By the shores of the Dry-sea.
Beyond salt-crusted sands,
In deep, deep, caves,
You will find dragons.
Long ago, in ages past,
Men and women were selected,
An honour to ride these great beasts.
Winged creatures of giant stature,
Sharp of tooth and talon.
Then foolishly, the dragon-riders fought.
The battles, ****** and deadly,
Swooped across scorched skies.
Then the dragons took their leave,
And burrowed deep into the earth,
Where they slept away the centuries.
Occasionally one would surface,
In a lake, a fjord or a loch,
Emerging by secret ways,
To see if mankind still made war.
Until at last, mankind has long gone.
The Earth is dry: blisteringly hot.
Perfect for dragons to bask,
Upon the salt-crusted sands,
By the shores of the Dry-sea.

© Paul Chafer 2014

We build the best prisons for ourselves,
Knowing the truth, is a form of escape,
Until we see, our incarceration changed,
Still, knowing is the universal key,
The sure way to unlocking those doors.

We need to scale the walls of emotion,
Tunnel through our lack of self-belief,
Ignore mocking ignorance of others,
Who would trap us behind bars,
Willingly dump on us, on realising,
Our future looks better than theirs,
So sad, our persecutors, so very sad.

Remember, you can break out, yes,
Taste freedom, if you only try, yes,
Just be the best you can be, and rise,
Soar, be alive, and never, ever forget,
We build the best prisons for ourselves.

Tonight, thinking on you,
My mind is ablaze, fully illuminated,
Akin to a fabled city swinging in festival,
You light me up inside, and I glow brightly,
Bathed within the warmth of your sweet love.

Tonight, thinking on you,
My heart is dancing the greatest dance,
Revelling, an unbridled pleasurable release,
Passionate love flowing freely in our kisses,
Smooching, swaying, in each other's embrace.

Tonight, thinking on you,
Our spirits are riding upon crazy horses,
Galloping over moonlit plains, racing the stars,
Our nakedness glistening with heady scents,
Mind, hearts and spirits, subtly joined as one.

Tonight, thinking on you.

Where are you, perfect piece of writing?
I read of you when I was a boy, long ago,
Naked youngsters on horseback, waiting,
Hidden in shadows at the meadow’s edge,
Then they go, aware of danger, scared,
Moonlight dancing upon their skin, cool,
Nightjars and bats swoop low, hunting moths,
And the youngsters ride, he observing her,
So beautiful to describe, and yet, you are gone,
Long ago, lost in my mind, yet I remember,
And I wonder, what you are, if you are,
And will I ever read you again, savour you?
Where are you, perfect piece of writing?

©Paul M Chafer 2016

Prophecies of the Ancient’s decree,
Dark Pariah shall face the dragon,
In the Universal arena, heart’s quail,
Worlds tremble as giant forces clash.

Cloying Darkness is stirring, awakening,
Shadows shifting within Darker shadows,
Snake-like tendrils slithering, pulsing,
A menace daring to reveal true purpose.

Brandishers of Light must stand and fight,
Resisting all temptation of offered power,
Battling against foul corruption: death,
Halting the slide into dank, filthy, pits.

Monsters stalking the innocent; feeding,
Drenched in blood of pain and suffering,
Spawn of Dreadnoughts bring carnage,
Will any stand against the slaughter?

The fabled sword twisted in torment,
Calling, calling; seeking a champion,
Searching out those who would dare,
Questing for the brave of the Light.

Light heeds the need, offers strength,
Dragon heart’s beat, Champions arise,
Drums of war, thunderous, deafening,
As the Clysm screams to be birthed.

©Paul M Chafer 2014

I hammered my self-loathing,
Gouged out its laughing eyes,
Ripped open its smirking mouth,
Then strangled it, stomped it,
Buried it, forgot it; moved on.

The poetry, though, hmm,
It helped me fight, win,
A soundboard of pain,
Reliable and true, so true,
Always remains, waiting patiently.

Keeping my attitude healthy,
Is it needed? Yes, it is,
Riding undulating emotion,
Self-loathing rises, unbidden,
Caressing fondly: a soft kiss.

I body-slam self-loathing,
Hurl it back to the pit,
Peer out of the abyss,
****** at any light, any hope,
Grasping words, fighting.

Love is always needed,
A powerful weapon, hmm,
Without it, well, zombies come,
Tearing within, mocking,
Urging the thin-red-line.

I will not yield, I scream,
I write, even weep, and more,
Knowing love will come, soon,
And will help me claim,
I hammered my self-loathing.

© Paul Chafer 2014

In the summer of my life,
When I swore, promised, even,
If only to my sad-broken-self,
Nurturing a heart beyond repair,
I would never venture abroad,
Never again sail from safe shores,
I awake, open my eyes, smile,
I am in love, and I’m not afraid.

