ancestors.

And we eat the plants

And eat eaters of the plants.

Ashes to ashes indeed.

You know the rest.

 

But green living things live on

Making oxygen

For those yet to germinate and grow

Or be born.

Winter is soon followed by Spring.

Destruction by Creation.

An almost endless cycle

In the bosom of Mother Earth.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 9\8\2023.