Me, Paul Butters

I’m no author, novelist or poet.

I’m just Me,

And don’t I know it.

I don’t need to be classified,

As long as I’m writing, I’m satisfied.

Typing out words, line by line,

I don’t care if they don’t rhyme.

I don’t care if my verses don’t scan:

I’m not always an Iambic Man.

I just say what I gotta say,

I’m not worried about any pay.

Words come to me without much bidding,

The world of its evils I hope to be ridding.

I love to spread lots and lots of Love,

Bringing peace to all like a messenger dove.

Things of beauty bring joy, John Keats rightly said,

To make us sleep easy when we go to bed.

So I’ll paint what I paint,

And sing what I sing,

Just letting those words

Do their magical thing.

Paul Butters

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