Cool ivory, his fingers touch;
A masterful sound.

Melodies crushed, words hush,
Heavy bonds do the notes make,
Beneath the weight of tears.

Pure white, dim-light,
Notes escape from warm breath;
The show goes on.

The revolution left you spinning, now you’re sitting where you stood,
Can’t go back to the beginning, wouldn’t fight this if you could,
In the garden that you hated, where nothing has ever grown,
Under shadows where we waited, until the light left us alone,
With our indifferent indecision, and stolen bottles in your car,
We’ll drink until we’re happy here, happy with who we are,
Reaping the rewards of repetition, less memorable memories,
Stumbling sick with superstition in the safety of disease,
But come morning better angels will be beating down our doors,
With tools in hand, their best-laid plans will build us better wars,
Daydream a hero’s fate, but I was too late, lost on that battlefield,
Too dull to be that sword you fell on, and far too weak to be your shield,
Now left with a threadbare chair and TV glare, a dusty driver’s seat,
That unworn path and drunken sailor’s laugh, still mourning my defeat,
But I can’t go back or throw it all away, the things I never meant to be,
A castle built on compromise, a pile of clothes shaped just like me,
So maybe now is not the time to sit and count the things we’ve lost,
How can we admit defeat, when so much hell remains uncrossed?

In my Dreams I see scenes I haven't experienced, I remember what I so wish to live & I miss nonexistent times.
My soul is now nourished by a mature heart, my actions overseen by a mind that lacks a bad intention, & my being aches for something which for there is a distant line.
As I sleep I see her & I miss her. My dear friend, I one day fell lost into the moon light gleaming on your face & stood ardently found in your chestnut eyes.
When I hold your hand I can feel my chest in your palm, as your breathe calms my heart races, & I feel the pain you carry from your past, & my eyes bathe in your cries.
You said you were scared to lose me, & just when I thought we couldn't be anymore similar I learned we share a common fear.
Friend or Lover, In the flesh or spiritually, your presence, your aura is one my being requests daily for emotional nutrition & no premise will ever exist to keep me from being here.
When I laugh with you my troubles become silent, my worries are the softest of whispers & my joys howl ferociously a pleasure that demands to be heard & one so true.
The day I stared into your eyes under wonderland painted concert lights in a moment to be cherished I felt myself die Only to be reborn, only to tell God I couldn't stay, that I had to come back, come back for you.

she is seen to appear in moonlit nights
in her bridal dress and sparkling jewelry
though the sparkles may just be fireflies
and her bridal dress a will-o-wisp
silhouetted by the playful moon
smiling in broken ripples on her toe.

she stands on the pond's edge
gazing at the crested sparks of moon
fathoming the depth of the grey slime
where he once reached to lay in peace
and she followed through fireflies and ripples
leaving in the winds her echoes.

suppose you aren't assured of the next meal
upon your head rules the sky
maggots are feeding on your free will
better seems the option to die.

suppose you've none to give company
not a soul to call your own
days seem to crawl with no hurry
nights only make you more alone.

suppose open road is where you stay
sometimes a tree to beat the sun
people are bent on moving away
you've no home for day-end run.

suppose you've nothing called privacy
can't afford the luxury of shame
you relieve yourself for all to see
don't recall if you ever had a name.

suppose you've to scavenge from dustbin
your dignity is trampled like road's dirt
could they all make you feel a poem within
write a line crystalline in your heart?

Thrumming life-threads are weaving the day,
Myriad summer colours of an abstract view,
Curling up between and under the far away.

I’m lost in the mix, a melting *** full of play,
My own shade of Dark, a subtle blended hue,
Thrumming life-threads are weaving the day.

Beautiful retro splendour, asking me to stay,
Flower in her hair, white petals, edged blue,
Curling up between and under the far away.

Smiling, she raises my soul from feet of clay,
Dark and Stormy cocktail easing me through,
Thrumming life-threads are weaving the day.

Cuban rhythm dancers give a riotous display,
Bohemian sight and sound unleashed on cue,
Curling up between and under the far away.

We sample dreams from an enchanted tray,
Allowing hearts, minds, and spirits to renew,
Thrumming life-threads are weaving the day,
Curling up between and under the far away.

©Paul M Chafer 2015

Like many of you I'm getting fed up
With all the petty points scoring **** on this site
Some of you are brilliant classical writers
Some just write for love
I'm just a simple man
Very little education
But surely we are here for the same thing,
The love of words and the structure of words
You might have a doctorate
The very best money can buy
While I, like very many here have nothing
But does that really make you better than me/us
NO, it doesn't
I see you here on the same level as squabbling children
And yet you are supposed to be adults
ADULTS!!! What a ******* laugh
For the most parts spoiled ******* brats
All trying to score points

This IS a poetry site, ******* well grow up and use it as such