Me, Paul Butters

I’m no author, novelist or poet. I’m just Me, And don’t I know it. I don’t need to be classified, As long as I’m writing, I’m satisfied. Typing out words, line by line, I don’t care if they don’t rhyme. I don’t care if my verses don’t scan: I’m not always an Iambic Man. I just say what I gotta say, I’m not worried about any pay. Words come to me without much bidding, The world of its evils I hope to be ridding. I love to spread lots and lots of Love, Bringing peace to all like a messenger dove. Things of beauty bring joy, John Keats rightly said, To make us sleep easy when we go to bed. So I’ll paint what I paint, And sing what I sing, Just letting those words Do their magical thing. Paul Butters