"savouring" poems
I sit on the step
And draw
The cold around me
Like a blanket,
Savouring the numbness
And the heat
That begins within.
Swallowed by the night
Drunk on wine
And stars.
Hot tears on cold cheeks.
Seasoning for
Chapped lips
Stinging
Bringing fresh tears.
I take refuge
In the silence,
Under the gaze of
Sympathetic eyes.
My friends.
My constant companions.
Drunk on wine
And stars.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
My back is laced with scars
Given to me as a parting gift,
As a symbol of the love-that-never-was
Some have already been fully absorbed
Just their tips sticking out,
Forming a grotesque picture
Others, still fresh, still being taken in
Just their tips are slightly embedded
Another one would hardly make a difference
Might wring a cry of pain but nothing much afterwards
-
The glint of the tear as it slides down,
silently,
heedlessly,
into the black abyss,
threatening, wanting,
desperation lacing it's movements,
-
There's a silent 'plop!' sound as it touches
The floor so far below.
So far, so far that no one can see it.
So deep, so deep that no one can hear it
She hardly notices the spare, the extra
There have been too many for her to care
For one more.
A dozen more land in her back,
Angered by her impassiveness
She swivels around because she's still savouring
The ones that are there
For a minute, time stops, the blades stop
The girl's heart, or where it should've been...
That empty little space, occupied by three long
Swords stuck in it's place
They pierce right through her body,
So different from those knives that decorate her back.
Their tips face your eyes
The sword entered her through her back
It would've been a tragedy if only her eyes...
Oh, if only her eyes were something more
Than just endless holes
( - deeper, darker, blacker
more despairing than
the black abyss under her
very feet
- )
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 8:00 AM UTC
What will it be like
To kiss you?
Will it be
Romantic
Your soft lips
Pressed against mine
Our eyes closed
Savouring the moment
Arms wrapped around each other
The epitome of perfection.
Or will it be
Hot and passionate
My back against the wall
Our bodies pressed tightly against each other
Your tongue in my mouth,
And mine, in yours
As my hand gets entangled in your hair
And yours, stroking my skin.
Will I experience an eruption of
Emotions, feelings?
Will it leave me wanting more?
Well,
There's only one way to know.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
a single column around
my favourite part,
the inside of your wrists
I brush the fibers against porcelain
wanting to leave a mark
let me create a map of red lines
and bruises on your skin
this way I'll know where to
lightly caress or
run my tongue along or
dig my fingers into
breath you into me
and sync our breaths
slow and calm
I run the bight along your arms
tug it across your chest
it is meticulous as the rope runs tandem
and I go slow
savouring each ******* fold
over, under, through, tighter, harder
your smile commands me
so I ask you to beg
tell me you want it
I want to hear it
tell me you want me
of course I'll give in
we both know you're in charge
I maintain tension with the rope
it's a language I've become fluent in
I maintain tension through eye contact
though I pray you won't see through me
I maintain control
of myself and keep to the task at hand
wrapping you like a gift, like my gift
subspace is a land I've never been to
but I know the face you make
when you get there
your eyes flit and I can sense your arousal
our breathing quickens
as you contract against my lips
you are unbound and released
as I pull the rope tighter
I'll bind you free
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
Awaiting the storm
Forming on distant shores.
Preparing myself for
The oceans tidal swell.
Opening my heart
To the rawest of elements.
I ride the anticipation
Of the coming waves.
Conquering the building
Fear as the water leaps high.
A great solid wall
Unfurling its rippling energy.
Through the tube,
Board skimming, skipping.
Flirting with danger,
Risking everything,
Inside a living
Hollow cocoon of
Thundering power.
Controlled fear beats
Inside my pumping heart,
Driving my adrenaline
Through to spiritual fulfilment.
On exiting the beast,
It rolls onward to its death.
Through its existence
We both lived, sharing
A unique oneness.
Children of nature within
A union of creation, so special,
It takes the breath away.
