.
She sits for most of the time,
in a metal chair with wheels.
Counting out the value of life
with an injury that never heals.

She waits for most of the time,
to confirm that she is really there.
But how many people notice her
sat down in her wheel-chair.

She's invisible for most of the time,
she is there but nobody spies.
So she spreads her tiny wings
and floats unnoticed to the skies.

She cried for most of the time,
always alone and lonely in a crowd.
Now flying free her spirit rises,
there's no discrimination in the clouds.


© Pagan Paul (25/12/16)

.
I nfinite
S tars
I nfinite
S pace

Her lithe and arched body
protecting her child. Earth.
Holding hands with her sister,
the twin Goddesses of Truth.
Her name stolen by the liars,
Her glory tarnished with the blood
of the innocent and brave.
So, who's voice will be Her hero?
Her modern lover. Champion.
Her contemporary pharaoh?

© Pagan Paul (13/06/16)

.
Here I stand at the abyss
waiting for that very first kiss.
My heart beats, then it skips
as I bend to touch your lips.

Here I rock at lovers doom
scenting your bodies sweet perfume.
My head spins, then it slips
as you reach and kiss my lips.

Here I fall at my great risk
but now, only we exist.
My heart hums, then it sings
as your lips pull the strings.

Here I lie in lovers bliss
having now that very first kiss.
My head explodes, then flies free,
I'm so pleased that you kissed me.



© Pagan Paul (Dec 2016)

.
An Echo* asks “where have you been?”
and my reply is heart and truth.

I have thought of you for centuries,
I have conceived of you for millennia,
Patiently building you for aeons,
and I have died for you every second.

For I sit frozen in my cave of sorrow,
wrapped in a blanket of burning ice.
Constructing you in my waiting dreams,
a raging fire in the coldest of prisons.

That is where I have always been,
where I am, and will forever be.
Until the hour you step beyond fear
and the moment you look at me.


© Pagan Paul (16/12/16)

.
You who would direct my dreams
to a salacious and lustful cause.
Infusing my thoughts
with the dark and twisted games you play.
You who would pull my strings
and throw me in to a puppets dance.
Being your marionette
I'm a toy for distraction, a novel pretty.
I know you; I feel you;
My phantom of romance.
.
You who prowls my nights with ***
to leave me cold, sad and unfulfilled.
Discarding my carcass
with the disdainful and pitying looks you give.
You who would chain me to you,
lock me up and throw the keys.
Being your prisoner
I'm a nightly diversion, a nocturnal visit.
I know you; I feel you;
My phantom of romance.


© Pagan Paul (20/06/2016)