The incessant march of time, is marked by the music of seasons,
wind blows, clouds race, rain in torrents fall, flowers bloom,
when I invariably return to see that perennial bloom on your lips,
time stands still, how we love this space beyond the reach of time!

I was infinity itself, as my father, in a poem he lovingly created,
wanted me to be figured, made me descend from a dream he had.
My mom, most fondly held this form, close to her heart
the epitome of her love for her man and the bloom in her womb
she gifted it, and they both together in a love boat, brought me home,
she held me closer to her *****, so warm I was even in coldest
of nights, yet another poem it indeed was, love set it's  tune.

        In a cloud of stardust I was, yearning to see far off stars dance,
through million years, I swirled, twisted, turned,found love in the end,
love brings perfection, my journey assumed  many many themes
love transformed a speck of dust; found a shiny little diamond.

In the inner labyrinths
when I  walk alone
a gazing benevolent  eye, I see,
the helix nebula of my origin
watching me, intently
beloved star, once a dazzling sun,
you refuse to go quietly
in to the night's ferocity
mother dear, in your core
undying love still burns
singing my favorite old lullaby.

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

The pink places he
kissed on her body
opened up the way
flowers do in the
season of spring.
And the fluids that
came out looked
like morning dew
on the petals before
the sunshine pours
down and dries them
off drop by drop* ~

She chases her men, she weeps and cries,
O' how do I tell her, she is being blind.
She falls each time, telling herself lies,
Try hard to tell her, what she looks for, she won't find.

I tell her and I tell you too,
Your love isn't for the person but for the image in your mind,
So is the other, in love with an image of you.
This kind of love, so misaligned.

That's all a relationship is,
The conflict of a mental image,
What you feel, you think it's bliss,
But are befooled by a mirage.

The illusion, created based on your past,
The image, projected based on your need,
Love is to be felt, not forced to last,
You become time and again, a victim of your greed.

You never fall in love with the person,
But with the feelings you give yourself,
Realize this, you will be loving without a reason,
You will come home to your true self.