Me and You

(Picture Credit - Red Head Reading by WSAP Academy)

I’m The One,

But so are You.

It all depends

On your point of view.

I write,

You read.

I sow

The seed.

No love songs

You will get from me.

Nothing sentimental:

Bull-dropping free.

We share this world

You and I.

Together we can

Reach the sky.

Your imagination I will seek

To fire.

Whenever I can,

I will inspire.

Well, dear Viewer-Reader,

It’s time to go.

I hope you enjoyed

This “Poetry Show”.

Paul Butters

First Love

(Picture Credit - Students by ExploreYourDegree com)

It started when she said Hello

Over forty years ago.

She was the only one to do so I suppose.

My heart was twanged

And I wanted her so bad.

Still it pains me so today,

I couldn’t find the words to say.

All I got was unrequited-love sick blues.

I couldn’t eat a thing

For weeks on end.

At a party she sat alone,

Seemingly aloof,

‘Til someone else stepped in...

Hindsight says she didn’t like me anyway:

She criticised my teenage spots

And the way I danced.

I wasted so much time on her,

Spurning others for my senseless crush.

Giving up only when her long distance boyfriend appeared.

Since then I’ve always guarded

Against getting emotionally involved

Before being socially involved.

It has been said that I’m aloof,

Staying on the fringe,

Avoiding commitment.

You have to take that risk

They say,

There is no other way.

I’ve seen the pain that “Love” can bring,

Romantic songs I will not sing.

I’d rather stay here on the shelf,

Peacefully living with myself.

Paul Butters

Lazy Sunday

(Picture Credit - Marc Anthony Lounging by Brownplanet com)



Ease your way

Into Sunday,

Monday’s here soon enough.

Friday’s best,

Time to rest,

The week was tough.

 

Boozeday Tuesday is okay

I must say

And Table Tennis Thursday ain’t bad too.

Wednesday’s fish and chips are yummy –

They fill my tummy,

Washed down with a brew.

 

I love Saturday sport,

Who would have thought

I’d get set in my ways?

Such is my week,

Hardly unique,

But on Sunday I laze.

 

Paul Butters

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