There are those times when certainty comes easy.
Why have they fled
The panting hands of my clock
That are sprinting to catch up
With them?

That black and white circle is like
A racetrack from hell,
One no one can ever escape
And a race one can never win.

So how is it
That we find the strength
To keep on running?

"I just wanted you to know that if you deserved my time, I'd be making it free for you."

Silence and sadness are not one
But laughter and tears can be
Hearts born to woe eat at others
Because they never had the chance to grow
he was
The contrast of a rainbow
he is
The light that used to glow

If you were any less intriguing
I'd be able to tell you
Why you draw me

It's not that I'm making a rash statement of love
-aren't those usually too hasty anyways?-
But I have to ask if there's a possibility
If you have slightly begun to feel
The connection that I can feel
Inside your amazing self
Too?

In every “Poetry Place”
There is a Copycat Corner.
We know it’s a disgrace
So here’s another “Warner”.

Why they do it I’ll never know,
Those Copier and Pasters.
Their words they seem to glow,
But they’re a bunch of Wasters.

Taking all that praise,
For stuff they haven’t written,
It seems to be a craze,
And many do get bitten.

Just Google their “fine words” or use those plagiarism sites,
And you will find the original poems
Bedecked with copyrights.

I’m sure this place just isn’t free
Of people like this,
Just look and see!!!

The Admins must get their fingers out,
And give these villainous rogues a massive clout.
Me, I will show all due diligence,
But my job here,
Is to show My brilliance.
(NOT someone else’s!).

Paul Butters

I often look at the ground wishing to see the world
But only to find myself, staring at dirt
I often look at the sky wishing to see the world
But only to find myself, staring at none
I look around, what ever surrounds,
But all I see are the walls that have trapped me

But then I see you with me
You looked at me, and as I looked back
I saw in your eyes,
the real world that was just infront of me

Why is it that evrytime I am trying
To study for my exams, to prevent me from failing
I often find my self just staring
To the ceiling that once was nothing but plain boring
But after studying, the ceiling becomes more interesting
Tell me what is it with studying, that makes everything
Interesting
Well everything, except for studying...

Her feet rose and fell
between fields of paddy

the grass bowed
then looked up on her way.

If only she had wings
and the winds carried her to her sister
she could land right on the yard of her hut
and take her home by the return flight
but her mind soared no less
so before the sun favored the west
she was right by her
laughing and talking like the yore
with only a line of vermilion
that she felt had come between them.

Soon she looked around
and making sure no one was watching
brought out from her skirt a mango.

She gave it to her like
she was giving a piece of her heart
plump yellow green
with the most delicious nectar hidden within
and when she narrowed her lips
to drink from the gift
her tears poured like the summer rain
mingling with the cries of the parched earth.