Only name the day, and I shall be there

This morning the notification woke me up

With still sleep in my eyes I reached for my phone

And the tone  

lingers from that Twi in my ear

Annei I love you though, despites his tears

To forget the world, and they negativities

Of a love such as ours, it clean, it’s pure

Love does not speak volumes(quote)

It speaks the honesty of another one confession,

Loving another person is hard work,

Only true love to me is a newborn baby love

for its mother, he trusts her immediately  



As we gaze into each other eyes,

We smile, we reminisce we both lied:

We try to outdo each other:

Was I king liar or was he king Lear?

Revealing too much, or revealing a little

Listen carefully, and responding with affection

Or simply use the body language

This fool will get back to you.

And old gal interpretation of fear not want not

We really don’t get each other:

My darkest fear is why did he walk

The dark street of Accura at 3.am?

That’s when my psychoanalysis study step in:

Where the boy seeks, love in an old familiar place

the street love of his childhood dream;

I asked of him not cut his hair

It makes him look like a youth,

Older men take advantage of desperate  

Looking youth, because of the boyish look,  

and that all it took:

Meat for the belly, and the belly for the meat(quote)

So, happily this morning I decline,  

You learn a lot about a man by his behavior when hungry. ~ Zambian Proverb

The older we grow
the faster life goes,
priorities change
quality of living
and loving takes
precedent, over
self-indulgence
and material things.
Nothing as important
as family and friends.

It is racing now,
these fleeting days
and years, reflected
most in my grandsons
growing too soon from
children to young men.

Along with Steller parents
our little farm provides
a learning ground for the
kids, teaching life lessons
that inspire character and
self-discipline, with Cows
and pigs to show at fairs,
pride earned with accomplishments
and Blue Ribbons to share.

So lucky am I having a ringside
seat, watching yet another family
generation grow and ascend,
Football and basketball
games to attend, Christmas
morns of excited children
clamoring down the stairs,  
many birthday celebrations
with ever more candles aglow.
Memories all, retained and shared.

Perhaps the best part is,
these grandsons of mine,
still are up for hugs and
good night kisses, genuine
affection received and given.

Families are a true blessing
and a privilege, the only
real reason we are here.

All these things, remain the
sweet frosting on my aging
Grandfather's cake of life.
I sometimes wonder where
I would be without all these,  
my reasons for being?

I love to tell a story
Factual or made up.
And I love to type free verse,
Even the occasional rhyme
From time to time.

Love making conversation
Watching telly
Playing on Facebook
And surfing that ocean called The Worldwide Web.

In the nineteen sixties or seventies or whenever
I read a book in Pudsey Library
About a teacher who encouraged his students
To express themselves fully in free verse.

He wrote of short lines that
Shock!
And longer lines that linger in their elucidation of logical algorithms.
But otherwise there were no rules,
No doggerel-metres to follow,
Just freedom of expression.
So now I write this way myself.
Or rather, type.

And I keep typing.
Always typing.
One thing or another.
Constantly compelled to type
Something or other
Whether it’s a piece like this
Or not.

I keep on posting
And sharing
On the internet
Posting and sharing.
Hoping of course
That you will heed my words
And maybe have a go
Yourself.

Paul Butters

© PB 22\2\2023.

My precious Baby
My wonderful child
My headstrong teenager
Gone radically wild.

My breathtaking grownup
My source of delight
My hope that tomorrow
Makes everything right.

The decades have trebled
My efforts have failed
My key cannot open
The place where I’m jailed.

She’s made me a stranger
To the life she’s created
She claims that she loves me
But I sorely debate it.

She married in secret
I’ve not met her groom
I don’t think we’ll ever
Be in the same room

She says I am toxic
All know I am not
Her shrink is the villain
And ought to be shot.

I live on the outside
And only look in
On the life I created-
A game I won’t win.

I’ll swallow my heartbreak
As I’ve always done.
Still reach for redemption
And settle for none.
ljm

Out of gratefulness came gracefulness.

A grateful being makes
a graceful being.


Shell ✨🐚