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 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
Sjr1000
The glory of nature
in all of its transformations
the dawning of consciousness
the surrender of love
the struggle for survival
the dance between
the  light and darkness

The meteor shower
the child's first step
the child's first smile
the cocoon unspun
the spider's daily web
the many mornings
come and gone

This observer of
what is and what is not
consumed with awe

Melting solids
to dust
liquid to vapors
riding life's lightening
thunder's laughter

From oppression to freedom
From slumber to wisdom

The glory of all nature
instantaneous and gone
the ink on the page
the sun gone nova
the event horizon
random particles
converge into being
dissipate and defuse
from movement to entropy
ashes to ashes
stardust to stardust

The poet ever singing
the glory of transformations.
 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
SE Reimer
~

“i’m loosing my before,”
she says as she peers
o’er her morning cup,
she struggles to recall,
to separate before and aft,
it's a place where blurring lines,
become blurred memories.
where BC and AD intersect;
that place within her mind,
where she drew a line
’cross sands of time,
’til the winds of living
blew her line away.
of life before this Cancer,
living before this Cost;
of silence 'fore the Call,
that told her all was lost.
his voice no longer lingers,
in her dreams he used to come;
now he's just a vapor,
but a ghost of what he was.
for now it's only after
Dreariness, Decay and Death;
now it’s sleepless nights,
while in picture books he rests.
his footsteps all but gone,
and only cards and photographs
to remind of seasons once upon,
a time of laughter and rejoicing,
replaced by cup of bitter tears.
the after-date of endings,
of after-hearts were pierced;
after-leaves have all decayed,
the after-disappearance,
of joy that he defined.
these the after-leavings,
the dregs from life distilled;
left to wonder, life to ponder,
the “why” a heart stood still.
of a BC and an AD,
a BC time, Before the Call;
when life was torn in two,
leaving shredded remnants;
and now the AD, After Daniel,
a time to pick up tattered pieces,
to find the peace in what remains;
this the place where legends born,
when all that’s left is but a name.

~

*post script.

there are few events in one’s lifetime that mark time, a before and after, like loss.  whether death, divorce, or deep disappointment... each a BC/AD moment that our human condition can so easily let define what remains; our after.  yet too, if we do not rush it, there can come a time when we are able to redefine our losses into legend... an AD that is an after-definition of sorts; where a crown of beauty replaces ashes and the oil of joy is exchanged for the bitter wine of mourning.  (Isaiah 61:3)    

to my sweet wife and to each of you, my friends who grieve, whatever your “AD”, know this... while the heart beats, there is yet hope!  hugs, hope and health to each, to all!!
your poet friend and lover of your posts,
(: Steve
 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
Koggeki
Fiery
Furies,
Lapping
At the base
Of the door.

Whisper
Cloyingly sweet,
"Let me in..."

OH!!
If only
To rapture.
 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
mikecccc
I doubt
material wealth
means anything
in the afterlife
on the off chance
that I'm wrong
bury me
with my books
and my plastic owl.
Didn't expect to find
One of mine as the daily
Thank you
for the hearts and views.
Tickle me
Into subconscious frenzy
Then glide along my
Charged surface
Where I'll guide your way
Along each changing tide
Which becomes me
 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
Pax
i didn't know i wasn't enough for you
i tried my best to filled the spaces between us
worked hard to keep something alive
yet i wasn't enough to make your bed happy
and my spark was never enough for you to stay
grounded, even our seedling was taken for-granted.

i should fight, and work hard
to keep the walls from crumbling apart.
though i exhaust all my energy
still it wasn't enough
because despite all
you've lost your
love
for
me
.

i was move by a tv series about an affair of his wife. i knew i need to write something so this feeling would go away... oh, i didn't know when your so attach to a character in a film/tv you'll feel all the emotions and make you go weak... oh, well decided to share this.. thanks for reading.
 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
Pax
opacity
 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
Pax
upon seeing the lining of the
sky, lies the dwindle
crimson sign...

i asked why such beauty
twinkles in blood.
sometimes in the early dawn, the sky, in my eyes
seems blood orange. sometimes in my perception
lies a deep meaning.
 Nov 2016 Paul M Chafer
Fay Slimm
It is when love makes us sing
smile and dance that it
is beautiful.

No chance is missed of seeing
life's canvas shaded
by love's hues.

Angelic creativity will lead
love's seasons toward
spiritual dues.

With this can love concede
when it stays within
medium used.

Love, if content, will recede
never because it lets
beauty enfuse.

It knows, when un-needy
that love understands
love's rules.
Don’t come to the cemetery at night Peter Xalxo would say
If you are so inclined make your visits in the day
For often in the evening when exam worries were gone
I would go to the cemetery and sit on some tombstone.

I think boy the ones from the other world make visits at nights
And they would not love to find living souls upon their sights
Why intrude their peaceful home and not leave them there alone
When the time after the sunset they think to exclusively own!


Having said this with a grave face he would lower his voice still low
While on nightly posts at the graves I’ve seen in the dark some glow
And at moonlit nights on duty’s round heard footsteps around me
I would advise boy not to step into at night at the cemetery.


He used to tell more such tales to instill in the boy some fear
But come the next evening and at the cemetery I would reappear
For I loved the moon bathed solitude the trees’ darkened shed
The tranquility of the place in quiet company of the dead!

All said I wouldn’t leave out in this account one truthful fact
Uncle Peter’s stories had some effect some impact
They colored my times at the cemetery spent at nights alone
I seemed to feel they were moving the graves’ marble stone.

Then one night as I was coming out around nine o’clock
To my horror found the gate closed with an iron lock
Bewildered I stood there knowing no other ways to go
When there appeared a shadow heard the voice of Peter Xalxo.

I told you boy not to loiter here not disturb their peace of night
This ground here the dead walks now though beyond your sight
Run home and never come back
his voice in whisper talked
Some more words he mumbled before got the gate unlocked.

That night at the dinner table my father told mom this
He was such a good man and a great friend to miss
But God only decides in his garden which flower to pluck
Peter Xalxo died this evening suffered a heart attack.
A repost on Halloween.
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