.
The blink of an eye would have missed it,
a brief glimpse of pure beauty
and then it was gone.
The passing of a gloriously sublime moment.
Darkness drew its curtain around
and it was forever vanished.
Folded away and filed eternal
into the vaults of history passed.
Catalogued and captured in an instant
from within the blink of an eye.

The afternoon sun lights the mountains,
reflecting the sheen of the forest
in a riot of greens and yellows.
Bathing the vista of sight in a scene of serenity.
The air, still and warm, echoes a kind of magick,
seeking to manifest.
An event approaching with certainty
yet waiting for the correct second in time.
And the day hangs
like a cloak on a winters morn,
unmoving and timeless.
Anticipation drips from the instant,
taking its ease at the imminent
moment of intensity.
A brief glimpse of pure beauty,
and the blink of an eye would have missed it.


© Pagan Paul (21/03/18)

.

'pon your voyages through my mind
mingling with memories cruel and kind,
amongst the shattered dreams that do lay
'neath darkened clouds so distant away.
Amidst the chaos of random thoughts
strands of discord forged and sought,
chasing nightmares you must flee
the ugliness deep inside of me.
Be you close or be you far,
Please think of Me,
wherever you are.




© Pagan Paul (20/03/18)

'Neath the waves a wonder grows
with delicate hues of blue and green,
the beauty of the turquoise rose
a secret flower still and serene.

Visited only by the Siren Ula,
with a song so crystal and clean,
and the graceful Mermaid of the sea,
whom the shells all call Nerine.

But away they went to follow a dream,
and now the rose is seldom seen,
its bloom failing and aching to die,
the petals floating away to the sky,
and 'neath the waves no longer grows
the delicate beauty of the turquoise rose.


© Pagan Paul (17/03/18)

.
I thought of you the other day,
saw your face and kindly laughed.
Remembering how we used to play,
and cried at the times now passed.

The clock ticks, and tocks.
But strangely with no sound.
There is a timely silence,
now that you are not around.
My heart aches and cries,
but strangely without a tear.
There is a brutal loneliness,
now that you are not here.

Do you ever think of me,
see my face and kindly smile?
Lose yourself in my memory,
and linger on the thought awhile?


© Pagan Paul (2016)

.
I hear music.
Coming from nowhere, filling up everywhere.
A ghost of a phantom
whispers in my ear
“Let the music take you;
let the words free you”.

It waits like a shroud,
misty, comforting and open,
for my caveat-less submission.
Insistent soft etherical tendrils
take me to the source.

I feel music.
Coming from everywhere, filling up nowhere.
A voice of a Goddess
whispers in my ear
“Let the girl take you;
let the woman free you”.


© Pagan Paul  (2016)

.

I capture an image
as you flitter
through my dreams,
never resting to say hello,
never staying long enough
for me to enjoy
or appreciate your visits,
your mist like touch
as St Vitus Dance drives
you fidgeting
amongst my inner thoughts,
no care for the damage caused
nor the trails
of scented confusion,
yet wraith-like or feral ghost
your imprint leaves
traces of perfumed attention
in a tortured mind,
that linger with a hope
of a fleeting glance,
replaced with a second look,
and the tender torment
persists in the clinging grip
of pictures
sequenced to evade notice.


© Pagan Paul (05/03/18)

.

Why am I so hot,
handsome, clever, talented,
yet so very lonely?


© Pagan Paul (17/02/18)