the depths beyond light 
 of dark primordial fears
ensnared in a trap of
  winding dangerous paths
    'tween passion and fire,
horizons like ink clouded seas
  of menacing madness and
    drunkenness' sanity midst
    psychobabble's inquisitions
rushing rampant to devour
  an overgrown hypothesis
    of imagination's luxuriance
   and anesthetics' coherency,
taming perpetual motion
   of  windswept emotions
lingering in shadows of
  moonbows after resolute
  mind bending storms of
   teeming reigns &
     elusive transcendence
  amid skillfully evasive grapples
       beyond liberated rationality

I can rise to any daily challenge,
Except the diagnosis;
Then the days of respite
Are scripted,
The scales are tipped
To measure meaning.

     Yesterday I felt the pressure
     Of my father's hand
     While I wed the garden;
     Never thinking I'd long
     For those days.

Memories fade cool.
First, I wonder,
Then, I ponder,
Now I worry.

     I've read
     The Death of Ivan Ilych,
     I know It.

I'll give traitors
A sneering reprieve,
Dismiss,
Turn my back,
Breathe between the particles
Of a middle-class life,
Then languish
Between your clean eyes.
Will you miss Christmas
This year?
Am I asking too soon
About fewer rooms?

You ask me,
Do I miss you?
How can I miss you?
You are always with me,
Your face behind my eyes,
Your soul sleeping in my heart,
The essence of you dances for me,
Sinuous curves shimmy within shadows.

You ask me,
Do I love you?
You should be asking,
How much you love me?
Then measure that feeling,
Holding it tightly deep inside,
Knowing that I feel just the same,
With every single fibre of my being.

You ask me,
Do I miss you?
Perhaps, I might sigh,
The very truth, though,
Is that I miss you terribly,
Is that part of me aches for you,
Though we are intrinsically entwined,
Sometimes, such closeness is not enough.

You ask me,
Do I love you?
Do you need to ask?
I live and breathe you,
As you live and breathe me,
Your roads lead to me, woman,
I am by your side, holding your hand,
One day, we will surely arrive together.

You ask me,
Do I miss you?
Everyday baby,
Never doubt it is so,
My pain is like your own,
Insomnia, numbing, yearning,
Hiding tears in the soft darkness,
But knowing, we will be free, one day.

©Paul M Chafer 2015

I woke up one day
The end of my bed,
A jewelry box
Pink as the ribbon they used to represent her;
I traced over her disappearing fingertips
The rim of the box clicked open,
It clicked to life
The music tickling my ears;
A plastic ballerina stands as a guardian
Hands in the air
Waiting for someone to join her,
Twirling around like my eyes that follow her,
To see we are all alone

Strong emotions huddle into a space called heart
build up so dense are soon ripped apart
the heat drives them to expand too fast
but time dictates slow down they must.

the strong energy the explosion unleash
go on to create stars galaxies
that retreat from one another but oh what a fate
the final fallout is an unsteady state!

the orb of light is my destiny.

in my dark valley
escape is a blind flight
on the moonless night

when heavy lies the fog on wing
neath misty sky crickets sing
beckons me the halogen

come embrace forget pain.

be afraid not of the one recourse
come what may fly to the source
soak in the fire of the drizzled night
life is precious with death on sight.

caught in wire stuck on fence
dying this night makes only sense
i fall like rains and at last free

the orb of light is my destiny.

It's a small bed we share
barely enough for the two
but big enough for the pair
to see the years sail through.

The wood now creaks with age
shrunk thin the old mattress
weighed down with passing days
buoyed up with embrace.

The pillows are thick with stains
of tears that flowed all the while
from rivers of joys shared pains
upon travel of the long trying miles.

Loyally it carries us along
our bed of priceless worth
could mere wood be that strong
if not bonded with warmth!

We are not that, they, them, or us
We are I
We are me
We drag others behind us and call them friends
We surround ourselves with people who think we are more than we see
With people who are less than we
For alone, I am...invisible
Unseen, it remains unreal
Masks of faith
Worn out by the faithless masses
There is truth in the worn out, "I am nothing without you"
In We, I matter
In We, I exist
Without an audience it isn't a show
We are I

downward roots of destroyed origin
savage past, a native to pain
just an ember from a fire, endemic
my people used to be the flame

Birth is  a beginning
and death a destination
And life is a journey:
from childhood to maturity
and youth to age;
from innocence to awareness
and ignorance to knowing;
from foolishness to discretion and then, perhaps to wisdom;
from weakness to strength
or strength to weakness -
and often back again.
From health to sickness and back we pray to health again;
from loneliness to love,
from joy to gratitude, from pain to compassion,
and grief to understanding -
from fear to faith until,
looking backward or ahead,
we see that victory lies
not at some high place along the way,
but in having made the journey, a sacred pilgrimage.
Birth is a beginning and death a destination.
But life is a journey,
from birth to death......to life everlasting.!

Sammy