with all that the eyes witness
the heart stays surprisingly languid
and unmoved to any kind of useful action.

its the shaft of Sunlight in the forest
the upturned face of a child

the parents rushing outside
at the sound of the incoming

the glade, the child turned to ash.

I'm sick to death of me
living vicariously
through meaning-
less words like
a mocking bird
mocking a gull
on a wave-less shore
or a man without oars
(f)or a life (raft) on a lost
ship adrift in an angry sea
and no anchor or eyes
on the horizon somewhere
west of anywhere but here.

Mine Jane, to whom do I compareth thee?
To the moon's, sunset's, star's; ancient sea's?
Thou art the rose of the Philippines, the heat
To mine *****. O' mine woman, thou art the
Divine, the release of dopamine in mine
Dismayed mind; thou art so fine mine dear,
In every calendar season. With thee I laugh
With none questions nor reason's, thy
Countenance is of the ethereal race;
O' dearest, mine pet, one day ourn heart's
Shalt beat in one stage. Darkness shalt be
Trampled under ourn wild toes,
Singing song's, speaking hymn's
Saints do only know. Mayest
Ourn caru grow, mayest god
Bless ourn love, elated
by eachother's word's
Of hope, babes of the
Same yolk; apparition's
Of the same cloak,
Vibrant in color.

©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley, (àgapi mou) dedication