Savouring my exhilaration,
I see another wave being born,
And prepare to surf again.
©Paul M Chafer 2014
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
Parallel lines do not meet.
Together they travel,
all through a lifetime
savouring the solitude
of each others company.
Intact they keep their uniqueness,
never crossing each other's path, giving space
to the other to bloom,
flourishing in each other’s company.
Parallel lines do not meet
when they meet, they die!
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC
in the noisy
silence
i sit and dream
of dancing in
the rain, catching
drops as they fall
between my lips
savouring the
silver nourishment of
each
germinating thought
of tranquility
Jan 26, 2011
Jan 26, 2011 at 1:27 PM UTC
The sun shines, the sea sparkles,
Laughter fills the air, delighted chuckles
Bubble from cavorting cupids,
This is their time, memories built
On a sweet summer day,
Happiness founded on laughter and play.
This languid Aphrodite, though
Must be content with vicarious joy,
Seeking balm in the salt sea,
Soaking invisible wounds, savouring the sting.
Far away, Adonis waits, and waits,
To bathe with her once more.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 8:14 AM UTC
Taste me with all of your senses
Inhale my essence......breathe me in deep.....
Darkness pressed against hunger..
Sliding my tongue, I drew it in like a feast
Savouring the taste as it passed my lips...
Shadows cast silken threads
Screaming desire!
Spinning silken webs around my body,
Searing my skin, as hot breath spilled itself
Against my salted flesh...
Moisture and heat fused,
Savage, pulsating, lingering, where wicked hovered
Sleek, against my heart’s beat...
Black satin shivered beneath wildfire hips;
Slow dancing a sweetened heat,
Writhing beneath the shimmer-gleam;
As I lay for him, lathed by the parched desert of his
Relentless tongue...wearing me wet....
I moaned across his taut flesh,
Strewn beneath the sliding wander of skin thrusts,
Drowning in a plum-dark eclipse of heat!
Where tenderness lay opened for him...
Teasing breaths rushed kisses between thighs
Quivering,
Wanting to break free, the restraints,
Stretching my body beneath his tasting..
I felt the essence beating ****** tempo's,
Passion succumbing to insatiable need;
And I gave him my body's silk-white,
Trembling under the furtive delirium of our fever...
The fierce moon eclipsed
A serum to slide my quickened breath;
And his eyes watched, deep in dark, unchanging depths,
As I lay naked in his arms....................
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
The age of letting time take its
own, slow course is gone, perhaps
For every hour is rush hour,
Every meal is a quick-bite,
That cup of coffee always instant,
Honking even before the signal goes
from yellow to green, the rule
The age of savouring the moment
to its delicious limit is gone, perhaps
For every flaw is now a breaking point,
Every argument cause for a split-up
Every mismatch provocateur of second thoughts
In the age of waiting being obsolete,
Patience becoming a virtue redundant,
The plain, small joys of life becoming insignificant,
The material replacing the abstract,
The direction of the swipe on a touchscreen
Becoming the decider of the fate of love stories,
I'll never find you, perhaps,
If this world continues to function
Like a real-life dating app
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
I pour myself into
your glass each night,
a toxic taste, I beg
for you to choke on.
You drain our bottle
dry, drinking desert
laps but still thirsting
for Pacific oceans.
Delving into firework
taste-buds, savouring
how we spill so easily in
nights drunken palms.
