Streamings

 

(Picture from "Facebook" via Google)

My stream of consciousness is in full flow,

Tumbling down the page.

A cascade of words

Bouncing and foaming

Towards unknown seas.

 

No planning here.

No structure

Or direction.

Just meanderings

And oxbow lakes.

 

Free verse unfettered

By Draconian Rules

Or dogma.

Odd rhymes thrown in

Perhaps:

Casual confetti.

 

So what should I type about,

Sitting here in my armchair

In the silence of my lounge?

 

The sky is full of clouds

A blanket over this

September afternoon.

Perfect conditions

For composing this poem.

 

Should I put the world to rights?

(How long have you got?)

Or just indulge

In some uplifting visions?

 

I don’t do emotions very much.

The cork is firmly closed

On those.

Recall my early loves:

All unrequited.

Crushes

That crushed my very soul.

Memories of crying inside,

Unable to eat

Or think of anything except

That longing for love

Which never came.

 

So no

I don’t do emotions.

And seldom reveal myself

As I just did.

I’d rather let my imagination soar,

My eagle eye -

A soaring cliché –

Taking in the sweep of space

And everything below.

 

I see trees

And animals,

Mountains, coasts and oceans.

People milling about.

A scream of seagulls soars above the sea.

Waves crash:

A thundering tsunami

Against the brittle cliffs.

 

I have many voices.

From soft soothing lullabies

To grand orations

Full of pomp and splendour.

 

Music plays in my head:

A crescendo of orchestras

And songs.

Freddie, Elvis, Bassey

Clapton, Hendrix and Satriani.

Ginger Baker, Phil Collins.

 

Reciting poetry

Within my brain

Is easy

After Bohemian Rhapsody.

 

So once more to the beach dear friends

With Brian Wilson

And his crew.

Let Sloop John B be launched

Again

Heading for oceans new.

 

At last a rhyme

As attention spans begin to

Wane.

Enough for now

My loyal friends.

I’d best bid you

Adieu.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 4\9\2020. First 3 lines Written 16\8\20 in my big paper diary.

Genesis Update

(Picture Credit - PS Mag com)

In our Beginning God created this Universe.

It was during an Eterninfinity,

But old Moses didn’t go into that.

 

Now space was formless and empty,

Darkness reigned.

And God said

“Let there be matter”

And there was matter:

A singularity

Expanding faster and faster

To create material, movement and Time.

 

The early universe was a cloud

Of gas and dust

Enveloped in blackness.

So God said

“Let there be light”

And there was light

As the first star was born.

 

The universe expanded.

First generation stars

Made light elements

And later generations of stars

Produced heavier ones.

 

And the star we call The Sun

Was born

Mothering The Earth

Amongst other worlds.

The Earth:

A small ball of iron

And rock

Attended by a Moon.

 

The die was cast

Right at the start

The Formula was set

So Inevitably life appeared

Here on Earth

And here we are!

 

Evolution would not be possible

Without The Formula

Formed by God

Wherever S\he is.

 

Evolution is part of The Equation

I feel.

But what came before Genesis?

And how did God come to Be?

Does God have a God?

And that God his or her God?

For we just might be Lost

In a Multiverse

Within an Eterninfinity:

Courtesy of Lady Luck

And the roll of some Ethereal, Divine

Dice.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 20\8\2020.

Poetry Football

(Picture Credit - Tes)

 

As a typer of what might be

Poetry

I am a football manager

With WORDS as my players.

 

Words in a Deep W Formation –

Total free verse

Hopefully forming a diamond.

No buses parked here

As my words go winging

Down the page.

 

Not quite five three two

But maybe the odd Haiku

In syllables of five seven five –

For there are far more than eleven syllables

In Poetry.

 

All writers are the same:

Our words combining

To make meaning,

Passing our visions

Views and feelings

For a crowd of readers

All being well.

 

Words to be chanted

By crowds enchanted –

Songs for a stadium

That is our united mind.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 16\8\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.