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Aug 20 · 662
Paul Butters Aug 20
Perhaps someone thought of an Existence:
A Cosmos so arranged
That its skies would be adorned with stars
Full of worlds
Where sentient life was

Just an inkling of a thought,
A singularity
That dreamed of a singularity
From which Everything emerged.
All imaginable good and evil,
Making Pandora’s Box look trivial.
Evolving intelligence
From primordial slime.
Wonders everywhere that we
Will never see.

All from just a thought.
But better think on this:
We are that thought.

Paul Butters

© PB 20\8\2021.
Jul 28 · 503
Common World
Paul Butters Jul 28
This little world is like most worlds
Throughout the Cosmos.
Here the sun never moves
From its place in the sky:
Seemingly endless morning or eve,
Take your choice.

No concept of time.
No seasons.
Nothing to show the passing of the years.
Just that sun.
Moons optional.

The plants are black
Under a dark red sky
All sombre
All still
Apart from the odd cold wind
From this planet’s “Dark Side”.

For, like most planets,
This world resides in the Goldilocks Zone
Of a Red Dwarf Star
A zone where water may flow
Under the glow of a star
Like the vast majority of stars
Throughout the universe.

This world’s residents might well look out
Into space
With envy at our golden sun
With its blue Earth
Adorned with a coat of green
And its seasons
And days and nights.

They may learn from us about time
About our freedom to roam a long way
Without meeting tropical desert
And eternal frost on the dark side.

They may gasp in wonder
At this Paradise of ours
As they ponder their black grass
And hide from solar flares.
No respite from that relentless red sun,
No sense of time
Apart from monotony.

And they might wonder at us,
As we fail to care
For our glorious world
As it basks in our golden sun.

Paul Butters

© PB 28\7\2001.
Be Thankful.......
Jul 11 · 362
The Miracle
Paul Butters Jul 11
The miracle –
To see, to feel, to touch, to hear, to smell
To be
To know I’m me.

A miracle repeated centillions of times over:
From the tiniest bug to the tallest tree.
So many sentient beings
Brimming with thoughts and feelings
Powerful emotion
And boundless imagination.

Evolution is but a continuation
From some timeless beginning
That could have created time itself.

Particles still wink in and out of existence –
Endless miracles beyond our vision.
All animals are just like us,
Seeing, feeling, thinking, wondering.

We take all this for granted
Rushing about
With our petty concerns –
Seldom taking the time
To stop
And look
At the sheer wonder
That is

Paul Butters

© PB 11\7\2021.
In the beginning.....
Jun 25 · 216
A Spiritual Place
Paul Butters Jun 25
A spiritual place.
Set amongst ancient mountains
All clothed with timelessly old trees.
Streams and waterfalls gurgling
Down to meandering rivers.

Countless ancestors buried
Or ashes scattered here.
Battered old castles
Haunted mansions
Even the odd old parsonage
Perched upon a bleak northern hill.

You can’t put your finger on it,
But there is something in the air:
More than the howling wind;
Still present even when the thunder
And lightning

Ghosts of the past are amongst us
As surely as the aromas of flowers
And cut grass.

The ancient souls are still with us,
No doubt wondering
What the hell we are doing.
For here are civilisations that
Have basked in glory
For many generations
Only to fall and crumble.
Abandoned, lost cities,
Cultures and even languages
That have blossomed and thrived
Only to fade away.

Perhaps the same fate awaits us too.
All things must end.
For even the very universe
Will fade away
Into a misty sea of protons
Leaving no memory of anything
Or anyone.

All that will remain
Is this spiritual backdrop
Countless souls
Refusing to go away
Even in the blackest night.
Dry ice still creeping
Through the gloom,
Never surrendering.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\6\2021.
Feel it.
Jun 22 · 270
Keep Cool
Paul Butters Jun 22
Keep cool and calm,
Don’t do any harm
To others or yourself.
Even when rejected,
Don’t be affected.

Swim through the storm
Don’t even get warm.
Maintain self esteem
You know what I mean.
Control your emotion
In all the commotion.

Be Mister (or Missus) Cool
And don’t be a tool
For their challenging way –
You know it won’t pay.

People can be evil,
We all know that.
Almost primeval –
That’s a fact.

Feel good about yourself
Ignoring all barbs,
Keep up on that shelf
And deflect all those words.

If you can, smile and laugh,
Show you’re not bothered.
Like a giraffe
Don’t get smothered.

Beat them with wit:
Show them you’re mentally fit.
Use sarcasm too –
You know what to do.

If they then want to fight
Bring it on if you must,
But if outnumbered and outpowered
Get running -
Leaving a cloud of dust.

But first don’t react
Or do anything you can’t retract.
Keep your Cool
Don’t be the angry fool.

Assert yourself
And say what you want.
While doing your best
Not to affront.

What more can I say?
Being Cool is the way.
That’s my message
For today.

Paul Butters

© PB 22\6\2021.
Personal Mantra.
May 25 · 425
Garden Aromas
Paul Butters May 25
Garden aromas
Yet taken for granted
Amongst a spiritual haven
Of sacred trees
Resplendently coloured flowers
And glorious grass.

Aromas of blossoms and dew,
Cut savannahs
Rain and drought
Foxes and cats.
Doggy Paradise
Where they can sniff
And scuffle,
Dreaming of truffle.

A Summer retreat
You cannot beat,
Better for a pond
To strengthen that bond.
Just sit or stroll
And soak it all in.
There is plenty of time.
You can only win.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\5\2021.
That peaceful garden retreat.
May 13 · 422
Paul Butters May 13
Blinded by the Sun.
My eyes scream in pain.
But then they ease
And as I soak up the scene
My spirit lifts.

