I told you that I wanted to float

and so you took me to the pool,
tipped my body slowly,
your hold on the curve of my back
the precarious fulcrum.

With shallow breath and the sun in my eyes
I think I fell in love with you a thousand times over.

Your eyes like pools of the clearest water beckon me,
beg me to drink from them.
With each blink,
their color grows warmer,
smoother, more welcoming.
I move closer, toeing the edge of your abyss,
heeding no warnings of eternal falling with the miss of a step.
The swirls of blue mirror the sky
on the most beautiful day,
mesmerizing me, hypnotizing me,
easily fooling me into stepping in
without testing the depth of your water.
My blind faith does not lead me to drown.
Instead,
your waters surround me,
wrapping me in warmth and keeping me afloat.
Each blink is a wave rocking me steady,
rhythmically, peacefully,
matching my own heartbeat,
repeating, promising an ever-continuing symphony,
a lullaby
that claims an end to my nightmares.

Writing poetry is like playing billards.

All points of "contact" have each diameter in seeking a pocket.

Poetry you are writing, of experience, and weaving it into a smart expression!

Too portray, your reality, with out need for a ticket.

Seats always full because, your the star only bright, and lovely with great behaviors and good commoditys.

Also some times a dense comedy.

Your always playing games with friends mostly monopoly.

Now you can play king because you met with geology.

As we where played, tunes praised by jesters and "overly psychology".

I feel like jumping, in your arms.
Into the pools of desire that your eyes are.
Your beautiful, soulful eyes that make me look at myself in the mirror,
A few seconds longer than usual.
I want to jump, at every opportunity life ever awarded me with.
To grab it and seize the best before anyone blinks.
I want to dive, whilst I can,
In a room full of balloons,
Burst a few while I am at it and laugh endlessly at my childish behavior.
But I can't.
I don't want to, anymore.

And here I stand, with a swollen face.
Eyes that have jumped deep into a tear pool before any slumber engulfed them.
Heart that has long forgotten to skip a beat.
Legs that have forgotten to sprint behind friends in a tickle battle.

I stand here, ready to jump.
From the edge of end into the waters of another world.
Will the other world give me what I crave for.
I'll have to jump and see.

I sit at the pool of Bethesda waiting for my turn to come,
I've sat by this pool for 38 years witnessing the healing of some,
O Bethesda , where was i when angels came to stir thine water?
I was here nights and days waiting earnestly just like the others,
I waited yes i waited,
For 38years i waited
The angels came and stirred,
Yes they stirred and others entered
But all i've done is wait, wait and wait.

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