Sing me back home
to where I need to be
sing me a tune of my
memories
tell me a story
of saddened goodbyes
whisper
a melody of tears
that we've cried

belt out the words
with no holdin' back
I need reminders
to get me on track
takin' the old worn
railroad bed
hummin' along
with the ones in my head

Chorus-
Oh.. how I long to hear
that lonesome whistle blow
as a haunting old sounds will recall
remind me of how
it all faded away
as each passin' moment
remind me of gladness
sung just yesterday
where I left my heart....
behind

kindly paint me a picture
of each Broken Heart
torn down the middle
in a red Jagged line
color the shades
in a envious green
crooning blue ink
my heart
to remind

Oh... remind me...,

yesterday's dreams
and promises broken
open my ears to
the sounds of Goodbye
force me to listen
to people I'm hurtin'
watch every tear
as it drops when they cry

Chorus
Oh... how I long ...
to listen
as Sweet Singin' Tunes
will recall
lovely ol' footsteps
of children
dancin' in summer
down vacant Halls
remind me of how
it all faded a-way
of how I got here
with each passing day
hangin' on evr'y word
that you say
whisper
in words
with smilin'  faces
as my mind returns
as it's slowly
retracin'...

and I .....
remember.... when.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Dream on, my friend,
Like me.
Of a future Heaven on Earth,
Or even just a Heaven.

Peace to all Men,
And Women.
Nor more starvation,
Disease
Or Death.

A Paradise in full bloom.
Endless forest, savannas and parklands
Ringed by towering mounts.
Habitats for countless species:
Humanity united with Mother Nature.

Trivial pleasures too.
Leeds United World Champions.
British wins at Wimbledon.
Another World Cup win.

Girls Aloud joining me,
For a fish and chip tea.
More medals in Rio,
Than we got in twenty twelve.

Crank up that warp drive,
Or better still,
Open up that Uniscape
So we can go
Into a parallel universe
Of our choice.

A realm where fiction becomes fact.
Where Captain Kirk is real
And Shatner just a character
On TV.

Where Telletubbies really watch us,
And Father Christmas truly shows his face.
Golden pavements are mere trifles,
And God gives us his grace.

We have to keep on dreaming.
Our hopes must never die.
Just simply keep on dreaming,
No need to reason why.

Paul Butters

© Paul Butters 27\10\2012 (2) in Yorkshire.

At the outset of a variable weather day
Sunlight spangles danced in the skies above
Was such a brilliance of radiant beams
As mid afternoon drew closer a change did arrive
In the grey smudged clouds rolled
Replacing the bright morn's festival

Whereupon came a moistening festival
Raindrops fell for the rest of the day
Down the damp quenching rolled
The billows unloading from high above
Which farmers were gladdened to see arrive
Their worried brows begat more calming beams

Fields lush in verdant vibrant green beams
The wetting so joyous of a happy festival
Dutiful was the timely drink's arrive
A difference made within a single day
Welcome were the heavy showers gifted above
Pasture lands looking minted and gold rolled

The reverse clime's dices had been rolled
Water storages filled with streaming beams
Such a gracious endowment up above
Unto landholders giving a grand festival
Altering the complexion of the day
Providence surrendered on needed arrive

A goodly amount of thirst saving did arrive
On the dark masses prospect being rolled
There was an improved outlook to the day
Ever men of acreage seek hopeful beams
So they can enjoy a precipitation festival
Wishing upon the receipt in clouds above

In their thoughts what is happening above
When will the heaven's bestowments arrive
Always championing the dowsing's festival
Then for them soils ideally bank rolled
On conditions being sated so nicely of beams
Will the soaking occur on this day

Festival glee awaited in the atmosphere above
Day did dawn with a dazzling sun's arrive
Rolled by the promise of eve's drenching beams

Assonance was ensconced in my bonce once.
It puts me in the mood for a muse.
Love those cool peaceful pools under a Moon in June.
Or to croon about dunes and oasis blooms.
Such a lovely tune,
It’ll make you swoon.

Enjoy my runes,
No matter how crude.
I can be a goon
Or even a loon.
Sometimes a fool.
Poems strewn with clichés
For want of a better phrase.

Words hewn before noon,
To give you a boon.

Bad days may loom,
Injustices done.
Cruelty that’s is fuel for a duel and may ruin a life.
We may be doomed.

But I must stay upbeat,
Give you a treat
And make you fall at my feet.
Quite a feat!

Every dog has his day,
Another cliché you’ll say.
But I don’t get any pay,
So soon be on my way.

Love to play with words,
Writing songs for the birds.
These words are a tool
For making me cool.

We’re back to those pools:
They are shimmering jewels.

Paul Butters