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 Mar 2016 Paul M Chafer
Rapunzoll
Sunday morning,
the air froze, the dahlias
once bloomed angry,
now they shiver and sigh.

Autumn breeze, faint but still,
the padded ghost-steps
of your laugh, running wild,
like vintage photographs;
scattered Polaroids of
my memory - a smile here,
a grimace there.

How the heat of
emotions buries itself
in the clothes of yesterday,
How difficult it is to
fetch from the seams.
The needles only *****
at a faint feeling.

I wonder; do you forget me
as winter forgets the living?

Because once an old man
told me I had sad eyes

Sunsets melt to chalky lines,
like cigarette stubs, they died
when you met her.

These days only my fingers
remember summer,
I touch the hearts of others
to warm them too.

My voice wind chimes,
the eulogy of the storm,
when I breath your
name I shudder...

And listen-
because I am in
the echoes
of her, of us.
© copyright
 Mar 2016 Paul M Chafer
Rapunzoll
There are fewer things
beautiful than ugly,
I know that stars are most
bright when they fall
from impassioned skies,
That when your skin
meets mine, I am like an
amnesiac being returned
a lifetime of memories.

I hate few things,
except, perhaps, the murky
lakes of your eyes,
The misty beaches we
explored until sunrise.
How you pressed your lips
to mine like a death wish,
that it was deplorable,
but we wanted more, more.

My body was a map
you tore apart when you
got tired of exploring it.
The ancient psalms of our
tongues cannot silence.
Ruins of ancient Rome
survive on your lips, yet
you still live, breathe.
You call yourself mortal.
© copyright
 Mar 2016 Paul M Chafer
Rapunzoll
She was nature, beautiful
But deadly, her cheeks as
Scornful as a rose, the smile hid
The thorns underneath.

Her presence though unseen,
Could be felt, like the sun's warm
Breath on bare winter skin.

She led him somewhere secret
As the night lures the stars,
As clouds gorge on the
Fragile light of the moon.

Over the crumbled bodies
Of leaves, into the alien
Land of tranquility.

When he woke, hands burning,
There was nothing left to see.
Only a faint feeling glistening
In the air, a failing heart and
A tongue full of dreams.
© copyright
 Mar 2016 Paul M Chafer
Lawan
Silent
 Mar 2016 Paul M Chafer
Lawan
Because there is nothing
worth the saying


talk-- talk


nearly everyone that talks--


Talks. About. Nothing
"why are you always quiet?"
"Because I have nothing to say. Don't take it the wrong way, I am being sincere."
 Mar 2016 Paul M Chafer
Sjr1000
It's
one more cast
one more line
one more level
one more time

I promise

One more time

No more parking lot walks
No more broke night talks
No more looking into mirrors
saying
"What the ****?"

No more
after burners
the price to pay
sixteen  eighteen
hours
years
later
every day


Still saying

One more time

I promise

One more  time
I cannot fly
I cannot soar
But across the concrete caves
I can roar
Through the oceans
I cannot glide
Trapped on land
I can cross the divide
As a tree I'll not grow
Impervious to time and its pain
But I can lay the roots
To keep me from the insane
Like the wind that whips
A formidable force
The sun and rain
Who follow their own course
I try to be
Like them free
But I cannot fly
I cannot soar
If only for myself though
I can be so much more
 Mar 2016 Paul M Chafer
ryn
Is there love for another?
Much like this?
One's that unconditional,
unrestricted.
One so free...
That skeptical eyes would miss.

The beauty in such a commitment,
can't be quantified in greens or gold.
Unbound by petty materialism...
That jingles and folds.

It's invaluable...
Only to the ones who would see
and acknowledge it.
It's coveted only by those
who fearlessly dare
to embrace it.

So...

Strive for unconditional love.
For it is the greatest gift,
anyone could receive
and bestow.
For it will be the sun
that fires
the beats in your heart.
For it is the abundant glow
cascading...
From the moon's
limitless flow.
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