Tuesday 21 July 2020

Flight of Fancy



Let your mind’s eye fly forward
Right out the window
Through that faint reflection
Of your lounge.
Let it fly
Over those regulated blocks
We call estates
The ant city landscape
Then over the plains
To the sea.

Head to the far horizon,
Over the curve
Of The Earth
And on
Into blackest space.
Out by Pluto
Through Orion’s Belt
And The Milky Way.
Beyond Andromeda
And countless galaxy clusters.

Then look back
Towards our tiny blue marble.
Look back
At everything we know.
See how trivial
We humans
Really are.

Our world,
A tiny speck
Upon the canvas
Of the cosmos.
One grain of sand
Upon an infinite beach.

Then fly back home
But still remember
That the Glory of Existence
Is Everywhere
To be enjoyed
And cherished
While ever we live.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\7\2020.

Sunday 5 July 2020

Batty


 (Picture Credit - Bracken Cave Bats by Nat Geo for Kids)

They say this Covid Plague came from bats.
I picture a great black cave
Filled with bats
Crammed into the crannies –
Locust swarm sardines,
Those Covid spike-balls
Rubbing their hands with glee.

So what happens when Lockdown Eases?
Swarms of sheeples
Dancing in the streets
Squeezing together
In a booze fuelled frenzy
Just like those bats.

Except the bats remain sober:
They only do what they do
Knowing no other.
But We have no excuse.
We have the intelligence
To see
That this is wrong.
Yet we choose NOT
To act smart.

No, we risk all –
Risk a lonely breathless death
And anonymous incineration
Away from our friends and kin
Just for a boozy lash
Out on the crowded town.  

Will We ever Learn?
I’m afraid
It might be a long time coming.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\7\2020.

Friday 3 July 2020

Philistine Fred



You say that all poetry is gobbledygook:
That Art’s a waste of time
Elvis was just a Showman
And Freddie Mercury…
(Yes the same first name as you!)
…I’d better not say.

Where is your soul, Philistine Fred?
So many like you around.
Your mind cluttered with clinical facts,
Everything measured
And boxed –
Fastidious and precise.
Emotion killed
By setsquares
Set by Pythagoras
On a geometrical day.

You hate historical dramas
And all things learned.
Admitting any Education
Loses any street cred earned.
Stories are for dreamers
Yet you watch hours and hours
Of soaps.

You love supporting football teams
From places you’ve never been near.
But at least you like your pubs
For a lovely pint of beer.

I guess I’ll have to keep trying
To get through to you and your kind.
Yet I know some things ain’t possible
And you may never change your mind.

But yes I’ll keep on trying:
Keep banging out my poems –
Knowing that my pockets
Will never be lined with coins.

I know that you won’t read this,
But I will carry on.
For there are people out there
Who will listen to my song.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\7\2020.

(Partly Inspired by “How Do You Sleep” (1971) song by John Lennon.