All is brightly lit
In glorious sunshine.
Lush green foliage
Reflecting those golden rays
Provoking images
Of sunny beaches
Swaying palms
On remote tropical isles.

Under the dome of a hazy light-blue sky
Bedecked with fluffy fair-weather clouds
We bask in the sun, sun, sun.

What more can you ask for
On a balmy summer day?
Well, maybe a cool pint of ale.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\5\2021.
Love summer
May 10 · 380
Paul Butters May 10
Scientists say that everyone dies,
Having a set lifespan,
With the only possible exception being
Some unique jellyfish
Who regenerate like Doctor Who.

Yet religious folk claim
We will have eternal life
So long as we believe
In Their God (whoever).

So who can we believe?
Are any of them right
At all?

Is death the same for all?
The same for a man or woman
As for a blade of grass or withering rose?
The same for all men and women?
For humans and animals alike?

Have we been told the truth
About this and other matters?
The questions go on:
Conundrums whirling around our minds
As we inwardly crave Salvation.

All we have now,
To cling on to,
Is good old Hope.
Faith has no certainty
For me.
I never kidded myself
About that.
There’s only Hope, Hope,

Paul Butters

© PB 10\5\2021.
There is always Hope
May 9 · 396
Paul Butters May 9
The sea sweeps to the far horizon:
Infinity’s edge,
As endless waves lap onto the shore.
Above us gulls wheel and scream
Hunting for prosaic fish and chips.
They ****** them
From hapless humans
Down below.

And the breakers keep breaking.
Elsewhere the ocean rages,
Storming the cliffs
With spraying cascades of water
And thrashing rain.

Here today, though, it is calm and clear.
Up above we see an even greater ocean:
That of blue sky
And nightly black space.

Up there we truly look
To infinity
Eternity too.
Beyond our comprehension.

We people are but tiny specks
On island beaches
Insignificant particles
Of humanity
Lost in a universe
That knows no bounds.
Yet here to enjoy
Those golden dawns and dusks,
Fanned by freshening breezes –
Much gentler versions of gales and hurricanes.

Never forget that the sea is mighty.
Just love it
When it’s in a peaceful mood:
Soak up the spirit of surf
As you watch those endless waves.

Paul Butters

© PB 8\5\2021.
I live by the sea....
Mar 20 · 301
First Dogs
Paul Butters Mar 20
Over thirty thousand years ago a pregnant she-wolf
And her mate lay hidden in the grass
Watching some of our human ancestors
Hunt with spears, bows and arrows.
They were very impressed
But more than that so hungry
That they followed those humans home
Hoping to steal some meat.

They were just about to ****** that food
When a humans appeared
All around them.
They were caught!
All they could do was look up with pleading eyes:
“Please don’t **** us! We just want food.”
Seeing one of them was heavily pregnant
Those humans presumed them starving
And threw them meat
Then let them go!

Hungry again, they went back for more
And the humans fed them
And even stroked them.
This was so much better
Than having to search for prey
So often without reward.

And as time passed they took to accompanying these humans
On their hunts
Then ferreting out some prey for them to shoot
Rounding animals up
And retrieving those shot down by arrows.

Soon the rest of their pack joined them
And the female wolf had her pups
Near the human camp
Where it was safe.
She taught her pups
To plead for food and care
With their eyes and whines.

Those wolves remained forever,
Generation after generation
Each litter getting cuter
And softer
And more loving
Towards mankind.

And so they evolved
Into a seemingly endless variety
Of “Dogs”.
From Rottweilers to tiny Poodles,
German Shepherds and Collies to Chihuahuas.
They became known as “Man’s Best Friend”,
Showing us unconditional Love
And loyalty:
A bond like no other.
Even evolving raised eyebrows
And deeply sad eyes
To attract our love and care.
Domesticating themselves
Yet begging the question
Who is really “the master”?
My money is on

Paul Butters

© PB 20\3\2021.
Inspired by a Chris Packham documentary on Animal Communication.
Mar 18 · 245
Paul Butters Mar 18
Shapely steaming trees make clouds of their own:
Raining daily on the rainforest.
Rumbling jungles serenaded by a clichéd cacophony of birdsong.

I love all trees wherever they are:
Pinewoods in temperate zones,
Palms on tropical isles,
Ancient oaks full of magic.

See breeze kissed canopies high in the sky,
Forests deep in mysterious gloom.
Let Attenborough portray the rest.
Tarzan and Robin Hood to reign forever.
Keep your axes and saws away.
Let’s plant as many trees as we can
And watch them grow.

Paul Butters

© PB 18\3\2021.
Written early one Thursday morning.
Paul Butters Mar 10
Leeds United on the attack
No sign of holding back
No matter what the score
We keep knocking on that door

Slicing through opposing lines
Creating chances many times
We really should score many more
That would bring us to the fore

Bamford bangs them in of course
Making us a formidable force
Get those shooting boots on, one and all
Let’s get past that defensive wall

Raphinha brings Brazilian magic
His silky skills are so fantastic
Kalvin runs the midfield show
Gives our team a rapid flow

Bielsa’s brain and dedication
Provides us with a firm foundation
He has us marking man for man
Keeping to the pressing plan

People hated us in the past
Now they love us, no more typecast
Strange to be so often praised
Enjoying having our profile raised

So here’s to Leeds, our beloved team
Hoping soon to be the cream
Keep going you men in white
Aiming for a future bright

Paul Butters

© PB 10\3\2021.
Marching On Together
Mar 4 · 318
Paul Butters Mar 4
Even if we went beyond the bounds
Of space and time
We would see an infinite multiverse
Lasting forever.