Beyond anything previously known,
A new experience, fresh, bright,
A meeting of not only hearts,
But emotionally bonded, strong,
Immeasurable depths, mind, spirit,
Two coalesced as one, bliss,
Forging a blended alloy of love,
In the summer of my life.

©Paul Chafer 2014

As I wander down, twisting paths,
Low leaden skies, threatening rain,
Leaves drift down like confetti,
As winter awakens, once again.

Trees, their branches almost bare,
Rake and claw, at a heavy sky,
Thrashing impotently to be free,
As searching winds, rustle on by.

Bracken, faded yellow and brown,
So cloying with the scent of death,
A decaying, withering, tangled mass,
Autumn steals a last, silent breath.

Frost creeps in, coating the ground,
Painting trees and hedgerows white.
Woodland life, skulks and hides,
Avoiding the snap of winter’s bite.

Shortening days: lengthening nights,
Are forcing temperatures to fall,
A babbling brook becomes silenced,
The Ice-queen spreads her shawl.

Rain soon becomes transmogrified,
Within raging blizzards of snow,
Winter heralding an early arrival,
With a cool, breath-taking show.

Oh so cold, but I won’t complain,
For merciless winter simply laughs,
My breath pants in foggy plumes,
As I wander down, twisting paths.

Through time,
Stars continue to illuminate,
Billions of miles,
Long, long after death:
R.I.P Nelson Mandela.

Whatever are you doing to me?
Writer-woman, epitome of Venus,
Stoking embers of my Promethean fire,
Until the coals in my heart glow,
Waxing lyrical, making love flow.

The moon, seemingly caught in the trees,
Reveals tears rolling down my face,
Sitting here, a back-garden-king,
Alone and shivering in the cold,
Hugging the warmth inside, cuddling,
With just the dark of night for company,
Comforted, for I love you, it’s true,
And never deny it; you love me too.

Only, it’s all we have, please try and see,
Nothing else matters in our own  reality,
I nurse the ache, such pain, jeez,
Hear me Muse, just hear me, please,
Take all you can, I know it’s not much,
But I offer it to you, my digital feelings.

My words, sculpting a view of heaven,
Prose dancing amongst distant starlight,
Shining in your eyes: are they also tears?
Perhaps, observed by an impassive moon,
Now beyond the clutches of leafy limbs,
As you are beyond my embracing arms.

Edges of passing clouds, illuminated,
Are you glowing, my Muse, are you?
Do my lonely words of love stir you?
Stoke hidden smouldering passions?
Do you ever think, maybe wonder,
As we tap keys on the sub-ether,
Whatever are you doing to me?

©Paul Chafer 2014

Love is truly canny,
Rages like a storm,
Quiet as a millpond.
(On a still day, for sure)
Twisting and turning,
Tugging us here and there,
Turning us inside out,
Laying us low, flying high,
Departing, returning,
Cursing and praising.
The perfect love, hah!
Matter of perspective,
Where we are in life.
Love is linked with time,
Time is a fickle *****,
Turning on us unexpectedly,
Just as we have it all wired,
Running out on us,
Leaving in the blink of an eye.
(Why bother? Hmm, anyone?)
Well, we choose to bother,
Just because love is good,
For some it is all there is,
Why else are we here?
If you have love, so lucky,
Cherish, cuddle, hold,
Tomorrow is another day.

©Paul M Chafer 2015

They are a part of you, those scars,
No denying that, how can there be?
You are not alone though, never alone,
and there is no shame, not one iota.
Any who judge you, find you lacking,
Are not worthy of your time, nope!
They will never understand; never!
Not advocating the cutting, nah,
Just accepting it that it happens,
Just like it might rain tomorrow.
Accept yourself and learn, love,
Find ways to cope, to push through,
Know that you are all right, yes?
They are a part of you, those scars,
No denying that, how can there be?

©Paul M Chafer 2015

If, whenever out, maybe driving about,
On encountering road-rage, never worry,
Claim that you are, Ronnie Pickering,
They should drive off, as if in a hurry.

Although, if they ask, Ronnie Pickering?
Looking bewildered, unsure who you are,
Do a convincing, Pickering impression,
An apoplectic beetroot escaping its jar.

Start ranting and raving, making threats,
No need to reveal, considered, justification,
Rage like a gargantuan, ignorant, imbecile,
Before storming off, in bitter frustration.

Remember, while out, always take care,
If encountering, squabbling or bickering,
If the people resemble blustering bullies,
One, could possibly be, Ronnie Pickering.

