The most stunning of beauties
Is seen in the broken vessel;
Tis, that broken vessel
That carrie's so much pain
And is overlooked alot,
Yet so astonishing in the inside
And so underrated.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

as if the world could collapse with one disapproving
syllable spoken from your mouth,
as if the reason you hardly sleep at all is because the sun
and moon got in an argument over who gets to spend their hours with
you and decided to compromise,
as if the rain falls simply because you look so lovely with
an umbrella in your hands and I secretly forget mine
on purpose because I want to stand under yours with
you.

A falcon
One broken wing;
Yet still flyeth..



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

When the winds blow and howl through
  The air like an exasperated ghost,
Her hair becomes drenched in oxygen and light,
  Slowly levitating above her shoulders.

Each gold and silver laden tip flies just as
  She flies.

A storm approaches from the seaward way,
  Bringing a fierce sadness that eats away
At the rocky coastline and the houses
  On weak stilts.

But she dare not move.

To what extent is her fear innate?

She embraces the thunderous turmoil,
  The salty brine and sand flooding her eyes;
She cannot tell if it is tears.
  Or the ocean's waters.

The roar of the storm is the white noise
  That helps her sleep in despair.

She is fearless despite that dejection has consumed
  All that remains.

Although sorrow has taken the city and painted
  Its bridges and buildings in hues of grey and black...

Somehow, she is the only one with
  Colour.

dream of lilies,
blues and whites
in their little islands,
flower of the starlight,
flower of the water.