For We are lost
So utterly lost
Amongst countless numbers
Of galaxies and stars.

Words cannot do justice
To this miraculous wonder.
Call it a cosmos
Or a universe
What you will
This black vastness
Is beyond human comprehension.

Our own little Earth
May well be replicated
Endless times:
Infinite numbers of rocky worlds
Orbiting their suns
In cosy Goldilocks zones.

Perhaps each universe explodes to life
Then fades
Like some Groundhog Super-Age
Lasting many trillions of years
Each Repeat.

But it matters not
As eternal infinity is time and space enough
For anything to happen.

And it matters not
Unless there is someone around
To witness and experience it all.
And that’s where We come in.
That’s our role.

Paul Butters

© PB 4\3\2021.
Space Again!
Feb 21 · 420
Paul Butters Feb 21
Brevity bangs

Paul Butters

© PB 19\2\2021.
Kept this on the chocks for a few days.....
Feb 17 · 506
I Inwardly Weep
Paul Butters Feb 17
I inwardly weep to see
We experience existence but once
And not for very long.
But what can we do?
Only our Best
While we Can.

Paul Butters

© PB 17\2\2021.
Written between two little siestas on a February afternoon.
Jan 28 · 263
Paul Butters Jan 28
All that emotion
What a commotion.
Sadness, hate and love
Heavens above!

So much yearning
Not much earning.
Floods of tears,
Constant fears.
Jumps of joy,
Boy oh boy!

Feelings deep
That make you weep.
Time to fashion
Love and passion.

We love our lovers, friends and pets,
Our siblings and cousins too.
Not forgetting Mum and Dad,
For without them, what would we do?

So keep on loving, that’s what I say –
Love all living things
Every day.

Paul Butters

© PB 28\1\2021.
Feel it.
Jan 27 · 1.0k
Paul Butters Jan 27
Wordsong, wordsong,
Lovely as birdsong.
Could be a Pop Song,
But never a Swansong.

Could be a rap,
And all that *******.
For Rap is easy,
Lemon squeezy.
But rap has beat
And words that repeat.
Rap has rhyme
Nearly every time.
Rap even has metre –
Who can beat her?

Yet wordsong is melodious too,
Giving us a worldly view.
Poems of love and dedication
Even human emancipation.
Whoops I’m slipping back -
Back into that addictive rap.

You must remember to read out loud –
Silver lining on every cloud.
Poetic landscapes catch our gaze,
Brightening up our mundane days.

The river of life keeps flowing on,
Iambic metre our beating heart.
Read it like you’re singing a song,
Write it whether or not it’s Art.

So play those words
So full of feeling
Just like the birds
And so appealing.

Paul Butters

© PB 27\1\2021.
Sing It Out Loud.
Jan 21 · 393
Another Spring
Paul Butters Jan 21
Sing out long and loud
Feel the joy around
Spring is on the way
Dawning of the day

Dawning of the year
Daffies nearly here
Thrusting through the ground
No longer earthbound

Bluebells and snowdrops too
With crocuses coming through
From bulbs hidden in the soil
Life is on the boil

The rhythm of life is changing
Always re-arranging
Looking to the summer
For winter made us glummer.

Looking forward with hope
Rose tinted telescope
I can hardly wait
For now I just anticipate.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\1\2021.
Inspired by "Times Like These" song, originally by Dave Grohl (of The Foo Fighters).
Jan 17 · 346
Guilty Secrets
Paul Butters Jan 17
We all carry Guilt.
Things we did
Or should have done.
Actions taken when red mist descended,
Hot blackness deep inside,
Or when we ran scared
Like a startled rabbit.

Sometimes we were just plain mean:
Doing things
Too bad to confess.
At times we “did our job”,
Knowing full well
That it was wrong.

We hate ourselves for what we did:
Adrenaline taking over
As we exploded and lashed out.
Cruel acts and gutting dumpings:
Things best unsaid.

But no good beating ourselves up.
No point blaming ourselves
For things we did as callow youths.
We cannot always help
What we do.
To err is human,
As they say.

We all have our flaws and demons:
Personality defects and fears.
Some have  anger issues
And autistic traits.
Fear of commitment,
Emotional dimness
And many other such things.
Stuff of heartbreak
And sorrow.

I, for one, never did relationships –
Just didn’t understand
What they were about.
So I was bound to do wrong

All stuff for lyrics of songs:
Songs of drifting apart
And breaking up.
Material mounting into Everests
Of angst.

But worry not.
We are not alone.
For evil acts,
Trouble and strife,
Division and violent clashes:
They all seem to be the general way
In these trying
Modern times.

Plenty to work on
In our collective quest
For Peace,
Including peace of mind.

Paul Butters

© PB 17\1\2021.
Inspired by hearing so many "breakup" lyrics on "Top of the Pops New Year 2021 Special".
Jan 15 · 2.8k
Paul Butters Jan 15
You pose and pout,
Seduction by superficial sauciness.
You tell me of your day
With that simpering voice,
Raising each last word
Long and loud.

You show me your flash cars,
Your sumptuous wardrobe
And who knows what else?

You and your kin call yourselves “Influencers” –
A great word,
But all you do is make people:
People who have grafted long and hard
For a little spare cash,
Go buy things they
Do not really need.

