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 Sep 2016 Paul Butters
Just Me R
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Tick
Tock
Tic....
 Sep 2016 Paul Butters
Just Me R
When you're lost for words
When you cannot find yourself
A garden of marigolds....orange, yellow and rust,
Bright, soft and rich, touched with golden dust.

Quiet and regal, sun kissed and fair,
Basil -citrus fragrance that mellows the moist air.

A thousand smiling marigolds, a thousand smiling suns,
Sweet nectar, ambrosia, for natures gentle ones.

Woven into garlands, yellow with tips  of red,
Woven into memories with many a words unsaid.

Love's hopes of an Indian  bride, clad in marigold,
With dreams wrought,  promises that two hearts dearly hold.

Tearful farewell to soldiers who traverse through destiny's doors,
A garland weaved with love for  those from across the seven shores.

And when the being is but a thought, as life grays and  olds,
Wrapped in a hearse of love, their love, with weeping marigolds.

An offering so humble yet flowers that Gods wear,
An offering with love,  with a souls quiet prayers.

Orange, yellow, rust..to love, to pray, to mourn,
Golden, sun kissed, blessed.. marigolds that life adorn.
take me to the mountains
where my spirit can roam
take me to mountains
so I can walk on their welcoming loam*

in the mountains the birds sing
such a sweetness of song
this is the rightful place
for my heart to belong

deeply seeded within the soul
the mountain's beautiful hues stay
when I'm amid the fall colours
my joys happily parlay

take me to the mountains
where my spirit can roam
take me to the mountains
so I can walk on their welcoming loam

the mountains call me
with a returning refrain
oh how wonderful being
back home in this domain

for too long I've been absent
from the mountains I treasure
everything about them
has a sheerness of pleasure

take me to the mountains
where my spirit can roam
take me to the mountains
*so I can walk on their welcoming loam
Think of me at dusk when stars
Cast the world in the light of night
When trees are washed in Selene's milk
And dreams are born in cream and white
Think of me when the morn rises
To the hum of feathers in a choir
When the sky's ablaze with scarlet shades
As dawn rides her chariot of fire

Think of me in waves of water
That arch to touch the golden grains
In woodlands sylvan, calm and quiet
Or in the music of the rain
Think of me in glens and meadows
Along silver streams and brooks that sprint
In gardens of lavender blue
And orchards tinged with fuchsia pink

So think of me, my love, think
Think of my love - so true
One day hoping you might love
Just the way that I love you
 Sep 2016 Paul Butters
Polar
Child of mine please know

All things have a season

All things have a time

If stars can fall, then crash and burn

Humans fight and fail to learn

Then time has nought to teach

The blind will never learn to see

And the deaf will fail to hear

Even mighty rivers run dry

And seas can also die

Today

my heart stopped beating

But time has taught me this...

Love is where you find it

Follow joy wherever you can

Hope can spring eternal

Fellowship remains in man
the*
compliant
were
manacled
in
servitude
the overseer
not allowing them
any latitude

these
heavy
steel
loops
held
a
firm
grip
from their cuffs
none could
readily slip

he
who
had
the
status
of
boss
not ever
giving up the
controller's toss

in
fetters
he'd
keep
them
bolted
secure
never to be
released out of
*the inure
swans and swanettes
all clamoured to dance
with the cygnet's undesirable
admission's prance

they didn't know that this male
was such a bragging exposure
and would strip their secrets
leaving them without composure

a waltzing of blackmail
was called in his revelation
the lovely feathered ones
trust divulged as intimidation

they only saw the charade
of this not so perfect ballroom chap
who'd tell all if they were unwilling
to twirl on his spin's tap

in fear lived the honeys    
of his fox trotting troupe
as their private steps
would be made an open coupe
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