Even at my age,
I see mountainous lands in the sky,
Languishing among towering clouds,
A lofty empire, lost kingdoms,
Perhaps a strange magical realm,
Thriving with dwarves and giants,
Maidens in towers awaiting rescue,
Where lone horse warriors wander,
Maybe observing us, far below.

Must be a poetic creative thing,
Or simply the child deep within,
Viewing through the eyes of the man,
Dreaming ancient days of long ago,
When the child yearned to be grown,
To know all there is to know,
Never appreciating escapism,
The chance to drift within time,
Ponder upon distant, aerial, worlds.

Or maybe I’m just a dreamer,
That and nothing more, hmm,
Telling myself, I am a poet,
A procrastinating creative spirit,
In love with the trappings of art,
The child asleep within wisdom,
Languishing among towering clouds,
I see mountainous lands in the sky,
Even at my age.

©Paul M Chafer 2015

Some say
she is lost to writing poems
snippets, little vignettes of beauty
so much nature inspired, obsessed
with green, botany driven desires
forever in skies, blue, or black with stars
meteor showers, falling, melting
like the liquid silver, red sea of mars
crashing waves, her days
tossed, tumbled, stumbling onto poetry
there is no fault, in words
no shame to be made
would be a sorrowful price to pay
she is writing to find
some truths, a sleuth, a seeker
of going within, without doubt
writing to find herself
most days searching out signs of life
to feel what it would be like, to be
in trees, in leaves, to sleep in green towers
of garden lily bowers
to finally dream in lucid colors, surreal
climbing invisible ladders
in orchards of apple blossom Springs
to sing, sing, sing

I think of mountains
the way they climb for the sky
losing their way through clouds.
Looking up I never know if they reach the top
or if they see me way down here?
Some kind of ant, I dig for rocks
a pocket full of turquoise blue
a miner for Apache jewels
exposed by red dust winds
as the day chips away
and carves a night
into black obsidian.

we're wild creatures
loving, yearning, touching, seeking.

she's all sunlight today,
running, learning, humming, being.

i'm at the mercy of those eyes-- i've realized
she is not the edge of oblivion, but rather hiding in a state of it sometimes.
her detachment to this plane might run rampant but she can't deny this.
she can't deny us. there's sparks when we meet, our auras collide, unseen to human eye.

what a lovely thing, this creature of beauty. we're glimmering, glowing and the golden light reflects from her hair and on to me. she's no angel but i swear it's a halo surrounding us.

i press my cheek to hers. i match gazes, fingers entwined. she grins, and god, i've never seen something more entrancing. all i can do is hold on for dear life.

she holds out her hand and with a simple command, "spin for me,"
and i do. i spin and spin and she smiles with satisfaction. i'm hers, i'm her dancer, even if only for a moment.

one more brief touch, she leaves a sweet chamomile scent and spring air in her wake.

my heart is so full.
this is love, this is love, this is love.

lit the dark of one lone
shone from some prosaic shine
turned on the sun
hung every star
brought near far
clothed the bare naked
thawed their cold
forgave the wrongs
praised the heroes
solved the mysteries
answered the question
asked the answers
colored the dawn
fought all battles
died with kin
lived in sin
fear never ever
the darkest nights
died on pyres
cloistered in slavery
alone in forests
saw in eyes
died in ecstasy
brought forth beauty
painted ugly
claimed a right
to be named
poetry.

yesterday was sky and small dresses,

all work, some worry due to tiredness.

yesterday the green house came, different

than expected, yet a treat none the less.

sometimes we miss the hyphen, the proper

format, we are not as expected either. yet

we does our best, sits in the suns, and plan

to hang dresses in the trees.

the sky is pinc this morning.

not a typo, pinc is welsh for pink,

as i have said before.

sbm.

Tonight, thinking on you,
My mind is ablaze, fully illuminated,
Akin to a fabled city swinging in festival,
You light me up inside, and I glow brightly,
Bathed within the warmth of your sweet love.

Tonight, thinking on you,
My heart is dancing the greatest dance,
Revelling, an unbridled pleasurable release,
Passionate love flowing freely in our kisses,
Smooching, swaying, in each other's embrace.

Tonight, thinking on you,
Our spirits are riding upon crazy horses,
Galloping over moonlit plains, racing the stars,
Our nakedness glistening with heady scents,
Mind, hearts and spirits, subtly joined as one.

Tonight, thinking on you.

drive it one spring

morning early before the traffic

starts.

i have done it many

times before , know the road,

villages, the pretty bends.

taliesin, bow street, clarach.

yesterday a sea fret, misted trees,

added edge ; visual delight.

i like the road to aberystwyth.

sbm.