life to live
taken in strides  collected moments
reveals many sides
ah the life in the brain
turning me  where do I go
what is the need to for-fill
the dark n  beautiful
her libido her pen
where I run up [and  around]
its the freedom of will
to be or not to be
drenched to the bone
I miss my grammar school
I still remember all [of their names]
the Earth rounder
fame fame fame
I am at the wall
humanity a no where run
from self or the gun
now in my hands    to expose
the nature of nothing
proud of my 8 legs
I meander over  terrain
my life is my all or nothing
love poems fit
the life on Earth   so temporary
thank you your work   extra ordinary
A tri-angle   spot
          gjmars5/19

The Laws of Physics say
That Everyone Dies
And is Gone:
Every blade of grass, insect, man and woman.
Every sentient being.
From Big Bang to Big Whatever.
They all Die.

Yet is there more than this?
Something of the spirit.
More than ghosts
And poltergeists.
An afterlife
In Heaven.
Another Realm.

Some say that when you die
You re-join The One Being,
Let’s call it “God”.

Your individuality may be gone,
But you become part of that Super-Consciousness,
The One,
And thus Remain.

The logic of this is frightening:
It means that I am part of God,
Just going through a phase
We call Life,
In readiness for
For Ever.

You too are part of God
And logic dictates
That I am my own Mum and Dad,
My sister, friends and everyone else:
Mother Theresa, ******, Shakespeare
And Eddie The Eagle.

I am a wasp, a lion, a dolphin, a tree
Maybe even a germ.
Another poet
Commenting on my poems.
I’m even You.

Better get on with it then.
I’ve got plenty to do!

Paul Butters

I have two T times.
One nourishes solitude
When I sip on the lip
Of my favourite cup.

One feeds the need
Of companionship
As we drive towards
My favoured cup.

help me find the paper
with the poem i need
it's a simple piece of paper
with a poem that must be freed
i am asking for my readers
not for want or greed
help me find the paper
and what i write...you'll read

right now, there's nothing on it
it's as empty as can be
i looked inside my closet
and no paper did i see
i found one under a bonnet
but, it wasn't one for me
the missing poem might be a sonnet
can't you help me find it please

the words i have aren't in my head
it's the paper brings them out
until the pen hits paper
i don't know what it's about
once the poem is finished
i can then stand up and shout
i found the piece of paper
this is the one.....no doubt

help me find the paper
with the poem i need
it's a simple piece of paper
with a poem that must be freed
i am asking for my readers
not for want or greed
help me find the paper
and what i write...you'll read

I get weak
Thinking
About weeks.
For example:
1300 weeks = 1 generation;
2080 weeks = a work life;
4420 weeks = a lifetime.
Don't squander 1 week
Worrying about
Next week,
It makes one weak.

Tall avenue trees, so lush, standing either side of the road,
heads bend inwards playfully, to touch foreheads together,
were  in a blooming contest, a riot of colors wherever one turns,
no wonder, remember, this is Bangalore, the city of countless gardens.

The noon sun eager to  join  the mirth, is generous with light,splash
over the flowers of many hues, violet, red, butter white, yellow,
and the many shades of green of the thick crown foliage make,
with a rare delight, never displayed, in any other time of the day.

A midday lull pervades, very few people on the street,he was
relishing the mood, smiling to himself,but the lone girl, full of cheer
walking towards him, decided to respond, with equal fervor,
just then, a sudden wild wind shook the trees, as if it was pre -arranged
causing a shower of pollen,drenching her all over, she stood stunned,
in response he ran forward, hoping to rid her of the profusion of pollen,
what  at that moment she needed was a hug; he gave it to her quick,
they stood looking eye to eye, certain dreams happen in broad day light
even forgetting that one is awake;before they realized they became
day light robbers, robbing each other's heart, in an idyllic moment,