Purring, the big cat, prowls though the city,
Her grace resonating in the words of youth,
The rhythm of life beating within her heart,
Pulsing in the melting ***, of cultural truth.

Unwholesome disenchantments; dispelled,
Crushing obsolete views of old generations,
One World, concepts, sweeping all before,
Welcoming the progress of mixed relations.

A Bohemian feline of change, so constant,
Wisdom, truth, acceptance, riot in her roars,
New wave embracing, all colours, all creeds,
Bigoted ignorance fearing sharpened claws.

The multi-faceted face, of free London now,
Don’t hate those who sneer, offer them pity,
Their time disperses on Thames ebbing tide,
Purring, the big cat, prowls through the city.

©Paul M Chafer 2016

I feel the essence of you, and I ache inside,
As you infiltrate my being to the very core,
There is no place for me, unwilling to hide,
Forgive me; I’m unable, to suffer anymore.
Our palpable charisma echoes, who we are,
Shaping us incrementally, acquiring a hold,
We cannot turn back, we’ve come too far,
Our friendship has allowed, love to unfold.
Stranded at crossroads, unable to proceed,
Am I just a dreamer, and you just a dream?
Accepting choices, until I started to bleed,
Fond memories weep, drifting downstream.
So what now, precious love, what do I do?
I’m alone, oh but I feel, the essence of you.

©Paul M Chafer 2016

Sauntering casually,
jostled by shoppers,
teatime bargain hunters;
curses of common folk
ringing in my ears,
out of tune with
the cries of the traders.
Two for one here!
I say, two for one here!

Embattled in the
throng of a slow
moving crowd, shoulders
heaving, swaying to an
inaudible beat.  Tired
faces marking time,
quelling inner frustration.
Get a move on!
Please, just get a move on.

Now it’s raining,
incessant needles
prickle my face.
Suspended water droplets
dangle from striped
awnings, reflecting
trapped, busy, images.
Caught in a moment.
Spattered, in a moment.

Then I see her,
the fruit-stall girl,
her words and gestures
touch me like music
rippling over my skin.
Secret caressing fingers,
bringing me to life.
She doesn’t see me.
No: she doesn’t ever see me.

I’m almost mesmerised,
by the light catching
the white curve of
her neck.  Her hair,
like spun gold, dancing
on her ruffled collar as
she serves with a smile.
Your change sir.
Don’t forget your change sir!

I turned for home,
head bowed, shoulders
stooped; no crowded bus
for me with standing
room only.  A slow
solitary walk, past
dark, dripping gardens.
Her face for company, how
strange: her face, for company.

© Paul Chafer 2014

Blithe Spirit,
I sense you.
Your gentle form
Caressing my mind,
Touching my heart.
I stir in my dreams,
Yearning to break free
From restricting earthly shackles:
To be with you.

Blithe spirit,
I know you.
Your tenderness
Reaching out, a
Rush of spiritual energy.
I drift, languidly,
Into your ethereal world
Where cool blue peace
Soothes away, all distress.

Blithe spirit
I feel you.
Your being coalescing
With my inner-self,
Infiltrating my very soul.
You take me beyond mortality,
Beyond explanation,
Where Earthly desires
Simply, cease to exist.

Blithe spirit,
I accept you.
Though your
Very presence defies
Reason and understanding.
You infuse me with
The gift of celestial knowledge
And I know, my destiny is:
To be with you.

© Paul Chafer 2014

You cried, when I read you poetry,
Soft sounds of weeping down the telephone,
It was not sad though, no, never that,
A kind of, unexpected happiness had blossomed,
Filling your mind with fragrant words, this is why,
You cried, when I read you poetry.

©Paul M Chafer 2015

During dark hours,
Turning in sleep, restless,
Edging from a dream, so soft,
Cosseted, warm, gentle, loving,
Till the memory spike ravages, savages,
Piercing deep, deep down, grimacing,
It hurts; crushing tears, salty, warm, stillborn.

During dark hours,
Absolving her of blame,
Shedding the need to punish,
Unwilling to chastise my darling,
Far easier than forgiving oneself,
And yet; I struggle, so difficult,
Because of Love? Yes, yes of course.

During dark hours,
She sleeps; peaceful soft snores,
Unaware how, forgiving her,
Forces, unbidden, an angry sadness,
My word is true, honourable, my bond,
No regrets, revenge unthinkable;
Still; I’m good at fooling myself.

During dark hours,
She slashes my thoughts,
Undignified imagery, thousand fold torment,
I do forgive; I have; just punishing myself,
What is forgiveness anyway?
Death, springs readily to mind,
We all forgive then; at last.

