All shrubbery around is shaken by the wind
As smoking grey clouds threaten rain.
But I sit snugly in my lounge
Idly contemplating a chicken-breast tea.

The long heatwave is over
For now.
Atlantic air has swept the mugginess
Aside.
Thermometers have settled down
While cooler moisture sooths our very souls.

This lounge of mine presents a landscape too:
Of settee, armchairs and table
Along with dining chairs and TV:
Mountains over carpet savannas.

But the kitchen calls me from next door
So no matter how lazy I feel
I really have to eat now.
This interlude must end
So very soon.

Paul Butters

© PB 29/7/2018.

Sitting, baking, smoking, faking
Smiles, glances, eyebrows, advances
Cigarettes, ****, flying, skied
Leaving, time, behind, I'm
Sweat, sweet, dalliance, discreet
Screamed, moaned, words, intoned

Sleep

As the sun slowly sets
The precursor to the week
With deadlines,
                            Orders,
                            ­               Oh so bleak
The calm before the storm
  Too restless to enjoy
For everybody knows
     It's sunday's melancholy ploy

    Responsibilities loom overhead
     Our heart as heavy as the air
      The world has now gone silent
              We sit in subtle fear

(sonnet #MMMMMMMCCXLIII)


So, if I wait until the morrow, pale
As aught excuse, we might continue thence
This theme:  I meant to scribble--for intents.
Espresso.  With sweet conversation, bail
For many years, passe, lost in betrayl
Since April was't?  This morning likeas hence
We'd never ceased, I sip with Dad, a sense
Of sweeter hours in tow as if t'avail.
And Wordsworth oer last bits of coffee, to
Effect where Sunday afternoon in tour
Could don a sense of happier years we knew
When Mum was still with us.  O tis a poor
Suggestion.  I cooked lunch with mishaps fer
Reminders of the LORD's great mercies:  new.

24Jun18

The only thing that woke me up this morning was the meow of my kitten who wanted to be let in. He wanted to enter my safe space where my feelings and thoughts were pinned to my stark walls. I wanted my walls to be white. Like a blank canvas. I wanted a reason to wake up in the morning. I wanted to paint my thoughts each day. My bed felt like quicksand. I was being forced to stay beneath my sheets by an imaginary pull that I felt was so real. From my bedroom window, I can see the sunset reminding me of nights in our hammock ******* to our favorite tree. The tree drooped in an odd but beautiful way, and it was fascinating. I can also see the sunrise that on early Sunday mornings motivated me to roll out of bed, that was many times ago. The only reason I get out of bed some mornings is that I have high hopes that one day we’ll meet again at the farmers market just down the street. You'll bump into me and realize what we once had was special. You'll realize our love was as sweet as an August peach.

out of bed and into your arms
your fresh eyes, morning hair and scruffy face,
your hands go up my sides and back around my waist as you
pull me close and take me in
no where else on earth feels this much like home,
I've never felt such security in fingertips before
loving you is like breathing
because I can't get enough

Yes, I am prolly the only fan of old, cold, coffee.  Over antique sonnets, too.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMCLXXX)


Soft blue heavn's arid eye ne clouds 'non fence
Though ah, how ghostly shadows haunt and trail
Across the rippling fields of grass detail
Below! look sweetly as in years gone--sense
Of all we'd known within their cast, til hence
The soul yields to is't childhood's carefree scale
As twere of hope? vain dreams' perspective hale
If we'd but 'llow ourselves to breathe, fr'intents.
And Maples' shaggy boughs nod; leaves astir
To aerie whispers, as the voice of who?
Some distant motorcyclist passing through
Upon these emptyer country roads in tour,
Lends 'scuse for placid calm, where Sunday fer
All that's excuse, the hol'day 'pon us too.

27May18b

Hi mama,

It doesn’t have to be Mother’s Day
For me to come up and say
That I love you (it's not just in May!)
Endlessly forgiving: your mother’s heart

Warm and caring in every way
Those without kids could never
Truly understand – including me
And even though you passed fifty,

Your patience with me is boundless
At times seems everlasting
Even though you passed fifty,
Your beauty and grace still blossoms!

Though you passed fifty,
You remain ever so young and full of spirit
Thank you for being my mother, mom
And thank you for letting me be your son, too.

Thank you for believing in me
As I believe in you.