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Best Poems Written by Bethany Chipperfield

Below are the all-time best Bethany Chipperfield poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Saturday Night Hounds

They climbed
resuming the mongrel form, 
The twelve.
A catcalling mob
burdened by sympathetic stimulants, 
Procured from the neck.
Yippering yowls 
break from a youth, 
Torn from thick, incongruous lips.
As a pack
they leap onto the quivering metal, 
Slender paws slapping on ice.
Ice all round; 
leering...over bearing... ungracious ice
To aid their whimpering might.

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Fight - If Only For Love

The gust that holds your chest, immovable pride 
From zealous ancients, to this is say farewell. 
To this ardence I despair, hone your hatchet 
But not for death, for pride, for fickle lies. 

Imploringly I should stand upon those dead comrades 
Who lie in the cultivated foreign soil: gone, dead, no more – 
To speak the words you already know;
That this is you. 

I speak for life, I make declarations for love 
Sweet, spicy tasteless love; this is the only 
Protection needed, when metallic claws invade. 
The knowledge that out there, 
Someone, somewhere ultimately will care.

Details | Bethany Chipperfield Poem

Dear My Sweetheart,

Sweet as your gentle kisses were I cannot recall, 
For now my sweet, keep naught white but my pall, 
Listen not to my ghost who haunts men’s eyes, 
But whisper to me now, whisper your goodbyes.

I have nothing more to give but my holder, 
Do not keep our flame alight, please let it smoulder, 
We can be no longer, just you and only you, 
It is fair and denying that, would be untrue.

Never wonder, never dream of being bound again, 
My mind has gone, for I am bane, 
I wish it were different but my sweet, 
I dare say never once more shall we meet.

I hold to you my candle, it's flame is weak, 
Let it keep alight, let naught drop nor leak, 
Understand my wishes, and put your heart at rest, 
I love deeply, let me end my quest.

Details | Bethany Chipperfield Poem

Chastity's Belt

Grace is wasted, on the lost lips of Hope,
Like the charred, bereft bile that stains your tips.
The taste of your tongue, rough and fissured, hangs 
Haphazardly on mine, mind alive with the 
Temptation. 

Should I take your eyes? Worthless as they seem, 
As pitiful as the potholed, pits which run over your
Cheek. Do I forget my belt hung still 
On the mantle of a youths old dream –
To surrender a second with you?

Time has no feeling, when only with ancient eyes
Can you implore, duty bound to protect alien kin. I
Have forgotten them; like they never touched my name 
With long closed lips. You came then, blue waste in the 
Poison of your breath, sterile to my protest.

Do it, unlock it, steal my heart. Take the words of great 
Fallen men, call them your own lies. Deny the courage,
Carnage fought for the sweet silver of earthen skies, bite 
The dripping apple still hung on my frostbitten lips. 
Unlock it with the simple caress of your death enticing tips.

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To Enforce By Your Whim

A lover’s dance is but twice the pain, 
Dark and in duress
I have shamed. 
But you prolong your steps,
The dew upon your forehead; askew. 
Dare I stroke the flourished flower
that is draped upon your cheek.
An alibi of love is languidly dropped
from burned lips.
I hear you cry-
Yield!
Give me all. 

Is it marvelling what you do?
The gentle atonement
of my force. 
Dare I strive with you
in this – durst I?
The touch deepens and in my might
weakness is the only approach,
that dark eyed smile plying your lips – 
for you have won. 
A battle of ease, even on my knees 
I am lost.

You have made me lost to all of light, 
Here my love may end it’s plight.

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Resolving the Revolutionary

I saw you touch the raw ember of a fire 
With naught but the purity of your tongue,
Calm set, poised heart held high 
Vulnerable to all that might strike,
Centuries passed without cries parting
Your lips, ebony lips from deceased bones.
You stand on their outstretched limbs. 

I felt you brush the land with nectar
For the benefit of cutting it away,
Barren earth displayed, riddled with rust 
Yet tangy with the malicious force –
Force of those that set your fate 
In immortality, the fame of those long gone.
A future in your quaking palms.