© Paul Chafer 2014

Whenever thinking on you, it is fair to say,
Daydreams race, they pulse, and they thrive,
For I am thinking on you, every single day,
My soul singing, soaring, feeling truly alive.
Sometimes, I visualise us hugging; kissing,
Rocking you in my arms, holding you tight,
I shed no tears for the things I am missing,
Comforted by cuddles, deep into the night.
Imagining you, gives me enormous pleasure,
Sensing how love has flourished, and grown,
You might always be, unobtainable treasure,
My constant companion, I am never alone.
Sweet dreams my Muse, love endures, tis true,
I have hope, within hope, I always have you.

Copyright with Paul M Chafer

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.

So, please do remember me,
The man who I used to be,
Then heed, if you can heed,
The stranger I have become,
Stepping through open doors,
Finding I must fight everyday,
My mettle twisted a thousand-fold,
From smashing ancient barriers,
Questing a seemingly impossible truth,
Discovering such knowledge,
Conquering all gods, slaying lies,
Exposing ideals that will never be,
Superstition broken, setting me free.

Examine beliefs, looking deep,
Never accept comforting blind faith,
Wrestle with the thorny id,
Finding life’s hidden meaning,
Different for each individual,
The simple truth, enlightened paths,
Illuminating the feared abyss,
Ravaged by ghosts of madness,
Inquire within, trusting yourself,
Revealing improbable answers,
Choosing purpose, as I chose,
Content beyond the echoes of,
The man who I used to be,
So, please, do remember me.

© Paul Chafer 2014

I just don’t understand,
How can a man live among us?
At work, play, passing the time of day.
Normal.
Normal.
Normal – tinker.
– ****** a child, abuse, ****** –
Normal.
Normal.
Normal – tailor.
So, there are monsters: truly!
Vile depraved horrors masquerading as people.
At work, play, passing the time of day.
Normal.
Normal.
Normal – soldier.
– *****, evil, scumbag –
Twisted.
Twisted.
Twisted – killer.
Take care, always be aware.
An unassuming face, in or out of place.
I just don’t understand, cannot understand.
Tinker.
Tailor.
Soldier – Murderer!

© Paul Chafer 2014

Are we to blame for what we do?
Can we help what we do? Can we?
Maybe, maybe not, we would suffer,
Oh yes, you think you miss me now?
You never know love, not really,
Until it is removed, forbidden,
Taken away far beyond reach,
Only then do you see, finally see,
Once you have lost that which you had,
Or even imagine you have lost it,
Only then do you understand,
How much you cared, cherished,
Adored, depended upon, needed,
That illicit love, that yearned for love,
The kind of love that is so rare,
It comes only once in a lifetime,
If one is lucky, very lucky,
So, even though, we do what we do,
Have changed who we are, irrevocably,
I doubt we will ever stop, not ever,
And there is no blame to apportion,
No disgust, no reprehensible behaviour,
There is just us, us, and how we feel,
Are we to blame for what we do?

©Paul M Chafer 2016

Oh, they don’t know they’re born today,
What do they know of surviving a war?
Suffering blackouts, hardship of rationing,
With never a thought of ‘asking for more’.

They act so tough, never knowing real fear,
Never experiencing terror and dread,
They’d be dancing to a different tune,
If the Luftwaffe still flew overhead.

I tell you, kids of today; know now’t,
Claiming life’s hard: they’re having a laugh,
Let em’ clean grime off a twelve hour shift,
With carbolic soap in an old tin bath?

Talk of going without, they get too much!
We only had skipping ropes, whistles, bells,
Maybe an orange and apple at Christmas,
Along with monkey nuts still in their shells.

If we were lucky, we got a shiny penny,
Truth be told, there was never any shame,
Today they expect brand new bikes,
Plus the latest craze of a video game.

A sign of the times, life always changes,
Rose-tinted memories; forever make hay,
I’ve said it before; I know I’ll say it again,
Oh, they don’t know they’re born today.

© Paul Chafer 2014

Snatching at the words,
Mumbling incoherently,
Such things, such imagery,
Haunting me, taunting me,
Fighting on the cusp of sleep,
Denying me semblance of reason,
For these words I want, no, need,
Their beauty, strings of literary pearls,
Flow sinuously through my mind,
Then begin to dissipate, please no,
Cunningly vanishing at equal speed,
With which I try to recall them,
Smoke thinning, drifting on the wind,
Mocking me as I rouse, knowing,
Deep inside, how good the words felt,
What they would mean, such wonder,
Now gone, but perhaps, perhaps,
They were never as good as I thought,
Maybe such things never are, maybe,
Maybe the real beauty is hidden pleasure,
A delight in the process itself, hmm,
The imagining, I - no, we, for I mean, us poets -
Love that creative part; want to hold it forever,
That heady feeling, that Promethean power,
How we cherish this treasure, and share it,
Sharing is the best, hmm, and the keeping,
Yes, never neglect the keeping, coveting,
The unmatched sense of achievement,
Something known only to poets,
Alas, those forgotten words,
Edging the cusp of sleep, perhaps,
Well, they do not travel so well, still,
We console ourselves with knowing,
Knowing they were there, truly existing,
Trying to escape on a whimsical notion,
When in reality, if we are patient,
They do come home, words to roost,
Appearing, here, there, everywhere,
In various forms, so all is not lost, still,
On the edge of dreams, we fail to avoid,
Snatching at the words.