Telling me I'm cheap
stuff, liquid eyes that
keep you sober, but are
still a tempting sip.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
London,
Beating heart of England,
Charismatic time-capsule thrumming to its own rhythm,
History looming, akin to massive waves splashing down,
Drenching all, the unwary, the scholar, soaking it up,
Savouring every scintillating droplet, blissful, hopeful,
Weaving through lives, changing with every moment,
Variety of race and creed, intermingling, jostling, noticing,
Sharing sight, sound, colour, scents, smiles and frowns,
Pulsing soul of people, thriving and alive, buzzing with spirit,
In Camden, easy-going, a friendly riot of textured-hazy-peace,
Artful structures of Belgravia, magnolia temples of affluence,
Lauding architectural finery while mere mortals pass through,
Mind swinging through centuries, flowing along the river artery,
Bridges carrying us home, keeping their own dark secrets,
Cranes rising high, creating modern palaces, new beginnings,
Old lives wreathed in the foggy past of legendry deeds,
Embellished beyond reality, ghosts crying out, warning,
We can never own this city, never know this city, not really,
Guardian dragon allows us entrance, pours herself upon us,
Takes our love, progresses while we observe,
All left behind, knowing, feeling, sensing,
We are but shadows in her Light,
Dust on her famous streets,
Blessed to know her,
To breathe her,
Love her,
London.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
I wonder where I'll be when you come for me
Will you steal me away in the dead of the night
Or will you send me a message before you arrive
Will there ever be a right time
Or would I embrace you like I've been waiting for this moment my whole life
Will I get a chance to say goodbye
Would it be rushed with loud cries
Or would I leave with a life fulfilled
In the arms of my love
And a smile on my face
I wonder if it would be painful
Sudden in the breeze on the concrete outside
The distant sound of sirens lulling me away
Or patiently savouring me slowly from the inside
One ***** at a time
A pinch of clips on my fingers, my heart beeping me out
Would it be panicked and rushed
Would I try to escape and run
Desperate to evade your advances
Then hopelessly succumb
Would I remember God
Would I call for him in that moment
Would I ask Him to save me
Or let you take me
So He can keep me safely in his gardens
I'd like to think I won't be afraid
I've always known it would happen
Yet I can feel fear choking me at just the thought
But if that's of the process or the destination
I guess I'll have to wait
Until it's my time to go
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
Whispers carry whispers from the corners of yearn....into night, beyond where stars beacon light,
Where rainbow hued visions lend their voice to the chorus of flower songs that filter the moon-strewn path
Carrying me into the heart of him....
Colours within colours touch softly in between, where butterflies meditate and bees indulge their mystery,
Dancing wild in friendly shadows, where whisper-webs sway,
So delicately time is spun, setting me amidst a breathless dream....
Yet I am shy-skin, when sleepy eyes canvas the soft earth of my body, delicately fierce,
Lifting to touch his mouth in my quiet passion,
I am blushed in a pool of desire's wake, where embrace-touch corners my flower, suckled....
Hip-rocking skims wetness' swallow with a voiceless tongue, to render the moan of rushed inferno,
Poised upon the brink of swollen intimacy, sliding deep into rivers of pleasure, where warm waters rage for a slow ****** baptism toward Nirvana;
Wet lipped, whimpering licked to rain....
Darkness presses against my lips, sliding my tongue, and I draw it in like a feast
Aroused by every touch, my mouth thirsting, body suppliant
Savouring the feel of it in my mouth....again, and again....
I quiver in silent silk, crushing gartered sin, passion clenched hips moaning lip-speak;
And the moon screams its own lust, an opalescent spinneret, shimmering,
Diamond speckled, beyond the night...beyond dreams.....into the still of mirrored light....
Waiting, always waiting,
I weep for the beauty you pour
Raining me..........................................
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 12:00 PM UTC
Sweet vanilla kisses, amid an explosion of bubblegum sauce.
With lips now blue, we break and share a flake;
The chocolate melting in our mouths,
Like my heart, the first time I met you.
“You’ve got a bit on your nose," I say.
Laughing, you wipe it away elegantly.
Fresh strawberries planted in eager mouths,
Excited eyes blazing in the sun.
This love is intoxicating.
Sinking satisfyingly into a strawberry bliss,
Summer love is planted on the tongue.
Savouring: the taste, the moment,
savouring the one.
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 5:59 AM UTC
Nothing intimidates me more,
Than a woman’s inviting smile,
It pierces right down to the core;
Appealing to everything I adore;
This subtle, suggestive, wile:
Whetting the sense of anticipation,
Igniting fires of the imagination.
