The way the stars will shine,
the way your heart rises to greet the night
the emotion of your eyes
the countless thoughts floating in your sky.

Whether or not the universe reveals all its secrets,
whether or not our lives branch out like an infinite tree,
I know I'll be searching for you in every wavelength,
I will be dreaming of you and I.

Never doubt that who you are is beautiful,
and where I want to be.

Always know that tomorrow,
I'll be dreaming of us,
existing together in perfect synchrony.

Before the night comes cold and proper
When set against a fiery sky
The crooked limbs of a naked poplar
Have stirred a romance in my mind

And swaying with their kin and kind
My heavy heart asway in kind
Those wooden spines so hale and hearty
Like will-'o-wisps they'll soon depart me

God is van gogh

Your eyes are his starry night,
Your heart is his yellow house,
Your smile is brighter than the days of arles,
And your love opens at eternity’s gate.

I am a sketch,
Lost in the wastebin-
My heart is its tears,
My page is unfinished,
And my love has been tossed away for better ventures.

Yet I am still art
And I am still beauty-
After all, without me,
Where would be his masterpiece?

Repetition is the best petition.
Drive that refrain into your brain.
It’s my mission.
Driven on by Stewart Copeland the musician.
Drums and dance
Send me into a trance.
Transcendental music
Any way you choose it.

Repetition, repetition, repetition
Just as potent as nuclear fission.
Sometimes, for me, it’s just too much.
As crazy as Screaming Lord Sutch.
Yet here I make a telling submission
About the power of repetition
As beautiful as a painting by Titian.
A composition to appeal to your cognition
To get you into a better condition
Without transition.

There are four hundred and ninety rhymes
Of repetition
And that’s not something from superstition.
But I’d better avoid a war of attrition
Even with your kindly permission.
It’s great to prance
And have a dance.
I’m glad you’ve given
This poem a glance
To give its rhythms every chance.
My aim is to enhance
And cut through the boredom like a lance.

Poems are music
Poems are Romance
So let’s advance
Then make a stance.
That’s my position.

Paul Butters

© PB 2\2\2020 (first line written 31\1 then notes made 1\2). Final line added 3\2.

It’s all about the way you care,
With no ulterior motives there.
It makes a difference if to try and fix this,
You lay your soul out bare.

You can try, you can try, you can try to cut her down, but she’s not fallin,
You can try, you can try, you can try to pull her down, but she’s not movin,
You can try, you can try, you can try to make her drown, but she’s not drowning,
No she’s not drowning again!
She’s not dying again!

Desperation sound,
Makes her come around.
It means more when you are bleeding.
It makes her feel found.

You can cry, you can beg, you can try to change her mind, but she’s not changin.
You can snoop, you can sneak, you can lie right through your teeth, but she’s not believin.
You can push, you can shove, you can try to force her love, but she’s not loving.
No, she’s not loving you again!
She’s never looking back there again!

Don’t call her sadistic,
That will make her ballistic,
She’s just a willow tree with her roots in the ground.
She’s just animalistic.
So don’t try to change her or tear her down.
Herself, she’s finally found.

Time to write
Time to talk

No wasted effort
No wasted breath

Dusting off
Standing up

Less trash
Less tears

This time I **** my fears