© Paul Chafer 2014

I did not want to know him:
Mr Bone-twist.
I feared him, feared his fire, his pain,
Sadly he became my acquaintance.
My health cracking beneath the strain.

It was difficult to accept him:
Mr Bone-twist.
He hurts me, hurts my legs, my pride,
A specialized, sensitive, suffering,
That penetrates, deep down inside.

I must resist and fight him:
Mr Bone-twist.
Preparing, feeling strong, keeping going,
A war of weary, mind-numbing attrition,
Unceasing, unfaltering, never slowing.

He is trying to steal my life:
Mr Bone-twist.
But I am determined to stop this thief,
My weapons of courage, faith, self-esteem,
Buttressed by strength of true self-belief.

I know he’ll fight to the end:
Mr Bone-twist.
With savagery he’ll hack and he’ll hack,
I’ll never yield beneath his punishment,
Instead I’ll rise and fight him right back!

On crutches I walk over him:
Mr Bone-twist.
My family’s love, now urging me on,
Closely allied with doctors and nurses,
My battle turns and is there to be won.

© Paul Chafer 2014

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.

Looking back, through the window of time,
Playground skipping ropes turning in rhyme.
Counted verse and a strange childish chant,
Disguised lilt of an ancient, grown up rant.

Posies left by the river, ashes of the dead.
An axe-man waiting to chop off your head.

Wheeled ice-cream carts selling real ice-cream,
Penny sugar barley twists, sweeter than a dream,
Never-ending Saturdays playing in the sun,
Kick the can, if you can, and run rabbit run.

Posies left by the river, ashes of the dead.

Hazy days, crazy days, reliving the lost ways,
Childhood adventures, forgotten one-act plays.
I brush away the cobwebs, wipe away the grime,
Reliving blue skies through my window of time.

An axe-man waiting to chop off your head.

© Paul Chafer 2014

Walking along this path, all alone,
Beneath the shadows of tall trees,
Her sweet face lingers in my mind,
Her name whispers on the breeze.

She awaits me, by the old pond,
Where we spent many, happy hours,
Basking in early morning sunshine,
Amidst, a few, late summer flowers.

Without any greeting, I simply sit,
We exchange a glance, nothing more,
My tears speak a thousand words,
For that, which has gone before.

She suddenly vanishes, and I accept,
The time has come to let her go,
I love her, and yes, I do miss her,
In truth, I needed to let her know.

It is a year, since I lost my Jess,
But seeing her, my pain is eased,
I am replacing her with a puppy,
I imagine, she’ll be well pleased.

Jess was such a good dog: faithful,
One of the best that I have known,
But tomorrow, I will no longer be,
Walking along this path, all alone.

All moments last forever,
trapped in time, yes,
like pages on a book,
but there, all the same,
reaching out from the past,
indelible memories, forever.

There are dreams,
then there are dreams,
some dreams, like kisses,
have portent, subtle magic,
while some dreams, and kisses,
are just dreams and kisses.

Moments, like kisses,
are trapped in memories,
magical dreams, reaching,
making the day smile,
reminding those who love,
all moments last forever.

©Paul M Chafer 2014

Graveyards bother me,
All those lives, silenced,
All that time, the memories,
(We were loved too once, you know,
we enjoyed life, see you soon!)
This aspect runs cold in my blood,
I can almost hear them chuckling,
He knows, Paul knows, (hello!)
Sure, their voices are in my head,
Their whispers, ancient stirrings,
Laughter from ages gone, dead,
Yet they call to me, taunt me,
Dead flesh and bones haunt me.
A full life, reduced to a dash.
I know I'm not ready, not yet,
Too much to do, to write, to share,
I shudder, walk away, dry mouthed,
No life without death, none,
Graveyards bother me.

© Paul Chafer 2014

I fear the warrior has fallen asleep,
Lulled into chains in the Demon’s keep.
Forgotten prisoner of noble mind,
Honour and justice abused and blind.
And the Race continues in a headlong rush,
Repeated warnings of disaster, all hush, hush.
Wanton greed leaving resources depleted,
Bold voices of reason ignored and defeated.
The world’s inhabitants playthings of destruction,
Mankind’s demise profitably under construction.
What then; the high price of material wealth,
Wallowing deep in the red with nature herself.
The unforgiving Earth spins our lives into death,
Climatic chaos drawing our last dying breath.
Eons of achievements now just whimsical schemes,
As our entire existence floats away with our dreams.

