Memorable

 (Picture Credit - Meyer Vacation Rentals)

Whatever you write, make it memorable.

Just as memorable as Ivan the Terrible.

No need to be incredible

Just make those words indelible

From that mind of yours

And also theirs of course.

I used to think that rap

Was not very good.

Haha.

But now I see

Those rhymes so right for me,

And even raps that scan.

Yeah Man!

There’s always time

For a rhyme

Sublime.

Just let them chime.

These rhymes they staple things to your brain

To help you remember every refrain.

Things passed on by word of mouth

From Arctic regions right down to The South.

Remember, remember

That month of November.

Something that sticks

With each dying ember.

Keep aware of the power of words,

As musical as a flock of birds.

Do give in to the urge to write,

To make our day so gloriously bright.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\1\2020 (2). From jottings of 7\1.

Let's Go

(Picture Credit - All Blacks from Curias)

Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.

Let’s have a really great show.

Let’s fly just like an arrow,

Faster than a sparrow.

We know we are the best.

Let’s put it to the test.

Prove we are worthy champions

From The South Pole to the Grampians.

Just see our motivation:

Our hope is our foundation.

We’re full of self belief

And going to cause some grief.

We know we are so great.

To play we cannot wait.

Once more unto the breach:

A win’s within our reach.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\1\2020. From a diary jotting 7\1.

Remnant

(Picture Credit - Daily Star)

We watch from space

Safe in our spaceship

As a small rock planet,

That has orbited it’s star

Over seven and a half billion times –

All those billions of its years –

Is peeled away

And eaten

By that very sun

That gave it birth.

Two and a half billion years before,

This star ran dry of hydrogen

And grew

From yellow dwarf to red giant.

Now, nothing is left of three of its worlds,

All engulfed by flame

As the sun grew

Into a giant ball of death.

All history is gone.

Nothing to show

For countless civilisations

That adorned the third planet.

But oh what’s this?

We spot a tiny spacecraft!

Must reel it in.

Examine it.

It has a name:

“Voyager 1”

Inside: a Golden Disc!

A Golden Record.

We can play it.

Images of hairless bipeds.

Ancestors from that third planet.

Sounds of animals and someone laughing.

Images of bipeds taking sustenance.

And best of all

More sounds

Of something called “Rock Music”:

A being called “Chuck Berry”

“Singing a song” called “Johnny B. Goode”.

For we have feet too

And it makes them tap.

Paul Butters

© PB 12\12\2019.

Joe Public

He lounges in his armchair

Sucking on a fag

And quaffing beer.

His eyes are glued to the telly,

Watching Corrie

Then footie

Before heading off to the pub.

He feels he’s earned his basic pleasures

As he checks his mobile

For emails and Tweets

And Facebook posts.

Comforts earned by slaving away

All day

For some faceless bureaucrat

Hidden away in his company’s

Ivory tower.

For this is Joe Public.

Ignore him at your peril.

He has lots and lots of mates.

And he is fed up of the “Nanny State”

With it’s, “You shouldn’t do this”

And , “You shouldn’t (or should) do that”.

He’s fed up too with the PC Brigade

Having already escaped the “God Squad”.

But he’s bloody angry

At simply being ignored.

You can keep Joe happy

With Celebrity and Social Media

And sport

And even “Pointless Quizzes”.

He avoids Education

To maintain his “Street Cred”.

But there will come a point

When he’s had enough.

And once that happens

His festering grievances

Will surface

Like killer sharks.

And if he joins a mob of like-minded souls

Who knows where that may lead?

Perhaps to Revolution.

So think on, my friend.

Take care of Joe.

Indeed of Every Joe.

For Joe could be

The Most Important Person

In The World.

Paul Butters

© PB 30\11\2019.