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Best Poems Written by Phil Naylor

Below are the all-time best Phil Naylor poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Strawberry Love

I am looking blindly into the fridge
Searching and savouring the chilled air, I reach in
Take hold of a strawberry and hand it to you.
Its body, fresh and pure can relax in your palm.
You are the keeper of my heart.

Its many eyes, black seeds that rest around
The waist, sleep in cycles, stare out into the darkness.
It remains on your flesh, Merges like a collage with the twists and bends.
As time passes, its chill dwindles. Harsh heat invades the creases.
Its natural form bleeds away in a sticky juice.

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Within

Through consciousness and minds collapsed
this dead weight hangs from severed nerves.
The tiny thrusts of light that laugh,
mocked by demons chewing words.

That open eye, with crackling buzz
Your skull is humming, crystal-grin.
Sipping memories, tasting touch
Life has flowered, born within.

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Inner Strength

As if the moon is smiling boastfully 
When mist or rain and leaves are moving faster 
than your eye could catch. As if trees 
are curling up in pain beneath your tears, soon to be discovered - 
the manes of beasts streaming as they gallop 
through the fields toward you, flaming eyes that speak of evil.
 
As if the past were leaves and leaving and the still window 
stands frail and dormant exposing a crippled soul. 
As if your eyes half closed and the slit of light got brighter, 
caught in liquid glass, an orchestrated prayer. 
As if this blaze of white on grass were more than strength 
and blue an unknown peace. 

The length of the valley a sombre sea, battered and bruised by memories, fears, 
revisited torture. The waves of hatred churn. 
And you, a child in rough weather shouting louder and louder 
as you sink beneath oppressive grasps. 
Stand firm, intoxicate yourself with self acceptance. 
A secret, an antidote that whispers truth - hard bread for the palate, 
liquid too hot for the lips. Love.

Details | Phil Naylor Poem

Childhood Extract

Imagine the weight of the air in that house
which in the summer months would strangle you,
wearing heated gloves. Tough luck.
A gulf of emotion that is always a week ahead;

trying to claw back
a sense of permanence

as it lingers in a cold sweat. Windows
crack with discomfort; the place is dead.
All of those whispering memories
that remind me of my crippled crown

an accolade
of atrocities;

dripping with blood that is warm, not red.
Dried it looks a heavy brown, stiff as lead.
Imagine the ricochet of a drunken fist
that snuggles nicely between the nose and lips.

Impact dribbling
down

the spine and slapping the hips. The barrels
of my skull, those holes that whistle in the wind
a sort of lubricated lisp that rests on tears.
A sense of brutal butchery that batters

the borders of belief,
a false economy

to pray that some how, some day and in some
small way this tale will turn. Dismay,
this is not pain. This is not the teething
clamp of a hungry blade, the creasing

curve
through flesh and vein.

This is my reality, or at least it was,
why? because. The luck of the draw, the imploding
exploding, digesting, regurgitating ying and yang
of this universe - the gaunt keeper of humanity.

Sanctimonious,
a symbol of sellotape

that binds me perversely to my past. Manipulative
memories that need to be restrained, filed
with all the crap. A thrill, a subversive
all too serious sensational sense

of seniority,
capped with stark stupidity.

An intoxicated journey that reached an end. Your
choices scarred me; let's not pretend.

Details | Phil Naylor Poem

Sonnet For You

I imagine myself in no other way
in no other time, or place.
I imagine myself gazing upon
no other smile, or face.
I imagine myself amongst the stars
long after life has leapt
From within this empty shell of mine
and aside you, I have crept.
The moon in all her glory,
Grins long and loud and pure.
I see no fault or blemish in you,
I give my heart in exchange for yours.
To spend away eternity
beneath the gaze of forever.
Wrapped in a love so deep and tight
not even time can sever.

Details | Phil Naylor Poem

Suicide

It made you feel good, emptied
Of emotional weight. You lay against
The enamel, water up to your waist
And of course the blade.
You wanted to make it special. Scented
Candles and the blinds pulled up.
You could see the sun, rough like a tangerine.
Crowded by the sky, you felt its pain.
You let the blade kiss your flesh, a jagged tear
It was strong like leather, some sort of mesh.
The water turned pink, left a tidemark
Round the tub. He said he’d leave you,
In a weighted breath, you uttered ‘Good luck.’

Details | Phil Naylor Poem

Red Rose

Give me a red rose,
fill each petal with your love.
Allow the tenderness of your eyes
to peruse the pastel approvingly.

Give me a red rose,
as deep and passionate in colour as can be found.
Let it run across my cheek,
falling with your hand like a star.

Give me a red rose,
straight from the garden in your soul.
Nurtured with the light of your eyes,
the beats of your heart.

Give me a red rose,
that depicts the passing hours in your arms.
Not as a blase' depiction of love.
It is a metaphor. It is the blossoming of beauty.

Give me a red rose,
leave the thorns attached.
Don't avoid the cuts and pain - they will heal
letting the stem hold tighter to the smile.

Give me a red rose,
I'll give you eternity. A speckled sparkle
in a raindrop that clings to the colour.
A moment that lives for eternity,  beyond the vessel.

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Heavenly Beauty

I find your beauty in every second
I see it even in the dark.
Itensified in the shadows
embraced by the night, like stars.

Like a ribbon untangled you dance
around the labyrinth of my heart.
You move with graceful precision
catching light before you dance, before we part.

The sun lays itself within your hair
touching your porcelain face softly,
then catching your words as they emerge for air
glittering toward eternity on their lofty quest.

There are flowers that grow only in Heaven.
Kissed by the lips of Gods, adorning Olympus like glitter.
You are as precious and as eternally beautiful.
You are beyond this world; comforting and bitter.

Details | Phil Naylor Poem

Betrayal

I remember feeling sunshine
washing up against the fabric of my soul.
It filled the cracks and crevices.
Dripped dramatically, filling holes.

I remember feeling loved
as you sought me out like tide to innocent shore.
It was an upside-down attraction. Riddled with bony shells
that revealed the carnage - your shadowy core.

I remember feeling lost
like the sun, as night devoured day.
I gave all of that trusting tint as you mixed it, maliciously
into memories that fade and rust, turn to dust - flitter away.

I remember feeling empty
as you lay it down before me, dead and still.
My heart that once beat loudly, now hides
like an injured animal, evading the the final blow - the kill.

Details | Phil Naylor Poem

The Church

Upon his rock he built it
washed throughout the world,
through the toll of bells in the air
and the curl of smoke, rising.

Snakes that silently slithered
whispering 'come hither' to those in need.
Then they feed and take away the light that rose,
fell deep to the depths and rose again.

Only he who can be like a child will enter
through gates adorned by light and flower.
Through their lies they dispell your belief,
they sour the fruit that blooms.

Veined marble that beats with the passion of the millenia,
the prayer that dispells the darkness within.
Inside you is the alter, not in the stone or gold that adorns.
Perpetual innocence at battle with sin.