It's not actually a flower
It's a painting of a flower
No definition beyond
The flower's we see
Out on the lawn
Merely an image
Paint fumes replaced
The charmers scent
That once
"Meaninglessly"
Drew our mates

An orchestrated opus
Of wayward heart
Galaxies of lyric-less
Wayward stars
Glimmering
From who knows
Afar
Meaningless poetry
Is all we are

Why do morning dove
Insist to sing
Meaningless songs
Birds of prey scream
Blinding beams of sunlight
Reflect off mighty seas
Blinding our eyes
Yet still we believe
What meaning has
The giant ancient trees
Majestic mountains
Purple beauties
These impressions
Of nature only define
Meaningless poetry
That beautifully rhymes
.................................

.
Two Knights out and two Knights in,
two Knights in the tourney ring.
With a lance and sword and shield,
no quarter must either Knight yield.

With each muscle and each breath
they must fight on until death.
With mace chain and insult calls,
two Knights stand 'til one of them falls.

The white Knight is a charmer,
black Knight in polished armour,
to win a fair Princess to wed.

The white Knight is a chancer,
the black Knight is a dancer,
who will die on a grassy bed?



© Pagan Paul (25/05/19)

.
So feint the rhythm of life,
a weak pulse seeking to hide,
the smell of fresh rain coming,
as clouds build high on the side.
Long waiting for cool moisture,
the promise is close at hand,
teasing out the breaking heart,
the rhythm of life unplanned.


© Pagan Paul (28/07/19)

.
A door opens with creaking sounds,
inwards to a dark and cool room,
untouched for many hundreds of years,
barely a flicker lights the gloom.

Peeling decoration whispers
at a past richly bottled in wealth,
now nearly empty except for
a curious book upon a shelf.

Bound and covered in lizard skin,
with words that swim on the pages,
shades and shadows cross together,
spells cast by the ancient sages.

A long bony index finger
tracing symbols down an old spine,
pre-history condensed in leafs,
that unfold through space and time...



© Pagan Paul (09/11/19)

.
Lay me down upon the moss,
cover me with autumn leaves,
rest my body in the forest
to be swallowed by the trees,
and let the fleeting moments
whisper my name to the breeze,
as the cool earth welcomes me,
let me go with comfortable ease.



© Pagan Paul (27/10/19)