©Paul M Chafer 2014

Fight, always fight, always,
One must never yield, not ever,
For I have kissed death, yes,
Lift the veil, the hidden truth,
He is not welcoming, he lies,
He is rotten, corrupt and stinking.
I have felt that cold embrace,
I shuddered, choked, rejected,
Came screaming from its pull,
Denied the dark allure, so cold,
And reared to confront my end,
I fought back, struggled, kicked,
Punched, bit, clawed, wrestled,
Until I was free, heated breath,
And now I know, understand,
We must always fight, always.

Inspired by a writer on HP.

©Paul M Chafer 2016

My love and I, shared the summer last year,
While Dragonflies stitched until the close of day,
I see her now, the fond memories so dear.

We both loved a lifetime without any fear,
From fragrant meadows our cares floated away,
My love and I, shared the summer last year.

Her pleasant laughter, I can still hear,
Threading the air with the scent of fresh hay,
I see her now, the fond memories so dear.

Why we drifted apart still remains unclear,
Did passion die when blue skies turned grey?
My love and I, shared the summer last year.

I embraced her soul, held it so near,
But already I sensed her slipping away,
I see her now, the fond memories so dear.

In stoic silence, I shed a single tear,
Resolved to keeping my sadness at bay,
My love and I, shared the summer last year,
I see her now, the fond memories so dear.

©Paul Chafer 2014

Cruel nuances of misplaced futures,
Arc far beyond time’s twisting fabric,
Spiralling across splitting ends of reality,
Teasing the churning moments that are now.
What will be, will be, shadows within shadows,
Shimmering, through subtle shades of life.
Shifting, fading before finally blossoming.
Then it burns, shakes with unleashed rage;
Whilst on a whim, sharing of a gentle smile,
Glance of a stranger, an inappropriate kiss,
Promises in dreams of unchained desires,
Ride free on dark horses, wind in their hair.
Bodies limned beneath a harvest moon,
Nakedness admired by breathless lust,
Sated innocence writhes, dances as one,
A pleasurable alloy of heart and soul,
Blended within imagination’s crucible,
Cruel nuances of misplaced futures.

© Paul M Chafer 2014

Love addicts,
High from a single touch,
Trembling from a single kiss,
Sighing for what might be
Could be, and should be,
Hooked into our own groove,
For I am your drug,
And you, sweet woman,
You are totally mine,
As we lust for a fix,
Lost within a vertiginous miasma,
Reeling from a passion that sates,
So blissfully satisfying, and yet,
Also leaves us wanting more,
So much more that we ache,
Cast adrift upon an ocean,
One previously unknown,
The swells heaving,
The currents swirling,
Tides of wanton desire,
Surf crashing over us poor,
Love addicts.

©Paul M Chafer 2017

Wandering aimlessly,
Through life, hurt, because,
I had loved and yes, lost,
Accepting my lot with dignity,
No shame for me, none.

When Death called, I smiled,
Ignoring his cursory glance,
No thin red line for me, pal,
No ‘final-flower’ blossoming,
Pooling around in warm water.

Broken, hmm, perhaps,
Heart forever scarred, yes,
But I know inside, deep inside,
My resilience is fortified,
I will never yield, not ever.

On the very edge of my desert,
I fleetingly admire a single rose,
A lonely brave flower, neglected and alone,
In need of nourishment, but like me,
Just like me, strong with self-preservation.

I reach, connect, touch, feeling,
Becoming instantly touched in return,
Cherishing the vibrancy of soft petals,
Inhaling intoxicating subtle scents,
Knowing I’ve found, a true friend.

I return again and again,
Savouring this rare bloom,
Sharing all I am, all I can be,
Loving my, Desert Rose,
I have come home, yes,
I won’t cry, bah, no,
I’m no longer drifting,
Wandering aimlessly.

©Paul Chafer 2014

Be brave,
You have no choice;
When trying to change the world.
People cannot, or simply refuse to see,
New ways forward, promoting harmony.

Inevitably, others will always ridicule,
Their ignorance blocking your path,
So solidly entrenched, unchangeable,
Pouring scorn over radical ideas.

Beneath their mockery, they sense,
The Border fences are breaking,
Chains of Religion are snapping,
Unshackling, Political manacles.

Revolutionary meeting of minds,
Sowing seeds of the unknown,
Voices unleashing subtle energies,
Diminishing established power.