Nothing possesses more power,
Than a woman’s determined will;
Disguised as a delicate flower,
Sweetness smothering the sour,
Regardless of the pyrrhic thrill;
Bewitchment in everything but name,
Savouring the illicitness of the game.
No ordinary man has a prayer,
When a woman stakes her claim;
She’ll welcome you into her lair,
Reject her desires if you dare,
Her revenge has legendary fame;
Travelling incognito: deadly intentions,
From this wrath, there are no preventions.
Do not ever, ever, underestimate.
That which cannot be understood:
Avoid the temptation to speculate,
Categorize, classify or evaluate,
The secret mysteries of womanhood;
Whenever tempted by an inviting smile;
Nod politely then turn, and run a mile.
© Paul Chafer 2014
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC
Palms overhead sway,
nudged by the occasional breeze.
The chatter crescendoes
before dying down...
To make way for the call of prayer.
It called to its followers.
So calm...
So sincere...
People hunched over their tables.
Savouring delights that came on plates.
Wafting aromas,
mingle like the swirls on candy.
Drenching our senses...
As we immerse ourselves further
in such good company.
I looked at the eyes that surrounded me...
Only soft, kind gazes greeted back.
There are no shadows here...
No silhouettes...
Only faces I know
generous with their gift of glow.
A rising warmth
emanates from the pits within.
In this here circle,
no matter how motley,
I feel alive.
I'm drinking up to a stupor...
This lovely band of five.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
The distance between me and she
When easily traversed by arm extended,
And finger tips, always is;
Nearby means a wholeness,
And in it the reasons to stitch together
This moment and the next;
Savouring the experience of place
It makes more the whole
when we both partake of the view;
The flavours, of the labours,
Of the growing, of the plants, of the garden
Are ignited by them being for her;
The skeleton frame of our days,
Is fleshed with a texture soft and supple,
By the day-to-day of us;
The being apart is the punctuation
In the subsequent being together
Of a sentence we serve as one;
It's that glowing strand of highway
That may go short or long over the hill,
That we discover together.
In the silence of the night,
It's the weight of all the breaths
We will exhale and inhale together.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
Alone but together
over the Christmas days
time was not running out
for once the kitchen clock
had stopped looking at him
meaningfully and she
today a thing of beauty
of gathered curves
flowing in and from
that special frock
bought for an opening
(and perhaps worn once?)
she was lovelier then
than any woman
he had known or seen.
Earlier that morning in place of falling
ever falling towards passion’s state
he had lain peacefully beside her
and from his pillowed space in bed
had gazed . . . instead
They did the usual things
but with an unusual care
taking time with presents’ paper
savouring wine between sips of water
cutting into that well-iced cake
and sensing from a distant room
the scent of candles glimmering
On St Stephen’s Day
they’d upped and offed
into the glen that rose above the town
that held her world of work
of children house and home
walking up through bare winter trees
where far below a stream rushed valley-ward
undrowned for once by the traffic’s noise
and the sudden rush of the railway's train.
About to turn for home
he saw her stoop
to look to gather to pocket
Some sixth sense told him then
an idea had formed itself
when as between her fingers
she held five acorns from the path
not squirreled-perfect shiny ones
but damaged and in need of care
these cups and fruit garnered about
with slivers of broken oaken bark
Later she left them lying
on a sheet of card
their winter colours
true but hard
in the kitchen’s light
objects suddenly
removed from all disorder
of a woodland way.
An hour or so perhaps later
still with her small fingers
she had stitched until . .
no not stitched she said
darned with blue and red
and silk-golden thread
in between and then around
these fractured acorn shells
picked from the path with
the cracked and shattered
broken bark now made
good as new and mended well
Her smile expressed a triumph
and a joy of a doing done
and from laughing eyes
and heightened voice
he sensed something
stretch into time’s distance
something wholly private
she would guard
and hold and own
to be only hers
and only hers alone.
