Street Writer (Part Two)

The first time I was introduced to poetry was in primary school. The teacher picked up an old dusty book off her desk – opened it and read it out aloud.

God only knows who the poet was… but I definitely know now looking back it had to be one of those old romantic poets. I’m not a fan of Yeats or Keats or Wordsworth, but appreciate any writer or artist who completes a piece of accomplished art.

That’s the aim!

No matter how great, terrible, good, bad, mediocre or something in-between it is…

But, don’t forget to share your work!

It’s a shame to leave it lying there gathering dog hairs and dirt… it might as well be dead… sure you wouldn’t do that with your life would you!

Now… back to the original story!

So, after my teacher read out the poetry she asked us to write our own.

I was in love with a girl in my class that year. Well, I had been in love with her since primary one when I first saw her sitting on a tiny chair at a tiny desk making friends.

I looked over at her like she was a muse and wrote my poems.

We were given a theme which was: the seasons of the year.

I wrote four poems called: spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Funnily enough my granny still hangs them up on her fridge every year.

When my granny read my adult poetry… which is quite explicit and deep, she asked me one day when I went to visit her “where did that other poet go son?”…

As you go along you will grow and develop as a writer and an artist and you won’t always write about what you wrote about when you were a child or a teenager or a young man or even you become a god damn MAN.

Going back to the girl in class… you see, I had a crush on this girl (and I don’t name anyone in my stories out of respect) but, I did get with her eventually and we had our first kiss at a kids’ hall in our town. Later on in our lives we met at a rock night and when it was over me and my friends walked them home. We were eighteen years young and we were talking about being together in the past. She told me she kept a diary back then and she wrote about me in it. I asked her “what did you write?” she said “I wrote in it that you were my first kiss!” I even think to myself till this day ‘It was nice knowing you were someone’s first kiss’…

Because most men hope to be the first guy to penetrate a girl, but I think mine was more like poetry… the same poetry we heard in that classroom and the same poems I wrote while looking at her beauty!

But, I’ve had a lot of women come and go in my life since her (there was quite a few before her too). Love has not been my forte. Even though I have just got a text there now from an ex-girlfriend asking me how I am today. Maybe we will go into this a bit later on ha-ha…

Instead of a poem this time I will leave you with a story. It is a 100 word story. It is a challenge I took up when I found the magazine this year. The story is 100 words and you don’t count the title. Maybe it is something you could try?

I gave up ten years of my life mainly to write poems. I only started getting back into fiction writing this year. I did write screen stories for my poetry films throughout those ten years but that’s as close as I got to writing fiction.

If you’re a poet like myself – that’s great, but don’t forget there are other avenues to explore!

There is fiction… there is journalism… there is script writing etc!

I am actually in the middle of writing a TV comedy series and a play with two different friends. I am trying to write a philosophical fable. I fixed up and finished off my first short feature film that has been in development for ten years. I have started a new short feature film on the fear of violence and a hell of a lot more.

But like I said… if you are not sharing this work with the right people and in the right places then it’s worthless.

And something every writer and artist is afraid of is: REJECTION!

When you grow and mature with your writings and art you will realise this is all a part of the game and all I can say to you is: LEARN TO NOT GIVE A SHIT!

The moment you let go of rejection and ridicule you will come into yourself and be an artist!

Believe me… even the greats knew this!


Time for the story and to say goodbye for now…

Until next time my beauties…


Stick with it and share it and say fuck it with two middle fingers up in the air!

I never knew I would be a poet

I was in primary school – P5 to be precise. She was reading a book of poetry out to us. Honestly, I don’t remember who the poet was. It could have been Milton – it could have been Wordsworth, but it definitely wasn’t Bukowski or Sexton! I was inspired and wrote the first poem of my childish life… I was in love in that class with one girl. I looked over at her every day and continued to write collections of poems looking for my truth and it ended up being love with a hint of sex as a tired old man!  


Paul Butterfied Junior









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