Right Said Fred was Right:
The global catwalk
Is a sham.

I too would love to be an “Influencer”,
Such a fine word,
But I would be one to encourage folk
To Love others,
Stop all this Conflict
Between polar opposites and extremes,
Fight only for the Common Good,
And make the world a better place
For All.

Paul Butters

© PB 15\1\2021.
Inspired by a TV programme about C21 Celebrity.
Jan 8 · 804
Covid Lockdown Three
Paul Butters Jan 8
The World is all forlorn
As New Covid is born.
Time to frown,
We are getting locked down.

Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine
We hear your cavalry bugle call.
Vaccine, vaccine, vaccine, vaccine
If you don’t work, the writing’s on the wall.

So many dead, it’s hard to bear,
So much menace in the air.
Everyone tired of this stuff,
So many folk having it rough.

One Lockdown was very tough
Having three is more than enough.
Children getting schooled at home
By parents who are on the dole.

Americans fight amongst themselves,
Instead of putting food on the shelves.
Brits have been distracted by Brexit,
Arguably a mistimed exit.

Last March I asked
Will this last a year?
Well the time is coming –
It’s getting near.

That vaccine surely gives us hope
But where’s our second jab?
No more playing rope a dope,
This chance we have to grab.

No jab at all for me,
As I am sixty eight.
I’ll have to wait and see
But am prepared to wait.

Paul Butters

© PB 8\1\2021. First two lines by Norman Stevens.
It began with a text from Norman...
Jan 1 · 412
Paul Butters Jan 1
Bielsa’s Boys go bombing on.
Hear it, hear it,
Hear our song.

Running further than the rest,
Leeds United are the best.
Scything through the opposition,
Scoring goals our only mission.

Top flight teams are running scared,
Afraid of a team that’s uncompared:
Players drilled on “Murderball”,
Making them feel so very tall.

We’ve even a Brazilian in our team.
Bielsa buys only the cream.
Brazil themselves are doing great deeds:
They say they’re playing just like Leeds.

Shame about those missing fans,
Still busy washing their hands.
Can’t wait for that Elland Road roar
Celebrating every score.

Before too long we’ll be World Champs,
Shining bright like electric lamps.
Bamford scoring all those goals,
Shutting the mouths of Keane and Scholes.

Bielsa’s Boys go bombing on.
Hear it, hear it,
Hear our song.

Paul Butters

© PB 1\1\2021.
On Leeds United - the team where I was brought up.
Dec 2020 · 265
Paul Butters Dec 2020
According to the Bible there is
A high place where all good people go
When their Life’s innings is over.
But Bad folk go down to “Hell” –
To suffer “bottomless perdition”.

Yet we only have to look up
At the morning or evening sky
To see Planet Hell:
It’s the brightest “star” of all:

And I believe
That out there amongst that ocean of stars
There is a so called “Exoplanet”
In a distant solar system
Like ours
Perhaps twice as big as Earth:
A sub-tropical world
With ice only at the very poles
And on lofty mountain tops.

I see a place of endless forest
Filled with butterflies
And songbirds.
Grassy plains too,
Roamed by alien buffalo.
Oceans teeming with fish
And dolphins
And colourful corals.

A world untroubled
By killing
Or pollution.
Dotted with tiny villages
With peaceful inhabitants
Basking in afternoon suns.

I picture a utopian paradise
Or what you will.
Another Eden,
Or if you prefer

Paul Butters

© PB 28\12\2020.

Another one for Norman Stevens.
As requested by Norman.
Dec 2020 · 251
Outer Space Discovery
Paul Butters Dec 2020
Out of blackest space
The starship “Discovery” emerges from the abyss
To orbit around a beautiful blue world
Just like Earth.
Its captain decides to land
And the view gets better as it descends.

Continents and oceans are plain to see,
But so much more:
Futuristic cities –
Great civilisations –
The crew cannot wait for that moment
Of First Contact.

And so it happens:
The captain and his officers
Stand at last before an emissary
Of a planet light years away from Earth.

Before them is an alien
Humanoid indeed
Though with Leaves of all things
Decorating its head.
It’s neither male or female
As far as they can tell
And has a long tail
With of all things
A plant *** at the end.
Yes, a tail stuck in a plant ***!

The alien swishes its tail to bring
The plant *** into its leafy hands.

“Welcome to our world,” smiles the Alien,
“It is called Earth just like yours.
Just like countless other Earths
Around the Cosmos.
And yes
I am what you would call a ‘Plant’.
For most worlds of our universe did not
Evolve carnivores like you.
If I want a proper feed
I find some soil beds
And search for food with
My tap root.

But worry not,
You are what you are.
You cannot help the hand that Evolution
Has given you
No more than any of us can change
Whatever our ancestors did in historical times.
We welcome you in Peace and Love,
At least in the hope
That you don’t Eat Us.”

The captain and his crew hang their heads
In shame
Until the captain replies:
“Thank you for your welcome.
We too come in peace.
And rest assured
Our intentions are good:
Whatever happens
We will not eat you.”

“Good” says the alien, with a nod,
“That’s just as well,
For we have giant bees here,
And you wouldn’t want
To make them angry with you.
But come,
It’s time for you to see
Our enormous butterflies.”

And with that,
First Contact
Was concluded
And a new relationship

Paul Butters

© PB 27\12\2020.
Dec 2020 · 861
Christmas 2020
Paul Butters Dec 2020
Thank Goodness Santa was exempted
From Covid Travel Rules,
So he could go and deliver
All those presents and shimmering jewels.
My great nephew and niece all smiles:
Look at their happy faces.
Santa did all those miles
And got to so, so many places.