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
I've only been on this earth for 17 years
But already had the good honour of experiencing
evil and good from the youth of my peers
My precious vessel, you deserve nothing but the best
learn from my mistakes and make your life rest
One: The acne on your face does not determine how beautiful you as a person
Neither you're weight, height or stature. Your skin a shade of wonder, wear only the (dna) makeup of me and your father
Two: Your body is your temple, not a museum for those who want to feast on your flesh, for those dead eyes are shady and they want nothing less.
Three: Fall in love with everything around you, the stars, sky and moon. The sound of laughter, the rain drops too. Look from balconies and trees at the veins of the cities. And take pictures of people and weddings, savouring silver white memories.
Four: Make your own mistakes and learn. You are allowed to feel pain, there is still blood in you veins but don't let that sweep you away away away on dandelion heads
Five: Dearest, don't worry for a moment what they think; be prepared when they want to see you sink, respond with dimples, sunshine and light. For this is what makes the darkness strike
Six: Finally My girl love yourself, for all that you are and want to be; the music you love, the food you detest, those long family outings and that boy that you like best.
The list could go on and on with verse and song and book and word but Dear Daughter let this be the basis of your life. Carry it and write it on your flesh beating heart. For your flesh beating heart deserves life in it fullest.
©Rebekah Lazarus 2014
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
By leading with heart
Using a guillotine
Is where some start
Following Zen
And learning to crawl
Through ration of arts
Savouring the indelible sweetness
Helps lead the precocious
Enjoying inclusions
Doesn't have to preclude
Seeing with eyes
Can lead to deception
Best plant the seed
Using inception
That's why the Queen of Hearts
Whispers off with your head
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
As if I’m going to wash my sins,
by finding a substance so viscous - to annihilate the acid
that seeps through me.
Perhaps it’s you refilling my first glass,
which is dried up by 11,
and replenished by 5 past.
Must I keep forcing it down my refusing gut,
so I can bare the stutter drooling,
crumbling, out your teeth.
Till I’ve sipped needlessly on your lies
and fell drunken on your delusional fables.
Now I’m slurring in my nights,
awoke, still high on your acid.
Eyes are bulging, bloodshot
from you firing bullets of your decaying burden.
-
As I walk I stumble,
diverging around solum streets.
Crows peck at my skin, to prompt me at sunrise.
Now and again I revisit
the morsels I had collected from the bottom of your chalice.
Savouring as I gulp down my regret.
Desperately urging to be hungover your reveries
one last time.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 7:01 PM UTC
He showed up with flowers I didn't deserve.
My hair uncontrollable and my dress to short.
He said my name but it held no meaning in his mouth,
spit out without savouring.
I didn't know what to say when he expressed my beauty.
To much wine can make me bold.
Mouth has no filter,
cheeks flushed pink and my smile to free.
My laughter bursting brightly.
I began to notice his smile,
the silkiness of his voice.
He took my hand in his and there was no spark,
no strangled butterflies.
I fumbled awkwardly and he stared to hard.
Eyes unreadable and yet I already knew.
He asked to come in and it hit me,
that I was tired of dreaming of you at my window,
I'm always sitting on the edge of sorrow.
He kissed me so deeply that it's amazing he didn't steal my breath.
********** me with eager hands,
his lips lost on skin.
Eyes closed tightly,
I embrace the moment of letting someone in.
To rough and undeserving,
no emotion,
just need.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
Whisky, all on my veins, the
golden liquor, The fine
malted grain spirit, aged in the
oak barrels for years,
The exquisite taste, with an ice,
or two for its anger to calm,
with zests of an orange, with
a lemon peel hooked on the glass,
with the light sip, savouring it
all over the taste buds, But
Its not why the glass is held,
All the times, its not all, Its,
Its about letting go, of which
can't be forgotten, letting go of what,
can't be let gone, most of all,
Burning the affectionate heart,
to debris, never being able to love.....
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC