Coral Cove

(Picture Credit - Flickr com)

Forests of coral adorn the rocky ocean floor,

Sheltered here in this sky-blue lagoon.

See the golden sand, shining through the still waters,

Fringed by plumes of palm.

The warming sun is smiling,

Flanked by fluffy white clouds.

Gulls are calling

Over the whispering sea.

A tropical paradise

Punctuated only

By impromptu showers.

Those colourful corals

Swarmed with teeming fish

Of every hue.

This is the place

To be.

 

Paul Butters

A Wider View

(Picture by NASA)

If God exists

He or She knows All

Is Everywhere

And Everywhen

And lives beyond

Space and Time.

For so it is to be a God.

 

She is far too great

To concern herself

With this grain of sand

Lost in the vastness of our Multiverse.

 

Our words can’t hurt Her,

Maybe make Her smile at most,

Even as we take Her name in vain.

Our petty squabbles

Are but fights

Amongst the ants.

 

She Loves all Life,

Though some be sacrificed at times

For the Greater Good.

 

I ask you all

To open your mind

And see us through Her eyes.

She cannot want us

To martyr ourselves

Or kill those who are different

In race or creed.

 

She will not give us Heaven

If we sacrifice our lives

To kill Her creatures

That she made

With such magnificent grace.

 

Above all else She is a Loving God,

Cherishing ALL that Lives.

Forget the ancient histories

Of warring and strife.

NOW is where we are,

And now is the Time

For Love.

 

Paul Butters

The Way

There is no need for all this strife,

All that’s required is Love of Life.

Religions and philosophies all seek Good,

Trying to get us out of this wood.

All you need is Love, The Beatles said,

So let’s put Evil and Hatred to bed.

 

Christian, Muslim or worshipping Buddha,

Atheist, Humanist, Taoist, Shinto, Hindu, Wiccan or any other,

It doesn’t matter for you are my Brother.

We’re all the same in God’s loving eyes

(Whether you believe or not)

From mighty whales to tiny flies.

 

Tigers bite and wasps do sting,

But each of them is a black and gold thing.

Life is precious in every form,

We all get beaten by that storm.

 

Give us a wormhole and we will find

Countless exoplanets that’ll blow your mind.

In the swathe of the universe we are but a speck,

Prepare yourself for an endless Star Trek.

 

But first we need to put our own Earth right,

And now it’s such a sorry sight.

Having technology is all very well

If all you can make is our version of Hell.

The human mind is far behind I hate to say,

We have to find the Loving Way.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 25\8\2015.

Sound

(Picture Credit - Chicenter com)

A poem is built with sounds

Liberally littered with alliteration

Rhyming reason

Aspiring assonance

Up metaphorical mountains.

 

Each letter plays its part.

A cast of cascading chords

Making mystical music

For the discerning ear.

 

Operatic musicals from the Muse:

A crescendo of noise

Or sometimes

Whispers in the winnowing wind.

 

I write because I must,

Because I need to

In answer to

The Call.

 

Paul Butters

Sun

(Photo Credit - Vitalsurge com)

The Sun’s beaming smile

Bathes the plains with gold.

Lord of the heavens,

Circled by your sons

We call planets,

Your searing heat

Keeps us warm

And well.

 

I love the summer

With those shiny beaches:

Radiant reflections

Kissed by sky-blue surf.

 

Sun, you are a surge of nuclear bombs

Devastating the darkness,

Destroying the frosts of outer space.

 

Blindingly beautiful

Yet you redden evening clouds:

Red sky at night delight

Indeed.

 

Ball, orb, sphere, call you what you will,

Sol if you prefer.

The pale moon mimics you

Even blocks you at times,

But you are never eclipsed for long.

 

The sky is your playing field

Though the starry crowd is hidden

From your fiery light.

 

See the sky brighten

Just before dawn,

Then witness the birth

Of another fine day.

 

Paul Butters

To Be

 

(Picture Credit - Morethanasunday faith com)

I will be,

Or I will not be,

When I die.

The logic goes.

More likely the latter,

But who knows?

 

The Bard was right:

A simple choice

Between

What is

And what isn’t.

 

Unless you take the Spiritual View

Or even

Reincarnation.

 

What might I come back as?

I have to ask.

A lion or an Ant?

 

Is everything a dream?

Or just some Godly idea

Of a Joke?

 

The Truth

We Seek.

 

Paul Butters

Holy Spirit

(Picture Credit - Pentecost by Jacqui on Swordofthespiritnet)

The Laws of Physics say

That Everyone Dies

And is Gone:

Every blade of grass, insect, man and woman.

Every sentient being.

From Big Bang to Big Whatever.

They all Die.

 

Yet is there more than this?

Something of the spirit.

More than ghosts

And poltergeists.

An afterlife

In Heaven.

Another Realm.

 

Some say that when you die

You re-join The One Being,

Let’s call it “God”.

 

Your individuality may be gone,

But you become part of that Super-Consciousness,

The One,

And thus Remain.

 

The logic of this is frightening:

It means that I am part of God,

Just going through a phase

We call Life,

In readiness for

For Ever.

 

You too are part of God

And logic dictates

That I am my own Mum and Dad,

My sister, friends and everyone else:

Mother Theresa, Hitler, Shakespeare

And Eddie The Eagle.

 

I am a wasp, a lion, a dolphin, a tree

Maybe even a germ.

Another poet

Commenting on my poems.

I’m even You.

 

Better get on with it then.

I’ve got plenty to do!

 

Paul Butters