Paul Butters Poems

This is not poetry.
No embracing the wonders of the universe
Or deafening you with rhetoric.
No apple blossom aromas
...

Back in the day,
When I was a little whipper snapper in Leeds,
We would go "chumping", as we called it, for firewood,
For weeks and weeks.
...

It has been said to me
That poetry
Is but Words
And Gobbledygook.
...

Deep within the spacial abyss that is my brain
There lies a little blue planet called "Paul".
Hidden away from most of reality
This world is full of wondrous dreams.
...

Those eyes
So sad
So loving, loyal and true.
Who can resist that look
...

So you would conquer the world.
Do what Napoleon and Hitler tried to do.
Take all our lands
And submit them to your Law.
...

An Irish couple buy some fertilised duck eggs and they hatch.
But then they're missing!
The cat is licking her lips.
Oh No!
...

There's a group called 'Madness',
Play a thing called 'Ska'.
Though their music's jerky,
Suggsy is a star.
...

Bruised and battered egos:
Retaliations -
Flaming tornadoes spiral up to stormy skies.
Mixed metaphors of caviar and custard
...

On the East Coast of England there's a small resort
Called Cleethorpes, where I happen to reside.
And out towards the Pleasure Park
A short way from the shore
...