Reveal to those, now choosing to see,
New ways forward, promoting harmony.
When trying to change the world.
You have no choice:
Be brave.

Black-spiced-***,
I lust after the bite,
Cherish the lip-tingle,
Saturate my whole mouth,
Until my cheeks, my gums sing,
Teeth feeling individual, so pleasant,
And my tongue pulses with pleasure,
Dancing as if a living thing - which it is.
Until lastly, the numbness settles,
A satisfying quivering of senses,
Intoxicating me fully, before swallowing,
Then the music beats through my buds,
A heavy lulling, taking me down,
Floating beneath waves of headiness,
Sleep encroaching, waiting,
Before dreams escape, teasing,
Drifting unhurried through eternity,
Swirling within deep desire,
Black-spiced-***.

©Paul Chafer 2014

Nine months of living as one.
A small life, pure and innocent.
An unblemished soul, now gone forever.

Wisdom fails me, my emotions trip
Into overdrive, shattering resistance, my
Strength leaking away through telltale tears.

I want to lay blame, but deep within,
I know there is no blame, no reason,
Not even justice: only cold, cruel, death.

I observed my wife: mind traumatised,
As she dressed our small lifeless child,
Our first precious child: stillborn, still warm.

I watched her lips whispering private
Inner thoughts, murmuring her love
As her hands caressed so gently: so gently.

Nine months of living as one.
A family created, but for our new arrival,
There is no welcome: just sad, goodbyes.

© Paul Chafer 2014

We set off nice and slow, I was nervous, uncertain.
Don’t get me wrong, I knew what I was doing,
I had ridden before, but nothing like this.

She was so beautiful, the best I’d ever had,
Trembling beneath me I knew she could move.
She responded delightfully to my delicate touch.

With accomplished skill I flicked HER gears,
Feeling her pull a little as we truly got underway.

Negotiating the first deceptive bend,
She gave a little shimmy, a sensitive wiggle,
Forcing a tightening from me, till I gathered her up.

Assuredly taking full control once more.
Hands gripping her firmly, slowly twisting the throttle.
She bucks; growls pleasurably, we are as one.
Revelling in wilful abandonment;
Gliding in unison, so enjoyable.

Cornering sweetly, high exhilaration,
missing NOT a single beat,
Accelerating at speeds-illegal,
Too soon, too soon,
Our destination arrives.

Catching my breath I tease the brakes and relax.
Tension flowing from me; while she: she purrs like a wild cat.
I know we made good time as I gently apply the clutch,
Easing her down through the gears, she gives a little SHuDDER.

I dismount, sighing, smiling, a playful slap, yes,
Acknowledging mutual appreciation,
Already anticipating another ride,
And believe me,

It was a ride.

©Paul Chafer 2014

Am I not the man you dreamt about
All those many years ago?
Am I not the man whom you once loved
Who gave your life its glow?
Have I failed in your expectations
In living up to your ideal?
Do you harbour unfulfilled imaginings
Of the way you ought to feel?
Do I not still hold your love so dearly
Unquestioning and with pride?
Do I not bury your obvious disappointment
With my feelings deep inside?
And still my love is not enough for you
Do I sense hatred in disguise?
While your longing for the man I’m not
Is clearly visible in your eyes?
And do I not still offer you fond affection
Even though your heart is cruel?
Lying unloved in this cold empty bed;
I realise love is a hopeless fool.

©Paul M Chafer 2014

I glimpse her, as wearily,
I tread upon the stair;
Brief flickering movement
Which really isn’t there.
She taunts, and teases,
Never showing her face,
Drifting along the landing,
With ballerina grace.
Quite often, whenever lonely,
Her sibilant voice calls;
A lingering shallow whisper,
Echoing softly from the walls.
She sounds, so haunting,
Like tinkling silver bells;
Ringing enticing incantations;
While casting ghostly spells.
Hairs bristle, on my neck;
Spine becoming trembling ice,
Freezing breath inside my throat:
Heart trapped within a vice.
We touch, I am afraid; but
My fear is that I’ll find,
This unearthly spectral visitor
Is an unkindness of my mind.


© Paul Chafer 2014

Was life truly; ever so sweet,
As in the sun-worshipped, One World,
Beneath feathery banners, all unfurled,
Celebrated rhythm of the Mexica beat,
Applauding the gods with dancing feet,
While eagerly anticipating the final breath,
Of the honoured warrior’s, flowery death.

Lost ancient world, carved in stone,
Temples and plaza’s of grandiose plan,
Before the great pyramid of Tenochtitlan,
From lowliest slave to the highest throne,
Gathered before gods to whom they atone,
With obsidian blade priests begin the flood,
Of a sacrificial ceremony sealed with blood.

