Thursday, 21 January 2021

Another Spring


 (Picture Credit - Shutterstock)

Sing out long and loud

Feel the joy around

Spring is on the way

Dawning of the day


Dawning of the year

Daffies nearly here

Thrusting through the ground

No longer earthbound


Bluebells and snowdrops too

With crocuses coming through

From bulbs hidden in the soil

Life is on the boil


The rhythm of life is changing

Always re-arranging

Looking to the summer

For winter made us glummer.


Looking forward with hope

Rose tinted telescope

I can hardly wait

For now I just anticipate.


Paul Butters


© PB 21\1\2021.


Inspired by “Times Like These” song, originally by Dave Grohl (of The Foo Fighters).

Sunday, 17 January 2021

Guilty Secrets


(Picture Credit - Psychology Today dot com)

We all carry Guilt.

Things we did

Or should have done.

Actions taken when red mist descended,

Hot blackness deep inside,

Or when we ran scared

Like a startled rabbit.


Sometimes we were just plain mean:

Doing things

Too bad to confess.

At times we “did our job”,

Knowing full well

That it was wrong.


We hate ourselves for what we did:

Adrenaline taking over

As we exploded and lashed out.

Cruel acts and gutting dumpings:

Things best unsaid.


But no good beating ourselves up.

No point blaming ourselves

For things we did as callow youths.

We cannot always help

What we do.

To err is human,

As they say.


We all have our flaws and demons:

Personality defects and fears.

Some have  anger issues

And autistic traits.

Fear of commitment,

Emotional dimness

And many other such things.

Stuff of heartbreak

And sorrow.


I, for one, never did relationships –

Just didn’t understand

What they were about.

So I was bound to do wrong



All stuff for lyrics of songs:

Songs of drifting apart

And breaking up.

Material mounting into Everests

Of angst.


But worry not.

We are not alone.

For evil acts,

Trouble and strife,

Division and violent clashes:

They all seem to be the general way

In these trying

Modern times.


Plenty to work on

In our collective quest

For Peace,

Including peace of mind.


Paul Butters


© PB 17\1\2021.


(Poem inspired by watching a recording of “Top of the Pops New Year 2021 Special”).

Friday, 15 January 2021


 (Picture Credit - Dreamstime dot com)

You pose and pout,

Seduction by superficial sauciness.

You tell me of your day

With that simpering voice,

Raising each last word

Long and loud.


You show me your flash cars,

Your sumptuous wardrobe

And who knows what else?


You and your kin call yourselves “Influencers” –

A great word,

But all you do is make people:

People who have grafted long and hard

For a little spare cash,

Go buy things they

Do not really need.


Right Said Fred was Right:

The global catwalk

Is a sham.


I too would love to be an “Influencer”,

Such a fine word,

But I would be one to encourage folk

To Love others,

Stop all this Conflict

Between polar opposites and extremes,

Fight only for the Common Good,

And make the world a better place

For All.


Paul Butters


© PB 15\1\2021.

Friday, 8 January 2021

Covid Lockdown Three


The World is all forlorn

As New Covid is born.

Time to frown,

We are getting locked down.


Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine

We hear your cavalry bugle call.

Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine

If you don’t work, the writing’s on the wall.


So many dead, it’s hard to bear,

So much menace in the air.

Everyone tired of this stuff,

So many folk having it rough.


One Lockdown was very tough

Having three is more than enough.

Children getting schooled at home

By parents who are on the dole.


Americans fight amongst themselves,

Instead of putting food on the shelves.

Brits have been distracted by Brexit,

Arguably a mistimed exit.


Last March I asked

Will this last a year?

Well the time is coming –

It’s getting near.


That vaccine surely gives us hope

But where’s our second jab?

No more playing rope a dope,

This chance we have to grab.


No jab at all for me,

As I am sixty eight.

I’ll have to wait and see

But am prepared to wait.


Paul Butters


© PB 8\1\2021. First two lines by Norman Stevens.