Dragonfly hovers
over a silver river
awaiting a mate.

© Pagan Paul (14/07/18)
The poet's heart is tender and guarded.

Quietly observant,
to be seen.

But yet, hidden,
knowing its depth of feeling
may be perceived as extreme.

The poet's heart might even be called weak.

But what they don’t know
is that the poet's heart is strong.

Because the poet's heart can make believe.
For poets everywhere.
And her arms enfold me,
I lay my cheek
against her breast.
The shaking starts,
the tears fall,
as sobs emerge unhindered.
Sobs from way down deep,
and I hear her heart,
slow, steady, metronomic.
So I follow its rhythm
along a path richly bathed
in warm sunlight.
Through an archway
and across a threshold shrine,
the cemetery of the Ancients.
A hundred thousand names,
carved in marble,
adorned with statues and plinths.
Holding knowledge of old,
and the sound of silence,
like an abandoned library.

The shadow of love hovers close,
driving through midnight mists
and leading me on.
Practising narrative necromancy,
reanimating old words,
giving them life newly born,
upon the first carved marbles,
its names burnished with wisdom,
and the anonymity of obscurity.
There glows one name
in forgotten script
and I know my deepest identity,
the weight of the aeons
flows free into my mind,
histories of the millennia.
I know
my Forest Lady holds secrets
that belong to me.
And she gestates them all,
the ghosts of old picture frames,
a coveted pregnancy.

A pathworking, an etherical dream,
and her heart skips a beat,
as another part of me
crumbles and dies,
to mingle with the dust
of ancient knowledge.

© Pagan Paul (11/07/18)
Pagan Paul Jul 6
Speak to me, your acolyte,
from high upon your chair.
Gaze down at my simplicity,
catch me with your stare.
Reach out with your fingers,
touch me with your smile.
Embrace me with your heart,
and lay with me a while...

...The gentle waves of lovers grace
fall soft across your perfect face...

...Whisper to me, your apprentice,
from the pillow next to me.
Gaze across at my paradise,
catch me with your need.
Together we painted the dawn,
but at the ending of the day
its time the curtain descended
and closed our passion play.

© Pagan Paul (2017/18)
Pagan Paul Jul 3
Thrown into an event,
temptation wearing a smile,
as you fall into the void
behind my pale blue eyes,
a willing traveller
through gateways of adventure.

And you stumble through
to mystery, unknowable puzzles,
a Pandora's box of imagery,
bound and enslaved,
to dream, reality, memory,
bedecked with lucid hallucination.

The intensely dark and hollow,
the bright lights hot shine,
all swirl in symbiosis,
dazzling and confusing your view,
assaulting your quiet feelings
with butterflies and nausea.

And you sink enthralled,
appalled, intoxicated,
as thoughts, desires, pictures,
flash before your eyes unbidden,
products of inertia
from the depths of my mind.

© Pagan Paul (02/07/18)
Someone once said they'd like to take a peek into my bi-polar psychedelic washing machine mind.
Despite the Govt. Health Warning and exclusion zone.
But ... if I am the guide, then the journey begins ... are you scared?
Pagan Paul Jul 2
When a Dryad cries …

… the bright red leaves

and the tree stands
in a pool          
          of blood

… forest green leaves

and the tree stands
in a pond          
          of heartbreak

… red and green leaves

and the tree stands
in a lake          
          of sorrow

© Pagan Paul (01/07/18)
Dryads are Tree Spirits that live symbiotically with their tree.
They live and die with the tree.
They cry when the tree is dying.
  Jul 1 Pagan Paul
Haiku Donna
So there she was I
knew I saw Jennifer the
fairy in the sky

O she twinkled bright
left happy zig zags flowers
floating so freely

Anyway as I
sunbathed whilst dean fished ,I saw
a big willow tree

Oh my he looked like
had the hump , Jennifer made
his eyes go bosseyed!

She was trying to
round up the dragonflies but
they kept flying off

I was observing
as usual eating a cheese
and tomoto roll

Jennifer was bored
again so she surfed across
the pond racing the

mallards and swans , her
tiny wings tried to keep up
but she had slowed down

But Jennifer was
not going to lose , she loved
to win always..it

was a problem she
had since she was born , her best
friend Peter the Snail

told her on many
occasions to lose is not
a bad thing it can

be a good thing as
well , but she'd much to learn
For now she wanted

to win, she fired
her bow and arrow and hit
a passing carp fish

All of a sudden
The carp turned into a
dragon , she jumped on

his back and both raced
through the sky towards Mr
Willow who was still

in a grumpy mood
but I could actually see
a twinkle in his

eye , he waved his long
arms in the air , Jennifer
and the dragon

had won the race , the
swans and mallards huffed and puffed
not happy with her

winning , I looked at
her and smiled , by now my big
toe was hurting me

And Deans fishing rod
was bleeping , he had caught a
carp, but oh no it

wasn't a carp it
was a dragon,  Jennifer
had forget to turn

him back into a
carp , wooo me and dean run as
fast as we could back

to van where he drove
like a maniac to dodge
the dragon who once

was a carp , as I
looked out the rear window I
could see Jennifer

giggling , she was
riding the dragon with her
bow and arrow , I

thought to myself she's
a mischievous fairy
And I just smiled wide

I got home quickly
and me and dean had salad
and a nice cold drink

Dean still can't believe
we got chased by a dragon
Maybe one day I

shall tell him about
Jennifer the fairy and
I bet he'd smile too

Just quickly wrote this I used my imagnation to make a story about my fairy called Jennifer she popped up in my mind again , was inspired at fishing trip today xxxxxx
Have a lovely week and soz if I don't get to read you all I'm getting married in 3 weeks so life is hectic xx
Lv u all take cares <3
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