He even brought me mine
Disguised as mail delivery.
Giving his reindeers time
To rest, for a while,
In their Lapland livery.

Top of the Pops at noon.
It was on so very soon.
Some nice tunes and jingles
Like a box full of Pringles.

Not quite Rock and Roll,
But still a hint of Soul.
Meaningful lyrics
And some atmospherics.

The Queen gave us Hope
With her speech at three.
No time to mope
Here in the land of the Free.

Trust you all enjoyed this festive day some way.
And let us all pray
That things get better
From New Year’s Day.

It’s time to conquer Covid:
About time I hear you shout.
It’s DNA decoded,
Vaccinations all about.

So twenty-twenty-one
Is coming very soon.
When this year is all done,
Let’s fly up to the moon.

Let’s fill the world with Love,
Holding hands again.
Goodbye to twenty-twenty,
Goodbye to all the pain.

Paul Butters

© PB 25\12\2020.

(Last two lines changed at the suggestion of Norman Stevens 27\12)

(Original final two lines were:
“It’s not a matter of whether,
Only a matter of when.” ).
Dec 2020 · 235
Earth After People
Paul Butters Dec 2020
The wind and wild hounds of hell
Howl in unison
Over a desolate landscape.
Only a handful of us
Survivors of a cataclysm
That almost wiped out
The whole human race.

Now grand lady nature is taking back
Everything she ever lost
Or was robbed of.
Ivy, vines and other creepers
Clamber over the crumbling concrete castles
That once were our homes.

Roads crack asunder:
Cleaving city ravines where subways
Have collapsed –
New rivers for new times.

Angkor Wat has nothing on this:
City after city
Lost in tangled jungle.
Animal pets run wild,
Mating with wolves and wildcats
And God knows what,
To add to their strength.

Where nuclear power plants exploded
Unattended by humankind,
All is winter desolation,
Yet even there Nature is fighting back,
Reclaiming her grounds
Inch by inch.

Take a closer look at all these lands:
Nature is now flourishing:
Free of pollution
Carbon emissions
And Global Warming
Caused by “Man”.

The world has lost its top predator
And destroyer.
Meerkats and monkeys are the brightest now
Or maybe dolphins.
Dogs and cats are quite smart too.
But all in all
The world is so much better:
A vernal Paradise
For all
Except Humanity.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\12\2020. For Norman Stevens.
Nov 2020 · 383
Paul Butters Nov 2020
In bitter winds the little Pipistrelle bats
Flitter hither and thither
Into the hills,
Around tree-timber limbs
With brittle twigs.
They wing their way
In thrills
Of twists
And turns.

Meanwhile, deep down below
The cows moan,
Roaming through the range.
They moo while they chew the cud,
Ruminating their food
Grazed earlier from prairie meadows.

Through the long day
They are accompanied
By flocks of birds
Twittering and tweeting,
Much noisier than the bats.
A feather flung chorus
Singing operas and arias
Amongst the misty trees.

Word composers love these things:
Mother Nature wrapping us
In her arms
And filling the air
With sights and sounds
That sooth the soul,
Sending us soundly to sleep
While those bats
Come out to play.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\11\2020.
Musical words.
Oct 2020 · 398
Blue Sky Sunny Day
Paul Butters Oct 2020
A blue sky sunny day
To help us work rest and play.
As good as the old Mars bar,
It’s bound to take us far.

There’s nothing like some sunshine,
To put us onto Cloud Nine.
Filling us with glee.
Time for a cuppa tea.

Better still a beer,
I do wish you were here.
Can do the garden too.
Oh so much to do.

But the river keeps on flowing,
On to who knows where.
No idea where we’re going
Whenever we sail down there.

See that ancient ruin
Telling of times long past.
Something worth pursuing,
Longer may it last.

All is better for that sun.
We can have such fun.
Don’t just stand and stare,
Get out in that fresh air.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\10\2020 (3).
Pure Fiction!
Oct 2020 · 306
Life's Purpose
Paul Butters Oct 2020
Is The Purpose of Life
Just to be the first
To beat or cheat Death?

For The Grim Reaper stands supreme.
Some trees have endured
For nearly five thousand years.
And so-called immortal jellyfish
Can regenerate
Back to childhood
Sort of like Doctor Who.

But no-one has achieved mortality.
All we can do is pass the baton
Of Life
To the next generation.
On and on.

Smart science may yet allow us
To modify our genes
And make Regeneration
Or maybe transfer
Our Consciousness
Into some computer
Or Virtual World.
Who knows what our technology
Might do for us?

The Spiritual Way
Remains our only hope
Of Salvation from Death

Paul Butters

© PB 23\10\2020 (2).
My obsession
Oct 2020 · 310
Paul Butters Oct 2020
Mummy sparrow leads her chick
Into the garden.
A fluffy baby bird
Beak wide open
Demanding food.

So mother duly catches a grub
To drop it into
That wide open
Clamouring mouth.

Meanwhile, indoors, mamma dog suckles
A crowd of pups
All clambering at her belly,
Grabbing *******
And ******* like there’s no tomorrow.

And in another house
Mother cat is feeding her kittens.
Indeed all around the world
All sorts of animals
Are getting fed by Mum.

But ah, I must stop writing.
My own Mum has called me to lunch:
Glorious stew and dumplings –
Dumplings so soft
With a hint of crust on some.
Followed by her tasty sponge
And custard.
Gran has helped her too
And brought us sweets
For later.

