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I love music
But can only sing flat.
And I can’t play musical instruments
With their baffling array of keys or strings.
So, I try to write music with words.
For I also love to write.

Distant misty hills beckon my soul
To fly amongst banks of swirling clouds
Then up into the stars.

The impossible mystery of infinity intrigues me:
Beyond, beyond, beyond, beyond…
Endless stories unfold before us
(Yes, you can come too!)
Eternity that has no horizon.

I love to love
My love,
For love makes the world go round
Or so I heard.
I love all plants and animals
And people too:
All that Mother Multiverse has spawned
And reared.

Love is all we need
They sang
And they were right.
So let’s get loved up
With lorra loving.
Feel that love.

For that’s why I write.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\2\2020.
Back to Free Verse!!!
Time to rhyme and shine
All will be fine
Give me some wine

I rarely do rhyming lines
Prefer lines of rhymes
Rhymes within those lines
“Internal rhyme”
At least in this time line.

The summer sun has been summoned
So don’t be glum there in your slum
Ignore the ****, have some *** and chat with mum
But don’t be dumb and talk with a plumb
Strum that guitar with your fingers or thumb
Let that music hum
Watch them scrum for a crumb.

Just can’t wait to get into a transcendental state
From words that have some weight
To lead us through the gate
To poetic heaven

Paul Butters

© PB 4\2\2020.
Poetic Heaven
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
 Apr 2020 Steve McNutt
Meera
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
 Apr 2020 Steve McNutt
CRH
You always said I talked too much.

And while I certainly
don't think most people of at least
a reasonable degree of competency would
be inclined to disagree, it just seems
to me that you were thinking
about it all wrong.

Perhaps the real
problem was not my tendency to
speak loudly and with great frequency
but rather it was the inferiority
of your listening abilities,
or lack thereof.

You see, I wouldn't
need to constantly dwell and
reiterate and repeat if you would have
been able to conceive  even momentarily
that there was reasoning tucked between
the seams of my stories that I kept
waiting for you to find.

I wanted to give you
chances repeatedly to display some
needed empathy and to meet even my
most basic needs or, **** it, just common
decency but all requests were met
selfishly and I think its time
to leave it behind.

I am ready to breathe
regularly and sleep without the haunting
dreams and stick to it this time without relapsing.
I am ready to finally start resisting picking up the phone
when you inevitably decide you are feeling a little too lonely
and know that you can always count on me to be too
desperate and too weak to waste an opportunity
to speak because you always said
I talked too much.

I hope I am finally running out of things to say.
I am a glutton for punishment and also assonance.  I know this is definitely not my best work but it was fun to write.  

What's the point of being a poet if we can't find a way to create from the heartache?
Don’t ask me to pass the assonance assessment
Or time my rhyming to make you smile.
Alliterative pieces I’m proud to produce
After pondering, my pretty person.

No I’d rather be free
When I write poetree (lol).
Must write with meaning,
So don’t be demeaning,
Even if you are screaming.

Existence, God, Love, People –
They’re what I write about.
Oft without form.
Just enjoy.

Gorgeous gold glory starts the story
That ends with a tune under the moon…

Paul Butters

© PB 20\9\2015.
Yet another early-morning poem born from working words in my head.
Time
Is relative,
Pain is not;
How seamless
We pass through moments
Yet how entrenched
In the wallowing
Swallowing echo
Of a bitter cry in the wilderness
Flowers bloom,
Glisten and grow
And then wilt in the end;
Yet the one that brought them to me
Is here until
The last sun sets
Flowers love feelings reassurance
 Apr 2020 Steve McNutt
Megan H
Always put a smile on my face
Under every circumstance
These wonderful children
I've been blessed to be around
So much they've taught me
Mostly, love does not always need words.
I work with children with Autism, and they are honestly so amazing. Some of them are nonverbal but they show their love in some amazing ways!
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