The relative I am most fond with
I could never thank you enough
for everything that you've done for me
Forever standing by my side
Picking me up when I am down
And making me laugh more than anyone ever has

You are always there to listen to my troubles
And give me the advice I need to hear
I can tell you everything without the fear of judgement I might silently receive from some of my friends
You've helped realize what kind of person I was becoming
And showed me how to break through that wall that was visible to everyone but me
The one that held me back from everything I've ever needed

I know you are enduring some things that only time could heal
You've moved your whole life to this small town
At first it didn't impact you
This is what we've been hoping would happen for so long
But then it hit
And everything slowly became a reality
I can't help but to feel guilty for not being able to help you
You always claim that you're okay
That me listening is enough

And as I write this poem
I realize that just might be true

Again, thank you.

I wish I could say something good
About growing old and dying.
For sixty years I had a great relationship
With Mum,
But then that demon Dementia brought her
Living Death.

She thought in the end I’d
Betrayed her,
“Allowing her to be put in a home”.
And then, to rub it in,
She was allegedly abused and badly bruised
By evil members of staff.
Mum passed away
Two months later.
The last time I saw her
She was waiting to be taken to the loo
As I was ushered out.

We all grow old,
Gradually fading away,
Tormented by Diabetes, hypertension
And strokes.
Full of arthritis
And gammy knees.

The list of ills goes on,
No proverbial light at the end
Of the tunnel.

So all I can say is live for
Now.

Make the most of our Share of Time.
Take comfort in passing on the baton
To the likes of Jacob
My great nephew.
Teach him and his peers
As well as we can
To take care of The Earth
A **** sight better
Than we have.

Try to Improve ourselves,
Keep growing
Every single day.
Keep learning
Experiencing
Living
As long as we can.

Paul Butters

© PB 8\1\2018.

You're always saying, "I mean of course I love him... he's my dad". You should see your face when you say that. You don't light up, your hands don't get warmer, your heart doesn't skip a beat. No, you say "of course I love him... but..." and your whole face sinks. Tell me all about how great he is then! How he hit you, how he's always drunk. On the phone yesterday you said "love you" before hanging up and... the static on the other end just laughed.

tell me about the memories that don't belong to me again

about the days i wasn't there
and you found yourself
in conpany of a blank stare

those are days we did not share .


stop ******* telling me about the things i did when i was a baby
i don't remember ****
and you smell weird.

I am here a poet
And like I do,
Someone messaged me
Like a friend ,I replied
She gave me her mail
That she had an important story to share
Like a man,I gave her mine
She was thankful
But soon she turned a refugee
Under refuge in Senegal
And desperate for help
She asked my occupation
She asked my account details
She asked for my support to transact
$55000
I refused all of them
Now she needs money
To come and meet me on Kenya.
I went ahead
To check her account in here
And she had a one COPY PASTED POEM,
And she was got,
If you are the one,
Kindly try when I am drank
I will pour out all my secrets
I will transfer half of my money to you,
The only problem is
I love Christ
And I don't go near a pub
Leave alone getting drunk.
I will disclose your details!