Mums and grandmas:
You can’t beat them.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\10\2020.
Miss You Mum! :(
Sep 2020 · 266
Earth 2
Paul Butters Sep 2020
Earth – you little blue gem:
Oasis in a great black desert.
Perhaps Unique
With your single Moon –
Queen of The Tides
Or one of millions of Earths
Scattered throughout Space.
Who knows?

Sky blue seas
Draped in cloud curtains
Hints of brown and green
On continents
Teeming with Life.

Paradise Planet
Rich diversity
Of plants
And animals.

Taken for granted
I’m afraid
By people too busy
To appreciate
Her beauty.

All they do is rip down her forests
Bounty hunt for trophies
And make her a greenhouse
Heading towards a Hell
Like Venus.

I hope they soon see sense,
Close down those ugly factories
Allowing our Earth
To cool again.

Does all intelligent life destroy itself
In the end?
Is this why space is silent
When we should be deafened
By radio broadcasts
From other worlds?

I hope not.
The choice is ours.
But first we must open our eyes.
Open them to the sheer beauty
And Splendour
Of our Mother Earth.

Paul Butters

© PB 24\9\2020.
Beautiful Earth.
Sep 2020 · 214
Paul Butters Sep 2020
Again I slouch on my couch.
Conscious that I am me,
Composing this piece.
I have my memories
And see my lounge –
My Man Cave
With gardens outside.

As I’ve said before
When I fall asleep
Weird things happen.
In my dreams
Amazing stories unfold
As though I’m making films
Or countless TV clips.
Sometimes it’s like I’m on my computer
Again –
Living what I read
Or taking part
In streams of videos.

So many shocks!
With people now living or dead
In the real world.

So once more I have to ask
Who is feeding me these scenes?
Presenting me with crowds
Of people
Known and unknown.

Is it my Id, Subconscious, Unconscious…
Some other person
Within myself?
Putting aside the Spiritual source,
Who is this Other Me
Who can’t be me
Because I am Me.

The Conscious Me is lost
In some Unconscious Realm,
Weirder that Twilight Zone
Every time
I dream.

We take these things for granted
Of course
Putting to the back of our minds
That we have no idea
About that fundamental question:
What is Reality?

Paul Butters

© PB 20\9\2020.
Sep 2020 · 295
Paul Butters Sep 2020
In Cyberland, Microsoft is King
And we all pray to Google.
There is an Apple Resistance,
And Yahoo keeps on yelling,
But Microsoft is King.

Where did Jeeves go?
Remember him, you oldies?
A smiling Hitchcock fatty
You could ask things.

Remember Bebo and MySpace too.
But now we Snapchat through the day
And ask folk WhatsApp.
All in an Instagram.
(My Custom Dictionary
Is filling with new words).

So now it’s time for Tik Tok.
(See what I did there?)
That’s if the Americans allow it!
And much more no doubt.
Instagram Gratification
Flashing images
And clips.
No time for tedious talking
On landline phones
Or, heaven forbid,
Face to face conversation.

Writing – or rather typing – too is clipped
With lols & rofls & tbfs.
Lazy language
Tweets in textese
Fast and fleeting.
Facebook Funnies
With bouncy banter.

As a loyal subject of Cyberland
I do confess
To many an hour
Sifting through Facebook Memories
Even improving old posts
With coloured backgrounds
And sharper edits.
Addictive Internet indeed.

In years to come
Will we laugh loudly
At the mention of Google
And all the names I’ve said
Like we snigger at Bebo, MySpace
And Nokia Mobiles now?

The tsunami of technological change
Sweeps over our heads
Smashing the past:
Leading us
To who knows where.
For better or worse
Who can say?
Wherever we are going,
We are well on the way.

Paul Butters

© PB 17\9\2020.
By Google!!!
Sep 2020 · 276
Paul Butters Sep 2020
The summer sun soars above the sultry sands…
Sorry your computer hit a problem
We will restart it for you
Error code – Gremlins from your latest Update.

Where was I?
The beach beams with delight…
You have Urgent Email
Your Paypal Account has been hacked
We need your bank details again
To protect you from villains.

Still on a standard gas rate?
You must shop around.
Use our fantastic cheap deal tracking

Your internet provider technical department
Your computer is under attack
From Trojan Horse Maleficent-Ware.
You will lose internet connection in
Five hours unless…

We don’t provide cover for the drains
Under your house
Unless you take out
Our splendid insurance scheme.

Poetry Moderators here:
The word “Delight” is Not
Allowed here
As it has ****** Connotations
And your style breaches our
Community Rules.
Suggest instead:
The finely grained sandstone
Reflects Sol light
Making my mood
More adequate
By psychological standards.

Sorry your computer hit a problem.
I give up.

(NB No Moderators were hurt
During the typing of this poem,
As they usually act
It is posted).


Paul Butters

© PB 15\9\2020.
Sep 2020 · 314
War Weary
Paul Butters Sep 2020
It was hard in those trenches.
Cut off from the rest of the world.
Cold and wet
And muddy.

Left without the right equipment:
Brush handles for rifles.
The government sending the right signals
But sadly failing to produce.
We soldiered on,
Following the rules of engagement
Laid down by the top brass.
Keep your head down lad!

We dug in for weeks.
Not knowing what day it was.
No sense of time.
Our old routines long gone.
Nowhere to go
And nothing to do
But hide.

