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He just dreams craves to be nothing
soars he never on ambition’s wing
a win for him is not even worth
he’s happy to be a loser from birth!

He talked so little they thought him shy
the teachers caught him looking at sky
never won a reward or a good grade
but you know of loss he isn’t afraid!

A good job wasn't meant to be his
a girl to love him lend him a kiss
the one he took fancy soon took flight
found another guy winner and bright!

He doesn’t regret not having a fat purse
his lack of aim and mediocrity’s curse
he would rather give away the game
retrieve from dust a windblown poem!

They call him a loser a defeatist a flop
a toddler lifelong while others gallop
he is contented with his chosen pace
happy to look around not run the race!
 Apr 2015 Keith A Lake
A
Adoration
 Apr 2015 Keith A Lake
A
You make me feel the way a cool glass of water tastes splashing down your throat on a feverish summer day. You make me feel the way the sun clings to the sky up until it's last enticing moment before kissing it goodbye. You make me feel like a long lost dog that has just returned home. You make me feel like a sleep deprived insomniac that has been granted a good nights rest. You make me feel like I am a minuscule bug drawn to your fascinating light. Above all you make me feel the deepest, purest, most astonishing love.
 Apr 2015 Keith A Lake
A
3am is an awful place to be, it is not a time, but rather a place.
A despicable destination riddled with heartbreak and despair.
I do not wish 3am on my foremost enemies.
 Apr 2015 Keith A Lake
A
Touch
 Apr 2015 Keith A Lake
A
When your hands flutter over my skin, my body trembles under your light touch.
Your being is illuminated perfectly under the faded street lights.
This is the moment I have pictured many times and many ways.
Your kiss is exhilarating leaving me wanting more, I feel helpless pushed against your body.
I have no control over how I move or what words spill out of my mouth.
Your mere presence makes me melt like honey left out on a hot day.
Forbidden Fruit,
Oh yes, an acquired taste,
One I have sampled, hmm,
So long, this was denied me,
And now, the taste is good:
So, so very good; ah.
I indulged myself further,
Using hands to explore,
Becoming explored myself,
And how I enjoyed.
Oh yes, truly fulfilled,
Until I became quite dizzy,
Lost in abundant sweetness,
Things turned around,
Until up was down,
Until it was I, being consumed.
The world tilted, slipped away.
My mind woozy, cossetted,
My senses swimming, whirling,
With slowly falling blossom.
Reason floated away, danced,
With soft petals in the breeze,
Twirling among scented flowers,
And I discovered the truth.
Whomever claimed, stated,
That forbidden fruit, so juicy,
Is bad and to be avoided,
Can never have tasted,
Forbidden fruit.
for a challenge.
Our butterflies, and sweet, rosebuds,
Languishing lazily within a dream,
Once together, but now lost forever,
In fading memory’s drifting stream.

We shared every pleasure, she and I,
Two girls embracing, love so sweet,
Tasting our butterflies and rosebuds,
Consuming our passion’s, *****-heat.

We explored all nature had to offer,
Sun-drenched glades, darkened woods,
Fantasising, and illicitly tantalising,
Our butterflies, and sweet, rosebuds.
Dedicated to Jeanne Midtowns and inspired by her poem ‘Coming Om’ to understand the full flavour of this poem, a visit to Jeanne’s poem is required.
I remember now,
Trying not to fall in love,
Fighting the emotional pull.
Just one of the best feelings ever,
It teases, taunts, torments, and plays,
With alluring, delightful sweetness.
Especially during the early hours,
Though not in a bad way, never that,
But in a self-serving pleasing way.
Having one latch onto certain tunes,
Replay those pleasurable moments,
Unfasten the catch releasing desire,
Indulging in salacious imagery,
Until eventually, we are grounded,
Or, we manage to escape, floating free.
Either way, the secret inner-resistance,
Is lovely to behold, making one smile,
Laugh unexpectedly, or consider deeply,
All within the space of a few heartbeats.
One becomes wholly consumed, yes,
Heart all~a~flutter, nerves jangling.
The telephone rings, bated breath,
Dry-mouth, such clammy hands,
A faint cracked whisper, ‘Hello?’
Only to be, just someone else.
The anticipation now running riot,
Unknowns spinning beyond control,
Imagination hot and fevered,
Created scenarios rise and fall,
Rise again, twist into, ‘what if?’
Before dissipating into hazy dreams.
And we know, yes, deep inside,
Once beyond the very early stages,
The truth is clear, should have seen,
Resistance is, quite useless, when,
Trying not to fall in love,
I remember now.
Inspired by reading certain poems of others.
An unexpected caller came
in the middle of the night.
Had me traipsing downstairs,
guided by candlelight.
(I’d suffered a power cut
sometime earlier in the day,
A temporary arrangement
until I arranged to pay.)
“Who is it?” I calmly asked,
trembling behind the door,
Cold striking up my legs
from the clay-tiled floor.
“Who is it?” I asked again
with cautious trepidation,
Fighting back the fear of
an unwanted confrontation.
No one answered back,
not one single, solitary, peep,
from the unexpected caller
who’d ruined my beauty sleep.
The letterbox then rattled again
giving me something of a start!
Jumping flame-lit shadows
jumping in my fluttering heart.
The identity of the caller rolled
around my searching brain.
The ghostly rattling letterbox
then startled me again!
Carefully, I opened the door
with safety chain in place.
Prepared to slam it shut again
you know, just in case.
What greeted me was not
something that needed sorting.
Just my amorous cat, returning
from a nights, hectic courting.
(Lucky thing.)

©Paul M Chafer 2015
Written for Radio Sheffield and broadcast on the Rony Robinson show.
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