I know you with your high strung boots 
Which trample all protests with a simple clack,
I know your fear, reverent in every quavering promise 
Of life, of hope, of the rich honey that runs thick 
In harsh blown trees and the thick rain on grass,
Your key is locked within the hollowed tomb of age 
And time, to speak your rhythm to all.
You are the revolutionary, you are the start.

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Played Through Love

Define love, explore it, and then show me in all the
leaps of life, every impediment thrown, battered away. 

Is it the temptation? I saw your eyes, caramel coated spice 
set on seduction, traversing up and down. 

You killed me then. Action states feelings – yours state nothing 
and should they? Could they? Never - not once in my belief. 

Chilled blood fuels my veins in this instance, oh the sweet 
corrupt shiver of your breath. Worthless on cyanosis lips. 

I know you tried pursuing then, reclaiming Love’s torn prizes, 
Oh prizes, I’ll never mean more than you mean to me.

Details | Bethany Chipperfield Poem

Love In the Close

Death - the still air stagnant with his death 
I see the lady, shattered on the floor, no breath. 

Dare I touch her, reach out? I can’t - I do, 
Cold eyes, a blank stare, soul flown, the ghost of you. 

She halts, the ingrains in her cheeks blowing
blooms like beacons, her heart is showing. 

I pull her, entice her, and bring her near, 
Trap her; iron tight, the beat of her unravelling fear. 

The case so bound, so wound, tight and close - 
cracked. Just once, and bare eyes turned morose. 

Only then, could I see the fissures, attempt the start, 
The start of stitching together her broken heart. 


Bethany Chipperfield

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My Father

My father lays sleeping on the couch, 
No sound is audible, his face a pall of white, 
The crinkled jaw my youth hardly saw, unhinged and opened wide
As if waiting for the words to say.
Too late.
As I watch I notice
The fine rivers his skin holds, time has ravaged him delicately
And yet; is the brow not creased? Savagely
I laugh, quick my hands stifle me.
Silence me.
The eyelids flicker as if the smooth wick
Has not been put out, heart racing 
I check the smoke, it still rises. Burnt; 
My cheeks
Sting, what might those subtle eyes see? 
For he is no canvas, 
Slack jawed and sprawling, 
No mighty king here, the drool that hangs from his lips no jewel, 
Youth conquered by battling age: 
A smile cracks my lips, smoking
I put the barrel down; lay it upon the coffee stained wood, 
One final glance behind, 
My father, his flame is gone.

Details | Bethany Chipperfield Poem

Lies

Bring all of humanity to it's knees 
begging on your whim, your mercy;
Then judge it.
Your cold, quivering, cracking lips
quipping tips to the 
wicked; to the rich.
Whilst knock-kneed choking
broken backed masses 
lay on the floor:
These are the downtrodden poor.
Panicked paws brutalized
beaten and crooked 
till cracked, battered by unrighteous 
laws. 
Taste the kiss off 
shivering lips. 
Starved, so shrunken and shriveled
with successive sighs 
at the procuring lies. 
Stale eyes stagnant and downcast,
skeleton skin scraped tight. 
Envision the puttering stutter 
of short,
slick,
sick,
flames,
Pocked and sputtering 
puckering towards you - 
towards us. 
Crooked, clasping, clutching 
talons,
torn worn and scarlet
grasping onto 
canescent, chalky, choking 
cloth.
All the while a honed 
heaving hook,
Hungrily hovers, swaying the 
still air,
ripping the wretched  
none forsook.
I see it, 
Picking the destitute poor 
with it's ripened 
carnivorous claw.
And me?
I sit scrambled in seclusion
ideas tumbling in my mind, 
Yet, I can't find the voice 
to tremble terrifically   
treble and thundering, 
to take the claw, 
the acts, pacts and laws 
lies that scream from ceilings 
and say - 
Stop.
We are all 
alone.