Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
listen -
hear no sound, feel
only wind on its way, ghostly
nothings, but hush to sharp wings
of ocean birds so fraying as they cut
the sky, shuttle to fairways, far aways,
in plaintive cries, i hear what they say,
sailing into the jeweled skylights, but i
am only weight of air, still on ground,
i mumble out, sidle the bone tides
that roll to land, grains of clarity,
i am mist and tear, a world
of hollow, i am that sound -
of ocean in a shell.
 Apr 2015 henry s
Paul M Chafer
Even at my age,
I see mountainous lands in the sky,
Languishing among towering clouds,
A lofty empire, lost kingdoms,
Perhaps a strange magical realm,
Thriving with dwarves and giants,
Maidens in towers awaiting rescue,
Where lone horse warriors wander,
Maybe observing us, far below.

Must be a poetic creative thing,
Or simply the child deep within,
Viewing through the eyes of the man,
Dreaming ancient days of long ago,
When the child yearned to be grown,
To know all there is to know,
Never appreciating escapism,
The chance to drift within time,
Ponder upon distant, aerial, worlds.

Or maybe I’m just a dreamer,
That and nothing more, hmm,
Telling myself, I am a poet,
A procrastinating creative spirit,
In love with the trappings of art,
The child asleep within wisdom,
Languishing among towering clouds,
I see mountainous lands in the sky,
Even at my age.

©Paul M Chafer 2015
Inspired by the poem ‘A Procession Of Days’ and dedicated to fellow visionary, friend and poet, W L Winter.
 Apr 2015 henry s
kaylene- mary
He was a phenomenon wrapped in silver skin
With brown eyes, crooked teeth
And craters above his collarbones that caught the rain
His chest was made of ocean more than bone
And I folded my promises into paper boats
And sailed them along his body
His hands caught the distance between us
With every word his cheeks would descent

*"I burnt holes into the darkest of skies
Allowing you to see that even at night
The angels still spill through the cracks"
 Mar 2015 henry s
martin
Let it come
 Mar 2015 henry s
martin
Don't approach a dog unknown to you
Holding out your hand, making eye contact
You may frighten him
Let him come to you

Don't write a poem uninspired
It won't work out
In good time
Let it come to you

Don't go out there seeking love
Like a child with a butterfly net
Live your life
Let it come to you
 Feb 2015 henry s
Eudora
Such luscious lips, with pinkish glow!
She's beautiful.

*
Her chapped lips,  faucet like,
cascade only words of kindness..
She's beautiful.

Such pretty,alluring eyes!
She's beautiful.

Her heavy-lidded eyes : a pair of lenses
capturing only great sharp shots,
they see clearly only the good in people..
They never despise.
She's beautiful.

Such a lovely, curvaceous figure!
She's beautiful.

Within the slim figure,  is a soul
who'll share her food with the hungry,
even if it means she'll be left with nothing
for dinner.
She's beautiful.

*
Beauty is only skin deep..
Inspired by a brief chat with a dear friend today and Audrey Hepburn's insights on beauty
'Look beyond the features, it is reflected in the soul..'

— The End —