Right now I’m alive
For now.
How long will I thrive?
Don’t know.

For most of Eternity
I’ll be dead.
Such is Mortality
It’s said.

Let me meditate on that.
Let me contemplate the moment.
Sitting on my mat
Dreaming a romant.

Yes I’m alive
Of that I’ve no doubt.
But where’s my drive?
I must have a scout…

Been to Tenerife and Malta
Scotland and Wales.
Never Gibraltar,
Few travelling tales.

But I’m not a roamer,
Rather stay at home.
Yes ever the homer,
And often alone.

My laptop and telly
Are all that I need.
Give me Keats and Shelley
For a good read.

So it’s right in the Now
I really must stay
No why, who or how
To darken my day.

No thoughts of the past
Or dreams of the future.
Make each second last,
Turn off that computer.

This moment has gone,
Now that you’re reading.
Let’s have another one,
That’s where I’m leading.

For now never lasts,
That we all know.
It’s lost in our pasts,
No longer on show.

I try here to paint
What has been and gone.
An attempt to create
The eternal song.

Paul Butters

I tie threads to my eyelids
Pushing them down,
Shutting them for the day,
Putting myself to sleep.

One eye bats, then the other; perhaps together,
But they never fully close.
The sclera shines and lines like the sea waves’ froth.
I rest my head, curled-up in bed
While the words begin to follow
And I ask myself
“Should I get up and write or just let it go?”

The right eye whispers,
“Sleep, poor *****, let’s write when the sun shines tomorrow,”
But the impatient left, stares hard and says,
“What if you forget it all with the morning sorrow?”

So I gather the thoughts on my pillow,
Grab a paper and a pen; they say “hello!”
I write my own lullaby,
Scribble and sigh,
Oh, it’s just another sleepless night,
But I feel alive
Because I write, I write,
Oh I write.

My past haunts me
My future taunts me

But when I'm with you

I'm at peace
And it's weird
But wonderful
All at the *same time