But then we emerged.
Looking forward to victory.
Marching heads aloft
Across the battlefield.
Confident that soon our boffins will come up
With some A Bomb to
Finish them off.

But wait.
The enemy isn’t finished.
Indeed it’s resurgent.
Gathering it’s troops
For a deadly

We may be war weary.
Fed up of the carnage
And having to hide
Like rats.

But, “Back to the trenches boys (and girls!)!”
Is the cry
From above.
Our commanders are in a panic.
They steer us to the nearest bolt hole
As Meerkats escaping a bird of prey.
For we may be weary
Of all this
But our enemy is deadly.
Our enemy?
You guessed it:
Covid 19.

Paul Butters

© PB 13\9\2020.
Sep 2020 · 284
Paul Butters Sep 2020
My stream of consciousness is in full flow,
Tumbling down the page.
A cascade of words
Bouncing and foaming
Towards unknown seas.

No planning here.
No structure
Or direction.
Just meanderings
And oxbow lakes.

Free verse unfettered
By Draconian Rules
Or dogma.
Odd rhymes thrown in
Casual confetti.

So what should I type about,
Sitting here in my armchair
In the silence of my lounge?

The sky is full of clouds
A blanket over this
September afternoon.
Perfect conditions
For composing this poem.

Should I put the world to rights?
(How long have you got?)
Or just indulge
In some uplifting visions?

I don’t do emotions very much.
The cork is firmly closed
On those.
Recall my early loves:
All unrequited.
That crushed my very soul.
Memories of crying inside,
Unable to eat
Or think of anything except
That longing for love
Which never came.

So no
I don’t do emotions.
And seldom reveal myself
As I just did.
I’d rather let my imagination soar,
My eagle eye -
A soaring cliché –
Taking in the sweep of space
And everything below.

I see trees
And animals,
Mountains, coasts and oceans.
People milling about.
A scream of seagulls soars above the sea.
Waves crash:
A thundering tsunami
Against the brittle cliffs.

I have many voices.
From soft soothing lullabies
To grand orations
Full of pomp and splendour.

Music plays in my head:
A crescendo of orchestras
And songs.
Freddie, Elvis, Bassey
Clapton, Hendrix and Satriani.
Ginger Baker, Phil Collins.

Reciting poetry
Within my brain
Is easy
After Bohemian Rhapsody.

So once more to the beach dear friends
With Brian Wilson
And his crew.
Let Sloop John B be launched
Heading for oceans new.

At last a rhyme
As attention spans begin to
Enough for now
My loyal friends.
I’d best bid you

Paul Butters

© PB 4\9\2020. First 3 lines Written 16\8\20 in my big paper diary.
Going Walkabout
Aug 2020 · 277
Genesis Update
Paul Butters Aug 2020
In our Beginning God created this Universe.
It was during an Eterninfinity,
But old Moses didn’t go into that.

Now space was formless and empty,
Darkness reigned.
And God said
“Let there be matter”
And there was matter:
A singularity
Expanding faster and faster
To create material, movement and Time.

The early universe was a cloud
Of gas and dust
Enveloped in blackness.
So God said
“Let there be light”
And there was light
As the first star was born.

The universe expanded.
First generation stars
Made light elements
And later generations of stars
Produced heavier ones.

And the star we call The Sun
Was born
Mothering The Earth
Amongst other worlds.
The Earth:
A small ball of iron
And rock
Attended by a Moon.

The die was cast
Right at the start
The Formula was set
So Inevitably life appeared
Here on Earth
And here we are!

Evolution would not be possible
Without The Formula
Formed by God
Wherever S\he is.

Evolution is part of The Equation
I feel.
But what came before Genesis?
And how did God come to Be?
Does God have a God?
And that God his or her God?
For we just might be Lost
In a Multiverse
Within an Eterninfinity:
Courtesy of Lady Luck
And the roll of some Ethereal, Divine

Paul Butters

© PB 20\8\2020.
Credit to Moses or his sources
Aug 2020 · 306
Poetry Football
Paul Butters Aug 2020
As a typer of what might be
I am a football manager
With WORDS as my players.

Words in a Deep W Formation –
Total free verse
Hopefully forming a diamond.
No buses parked here
As my words go winging
Down the page.

Not quite five three two
But maybe the odd Haiku
In syllables of five seven five –
For there are far more than eleven syllables
In Poetry.

All writers are the same:
Our words combining
To make meaning,
Passing our visions
Views and feelings
For a crowd of readers
All being well.

Words to be chanted
By crowds enchanted –
Songs for a stadium
That is our united mind.

Paul Butters

© PB 16\8\2020.
Jul 2020 · 420
Flight of Fancy
Paul Butters Jul 2020
Let your mind’s eye fly forward
Right out the window
Through that faint reflection
Of your lounge.
Let it fly
Over those regulated blocks
We call estates
The ant city landscape
Then over the plains
To the sea.

Head to the far horizon,
Over the curve
Of The Earth
And on
Into blackest space.
Out by Pluto
Through Orion’s Belt
And The Milky Way.
Beyond Andromeda
And countless galaxy clusters.

Then look back
Towards our tiny blue marble.
Look back
At everything we know.
See how trivial
We humans
Really are.

Our world,
A tiny speck
Upon the canvas
Of the cosmos.
One grain of sand
Upon an infinite beach.

Then fly back home
But still remember
That the Glory of Existence
Is Everywhere
To be enjoyed
And cherished
While ever we live.

