The breathtaking wonders of the universe
Orgasmically explode:
Trillions of stars,
Blindingly bright
With black light.

Black?
Yes, as we can see
But a glimpse
Of their light.
So without US,
All is black
And might as well
Not exist.

We are Vital.
With Us at least
Some light is seen
And admired.
The wonders of our world
And sky
Are acknowledged
And felt
And thought about.

Yet who are “We”?
We are all sentient beings –
Not just humans:
All living things with brains
From ants to whales.

It’s worth remembering that.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\6\2020.

I told you so!
It must have been a blow
When she let you go.

I said from the start
She was a wicked ****
With an icy heart.

When will we learn?
Please don’t think I’m stern:
She should go to hell and burn.

It’s time to move on,
Sing a different song
Onto pastures new -
You know
What you have to do.

Right now you feel broken –
You know I ain’t joking.
Time will heal,
No matter how bad you feel.

Be more careful next time,
Don’t be the victim of crime.
Sure, you must risk being hurt
Before you can wear the shirt
Of someone loved so true
Just for being you.

Yes, I told you so,
But now you have to let go
And continue the show.

But please listen next time
We see any bad sign
And all should be fine.

Never give up –
You can drink from that cup.
She’s out there for you
And you know what to do.
Just do it.
As though you never blew it.
Rise as high as you can,
There’s a good man.

Paul Butters

© PB 10\6\2020.

Skeggy Lee, Skeggy Lee,
Oh what, oh, you do to me
My Skeggy
My Skeggy Lee hee-hee.
Well, I love that place
And that’s why I love you.

Skeggy Sea, Skeggy Sea
Sandy, sandy, sandy, sandy Skeggy (by the) Sea
Oh Skeggy, my Skeggy free
Oh well I love that place
So I need you Skeggy Lee.

I love you, Skeggy Lee
With a love so rare and true
Oh, Skeggy, Skeggy Lee
Well, I love you so
And I really do mean you.

Yes I love you so
And I want you Skeggy Lee.

Paul Butters

© PB 7\6\2020 (2).

(With due Credit to Buddy Holly’s “Peggy Sue”).

When I'm in a bad mood
I'm not a poetic dude –
All I can be is rude.

But when I’m in a Good mood
Those blues get ******* –
And I might even get lewd.

For when I feel good
I walk into the wood
Where my dreams are stood.

I love to bring joy
That will never cloy
Oh boy.

I have the vision
No indecision
Or derision.

See all that beauty,
This might get fruity –
Quite a *****.

But now I must go,
It’s the end of this show,
Cue Cupid’s bow.

Paul Butters

© PB 7\6\2020.

Every year now:
First it’s those trumpeting Daffodils,
Bluebells and Crocuses.
Forsythia Time too.
All manner of colourful blossoms
On trees and shrubs.
Cherry Blossoms abound.

Then a succession of buds
And flowerings.
In my garden alone
We have tall
Some leaning
Pye Plants (as I call them):
Rustic red, pink and white.
Beds of Geraniums,
Some Purple or Blue
Or wide-spreading pink.

My lawn
Decorated with daisies
And buttercups
And unknown bright orange flowers
So orange…
And not forgetting
Those bright yellow Dandelions:
Officially weeds (like Pye Plants)
Yet full of sun.

I take pictures of these each year
But the come out the same
Just about.
More wild Lavateras this time
Maybe
With fewer ferns
(White flowered).
But my trusty roses
Keep coming up with
The goods.
Petal curled within petal.

My beautiful Weigela
Or maybe Abelia
Stands proud
In my back garden
Beneath the Cotoneasters.
A kaleidoscope of blossoming flowers
All attended by swarms
Of humming bees –
An orchestral murmur
Punctuated often
By squabbling sparrow twitterings
And blackbird badgerings.
Sacred gardens
To slumber down in.

Paul Butters

© PB 6\6\2020.

Just think of all that you’ve seen
And experienced
Even forgotten
Throughout your Life.

Not just the Big Things.
The tiny
Seemingly insignificant things too.
Those various TV quizzes
Soaps, sitcoms, adverts
What would Aliens think?

Remember the savoury smell of freshly cut grass
Baking bread
And toilets!
Coffee as well.

See every detail of your table –
Strewn with papers
Objects
Mobile, wallet, medications, books…

Count those leaves on that tree
Stalks of grass
Grains of sand on a beach
Stars in the sky.

Remember all the people
You have met
Or seen
Or heard or read about.
From the rowdy
To the silent ones.
From Good to Evil.
I could go on…
But.

Who knows what our Subconscious Id
Has stored away
In the caverns of our minds?

Things that are with us always
Right until we Die.
And what happens to them then?
A whole universe of things.
Do they vanish
In a “pool of tears”?
Or are they somehow resurrected
Somewhere in Heaven?
We can only Hope…

Paul Butters

© PB 28\5\2020.

A tree to me:
A swaying palm, towering oak, a yew.
But what for you?
Some weeping willow,
Or a monkey puzzle tree?

My sweeping plains,
Lush meadows, in my mind's eye.
For you -
A dusty desert under a sun-seared sky?

My visions are reshaped
By every different viewer,
From paradise-landscapes,
To something from the sewer.

Paul Butters

© Paul Butters