But do not weep for the ritually slain,
Or condemn this misunderstood race,
This culture both in and out of place,
Who flourished before interference from Spain;
Immoral inquisitions wielding torture and pain,
Led by Cortez’s murderous gold greed,
Condoned by religion’s, fanatical need.

A pyrrhic victory for invading Spanish-whites,
Conquistadors, who murdered, pillaged and *****,
A savage slaughter that not even children escaped,
Brave Mexica vanquished in the one sided fights,
A nation revelling no more during hot sultry nights,
A lost civilization weeping for countless lost lives,
And yet, and yet . . . Mexica spirit; forever survives.

©Paul Chafer 2014

Aw, come on, don’t be sad,
Don’t you know you are loved?
Unburden regret, cast it down,
Living in the past burns,
Your future will be in flames,
Just let go, relax, hold me.

I need your touch: need!
You want to come in?
Do you? My door is open,
Live now, shed anxiety,
Uncertainty comes from dread,
Dread of what will be.

Yeah, that’s it, snuggle closer,
I have you now, you’re free,
And yet, also bound, safe,
No chains though, just love,
I ask for nothing, just you,
Smiling, happy, not sad: okay?

© Paul Chafer 2014

Sometimes,
Scars do heal,
Though they leave a mark,
It can be invisible,
But often, tis indelible,
Especially mental scarring,
And, Time, our constant companion,
Heals absolutely nothing,
They tell you it does,
Those who think they know,
Who think they feel your pain,
Who think they understand,
But in fact, grasp nothing,
Not one iota of the agony,
Not a single scrap of hurt,
Yes, they think Time does wonders,
But it doesn't, and they know it,
As you know it, as I know it,
It just lessens the pain,
Eases the burden,
It does offer hope, though,
This companion, offers a chance,
But one has to fight,
One has to struggle,
Rise up from the Dark,
Scream and rage at injustice,
Welcome Light onto one’s face,
Feel the warmth, love it,
Loving is the key,
And acceptance, just accept,
This life, this one life,
It may change, yes, maybe,
Change does happen,
Can really happen,
Sometimes.

© Paul Chafer 2014

Lips gently brush
against each other.
Their fresh moist
softness hot, yielding.
Tongues touch, executing
deft tantalising flicks.
A sensuous tease
before delving deeper.
Searching, probing, lips
pressing, passion flaring.
Hearts melting, spirits
soaring, rushing away.
Then suddenly, it's over
More than physical contact.
A more subtle, mental kiss.
Our fingers connect
briefly on parting.
Lingering slightly, and
I speculatively wonder.
Were our minds
in perfect synchronicity?
Or is there truly,
only one mind?
Such uncertainies arise,
with mental kissing.

© Paul Chafer 2014

Writing,
Scribbling down,
Such choices we make,
Edging the sliding doors of life,
Running, walking, or turning away,
How odd, these bold decisions,
Life-changing options,
Not bold at all, taken on a whim,
And yet, yet, they guide, hmm,
Saturating our souls, hearts, our minds,
With more permanence than we know,
Can ever know, for who can know,
What will become of us; any of us?
Are we indelibly tattooed, all of us?
Perhaps, and fate and destiny are dust,
Lives become intertwined, tightly bound,
Inextricably linked, so, so tight,
Through little more than pen and ink,
And on we flow, downstream,
Not, going with the flow, no,
Only ‘dead-fish’ go with the flow,
But ‘current drifting’ observing,
Before plunging beneath the surface,
Tugging the legs of the serene swan,
Playfully, cajolingly, teasingly,
Before emerging, drying off,
Thinking, choosing, acting,
Scribbling down,
Writing.

© Paul Chafer 2014

My poem was inspired by the poem below by Amanda FH.

We Are Art

The choices we make
The life-changing ones
Are indelibly etched on our hearts and souls and skin.
Every decision is a making, a changing,
I am tattooed
And so are you.
Let's compare our pictures
And tell each other stories.
Make notes on me
I'm still a choice
Waiting to be branded
Let your ink flow.

Cat black the wizard’s hat,
Marc Bolan did his thing,
A Jingle-jangle morning,
Bob Dylan’s posy ring.
Sunshine walking, yep,
Eddy Grant, whoop it up,
While Marley jammy-jams,
Herbal tea, oh do let us sup.
Rolling in the long grass,
Naked limbs having fun,
Much frolicking and kissing,
Laughter soaks up the sun.
Pleasure aches inside us,
Little scraps of pale blue,
Not flowers, ah, butterflies,
Diamonds made of dew.
So subtle in the long grass,
Loving: a delicious snack,
Drink each other for dinner,
Cat black the wizard’s back.

© Paul Chafer 2014