Paul Butters

© PB 21\7\2020.
Hope I take you with me....
Jul 2020 · 381
Paul Butters Jul 2020
They say this Covid Plague came from bats.
I picture a great black cave
Filled with bats
Crammed into the crannies –
Locust swarm sardines,
Those Covid spike-*****
Rubbing their hands with glee.

So what happens when Lockdown Eases?
Swarms of sheeples
Dancing in the streets
Squeezing together
In a ***** fuelled frenzy
Just like those bats.

Except the bats remain sober:
They only do what they do
Knowing no other.
But We have no excuse.
We have the intelligence
To see
That this is wrong.
Yet we choose NOT
To act smart.

No, we risk all –
Risk a lonely breathless death
And anonymous incineration
Away from our friends and kin
Just for a ***** lash
Out on the crowded town.  

Will We ever Learn?
I’m afraid
It might be a long time coming.

Paul Butters

© PB 5\7\2020.
When Will They Learn???
Jul 2020 · 295
Philistine Fred
Paul Butters Jul 2020
You say that all poetry is gobbledygook:
That Art's a waste of time
Elvis was just a Showman
And Freddie Mercury…
(Yes the same first name as you!)
…I’d better not say.

Where is your soul, Philistine Fred?
So many like you around.
Your mind cluttered with clinical facts,
Everything measured
And boxed –
Fastidious and precise.
Emotion killed
By setsquares
Set by Pythagoras
On a geometrical day.

You hate historical dramas
And all things learned.
Admitting any Education
Loses any street cred earned.
Yet you watch hours and hours
Of soaps.

You love supporting football teams
From places you’ve never been near.
But at least you like your pubs
For a lovely pint of beer.

I guess I’ll have to keep trying
To get through to you and your kind.
Yet I know some things ain’t possible
And you may never change your mind.

But yes I’ll keep on trying:
Keep banging out my poems –
Knowing that my pockets
Will never be lined with coins.

I know that you won’t read this,
But I will carry on.
For there are people out there
Who will listen to my song.

Paul Butters

© PB 3\7\2020.
(Partly Inspired by “How Do You Sleep” (1971) song by John Lennon. Education, education, education. Soul, soul, soul.
Jun 2020 · 277
Paul Butters Jun 2020
The breathtaking wonders of the universe
Orgasmically explode:
Trillions of stars,
Blindingly bright
With black light.

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.
Here I go again.......
Jun 2020 · 313
I Told You So
Paul Butters Jun 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.
Some "pop music lyrics"...
Jun 2020 · 302
Skeggy Lee
Paul Butters Jun 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”).
Love a lyric.
Jun 2020 · 251
Moody Blues
Paul Butters Jun 2020
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.
Artistic Temperament
Jun 2020 · 332
Paul Butters Jun 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
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.
A celebration of my garden's constancy.
May 2020 · 271
Just Think
Paul Butters May 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
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…

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.
Another "deep one"....
May 2020 · 308
Tree 1
Paul Butters May 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
After posting what is noe "Tree 2", I found This on the internet somewhere. Had no copy of it either!!!
May 2020 · 474
Tree 2
Paul Butters May 2020
Where life exists
You often find a carpet
Of grass or moss or whatever.
And in sacred groves and forests
You will find
The tree.

The tree: nature’s skyscraper,
Deep roots, hard bark and leafy canopy:
Linking the Underworld to The Heavens.
Looming beauty my words can but strive
To describe.

A tree can live for many an age,
Legends about it, even longer.
Since ancient times the tree has been revered.
The Norse People had Yggdrasil:
A cosmic tree linking many worlds.
Comprehend the Eastern Indian Kalpavriksha –
A jewel of a wish fulfilling tree.
The Peace Tree of the American Iroquois,
And many more.

In West Africa the Oubangui People plant a tree
Whenever a child is born.
The Bible tells of the Tree of Life
And the Tree of Knowledge
Growing there
In The Garden of Eden.

Bow to the Tree Goddess.
Bow to The Tree
Bow to its sturdy bough.

Our tree is home
To many a creature
Nymphs and Dryads too

A skyscraper indeed,
Full of life
Safe in its shade
Some behind walls
Of solid wood.

We lose ourselves
Just looking
At that tangle
Of twisting branches
Spiny twigs and clouds of leaves.
Will it stoop over
And pick us up
With its enormous

Or will it just keep playing us
A lullaby
With that whistling wind?  

Oh Tree,
You show such grandeur,
Goddess-like indeed:
Shaken by gales
Yet not disturbed
We trust.

Long Live The Tree –
Even giving us
The air we breathe.
Let your branches spread
While you reach ever upward –
A towering spire.

Paul Butters

© PB 26\5\2020. With due credit to Wikipedia.
I love trees.
May 2020 · 639
Paul Butters May 2020
What can I say about Queen?
A band who superseded The Beatles
And maybe even bettered them.
That Voice of Super Freddie
The Sun King indeed.
Brian May’s soaring guitar
Backed up by the typically quiet Bass Man
John Deacon
With Roger Taylor
Pounding those drums.

They were the complete package.
Even their lyrics were great.
Songs ranging from hard rock
To slow songs that ****** the soul.
Songs that will live forever.
Some that make me cry
And others that later make me
Get up and shadow-box
A heavier version of Freddie himself.

For Freddie Mercury was larger than life,
So cruelly taken from us
Too soon,
As John Lennon was.
And Elvis of course.
Too many bite the dust.

Bee dop bop bee dee bop
Bee bop, bee bop
Dee da day
With these immortal words
Freddie sends us
On our way.

Paul Butters

© PB 23\5\2020.
The Champions ?!!
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