.
The wind moaned out loud

"oh my ****** back hurts."

© Pagan Paul (18/01/18)

.
Once upon a time
my quill danced across your skin
as raindrops on a blade of grass.
The ink spilled like tears,
words formed around your beauty
tracing the curves of a Goddess.

Once upon a time
my heart flirted with your love
as bees above a flower head.
The feelings poured like honey,
caresses formed around your beauty
crying and caring for a Woman.

Once upon a time
my body moved with your body
as waves on a lonely beach.
The pleasure flowed like water,
tides formed around your beauty
ebbing the moans of a Lover.

Once upon a time...


© Pagan Paul (2017)

.
When the feelings run and hide
and when there is nothing left inside.
I cannot even begin to disguise
the fact that I have cemetery eyes.

An empty shell, a carcass, a husk,
autonomic movement from dawn to dusk.
I will not allow my emotions to rise
and bring back life to my cemetery eyes.

There are words I just cannot repeat,
questions and probing, an enforced retreat.
The shutters fall, there is no compromise,
nobody sees behind my cemetery eyes.


© Pagan Paul (2018)

.
And so; Zeus condemned Sisyphus
'to Tartarus thou shalt henceforth go.
Thou hast cheated death now twice,
not thrice shalt thou escape below.

And so; Sisyphus again descended
passed Hades and on further down,
eternally pushing a boulder up a hill
from the base up to the crown.

And so; for eternity did Sisyphus
employ muscle, sweat and pain,
to gain the summit with heavy stone
which rolled slowly back down again.


© Pagan Paul (2018)

.
My mind works in mysterious ways,
sometimes a haze, and clear some days,
with words and images is constantly plays,
to create an art that will delight and craze,
seeking inspiration for the perfect phrase
and win a place in your heart always.


© Pagan Paul (01/01/18)

.
When you pinned the daisy to my lapel
you said 'that is where the fairies dwell',
and this special gift from you to me
was because you loved me beautifully.


© Pagan Paul (03/01/18)

.
The conquest notch on the heart,
a symbol of success and achievement.
But another year closer to the grave
reflects the sadness of old bereavement.
The love of life has long driven passed,
a life of love into the darkness been cast.
The symbol has slipped so far away,
the notch has healed and had its day.
So now the heart is as cold solid stone,
and I climb the stairs to bed alone.

© Pagan Paul (01/01/18)