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Pagan Paul Feb 2019
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I may make a useless boyfriend,
but I do give good poem!




© Pagan Paul (18/02/19)
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Pagan Paul Feb 2019
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I have one hand on the handle of the mad sane door,
the other is scraping shards on the missing floor,
my mind dissolves away into a hurricane squall,
and my face is the mirror on a stark naked wall.

My life is a fluid flowing through images weird,
dripping through the cracks, tactile and veneered,
pouring dark thoughts into a head once cleared,
the door whispers promises of nothing to be feared.



© Pagan Paul (14/12/17)
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repost
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I will make a balloon for you...
My sister's eyes are smiling
Knowing you in all the rays of the sun
Being alive with you all the times
Giving me flight to the blue skies
with smiling jasmine flowers
with the whiteness of dandelions
and the rainbow of my sister's laughter
How people are more beautiful, there
I will make a balloon for you...
Putting on children's clothes,
We steal all the tears and smiles from them
I'm dreaming,
My sister
falling on the ground
from my father's and mother's hands
Running to her...
Cleaning the dust on her hat and dress
Taking her hands
Walking together
Finding her small hands
in the darkness of my heart, like a light
I'm crying,
Traveling, back to the past
Telling her : you don't know how much
you've grown up now!!!
A time that cannot be repeated anymore...
Friday morning,
Waking up with tears
I'm dreaming...
Siting alongside the flowers with you
I can kiss your lips for the first time
Your eyes are innocent till now, ''my God of jasmine flowers''
I love you
I love you
I love you
Giving your kind heart to God
and never leave you alone
Remembering a beautiful girl
Having black hair
in the scorching evenings of summer
wearing golden earrings
Siting on all the unhappy bicycles and
Making love to them
Not having the warmth of your eyes,''God of jasmine flower''
My mother, laughing at your hands
I love the song of birds...
I will make a balloon for you
under the shadow of the trees
which I've made my house
Somewhere that I've drawn eyes
Now, I'm seeing white clouds, round
Please, do not take pencil and paper from me...

...بادبادکی برایت خواهم ساخت
چشمان خواهرم خندیده اند
در تمام اشعه های خورشید
تو را می شناسم
در تمام زمان ها
با تو زنده خواهم بود
مرا به سوی آسمان های آبی پرواز بدهید
با گل های شاد یاسمن
با سفیدی قاصدک ها
...و رنگین کمان خنده های خواهرم
چقدر آدم ها آن جا زیباترند
...بادبادکی برای تو خواهم ساخت
لباس های کودکانه به تن می کنم
تمام اشک ها و لبخندهایشان را دزدیده ایم
خواب می بینم
خواهرم
از دست پدرومادرم
به زمین می خورد
من به سمت او دویده ام
خاک های روی کلاه و لباسش را پاک می کنم
دست هایش را گرفتم
با هم راه می رویم
دست های کوچکش مانند نور
در تاریکی قلبم پیدا می شوند
...دارم گریه می کنم
به زمان گذشته سفر کرده بودم
به او گفتم : تو نمی دانی
!!! الآن چقدر بزرگ شده ای
...زمانی که دیگر تکرار نمی شود
صبح جمعه
...با گریه از خواب می پرم
خواب می بینم
با تو در کنار گل ها نشسته ام
دیگر می توانم برای اولین بار
لب های تو را ببوسم
چشم هایت تاکنون معصوم بوده اند
'' خدای همیشه گل یاسمن من''
دوستت دارم
دوستت دارم
دوستت دارم
من قلب مهربان تو را به خدا می سپارم
و هیچوقت تنهایت نمی گذارم
دختری زیبا را به خاطر بیاور
که موهایی مشکی دارد
در عصرهای گرم تابستان
با گوشواره های طلایی در گوشش
روی تمام دوچرخه های ناراحت می نشیند
و هم آغوشی می کند
گرمای چشم های تو را ندارد
''خدای گل یاسمن''
مادرم به دست های تو می خندد
...صدای پرنده ها را دوست دارم
...بادبادکی خواهم ساخت
زیر سایه ی درختانی که خانه ام را ساخته ام
جایی که چشم ها را نقاشی کشیده ام
...دیگر ابرهای سفید را گرد می بینم
خواهش می کنم
مداد و کاغذم را از من نگیرید
Pagan Paul Feb 2019
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The future was heading its way very fast,
it pondered the alternatives.
It could gently levitate
and reveal its magickal powers.
But now was not the time.
Not quite yet.
It relaxed, in the way swords relax,
and waited for the drop,
a tune humming along its full length.
Tension just a distant memory.
Its point tipped over the edge.
It fell,
in the manner of magickal swords.
Gracefully.

The waterfall felt the ripple of enchantment
as the iron thing crested its … crest,
and failed to plummet.
That disappointed the waterfall.
It also felt the girl,
in the swirling flow on the edge,
fail to catch it before it fell.
It 'heard' the naughty words
and the scream …

… she had screamed
as she lunged for the sword
and missed,
the Poet had been unceremoniously
ejected from her pocket
and disappeared over the edge.
So Jerrica screamed.
She didn't know what else to do.

Kelm was stalking fish.
They hadn't been hiding in the river
so they must be in the trees.
He had his catapult ready
and maggots to fire at the fish.
Then he heard a scream
so he started off towards it.
He saw the girl staring in horror
and then she bolted off.
Down the side of the waterfall.
“What the hell are girls for?”
he wondered as he wandered off.
He decided to go and hector Bruce.

They had abandoned ship.
Well, jumped barrel.
And now they had gone awol.
But the author didn't care
about a couple of slap dash bit parts.
He hoped the Troll had got them.

The sword floated serenely.
Mattering not in the slightest
that the water was vertical
and flowed quicker in that direction.
Then it felt a jolt,
a ripple in its pond of calm.
It was slightly amused
as something grabbed its hilt.
And held on.
It felt the panic, it felt the relief.
Then it felt … a connection.
Something tingled along its length.

As his tiny arms clutched the sword
a wave of dread passed by,
waving at him with a sharp smile.
A wave waving in waves.
The Poet considered the images
and clutched harder
as nausea also comes in waves.
Instead he thought about physics.
How could it be he fell faster than
an iron sword?
And how was it possible
to slow descent to a mere saunter?
Most of all he asked
“What does this all over tingling feeling mean?”
A barrel plummeted by
too fast and too **** close.

Kelm was exploring
and had found the tiny bridge
upstream from the excitement
and was poking about,
as is the want of curious little boys.
Thats when he found the clay doll.
Ugly in a crude kind of way.
He wondered if dolls could swim
and attached it to his fishing rod.
He dunked it.
Like a biscuit in tea.
The result was a sticky mess
so he threw it in the river.
He made a decision and wandered off,
he was going to look for fish nests.

The Troll was confused.
He had accidentally discovered Hide and Seek.
But didn't understand the rules.
Morfine and Choklut were hiding
and he was out of ideas.
A fairly normal state of mind for a Troll.
And now his body was dissolving.
He remembered his doll familiar.
It must have got wet.
And he was fading out of the story.
“Goodbye reader. Thankyou for knowing me”
he says with a regretful voice.

The astonishing thing about light
is it stops you bumping into things.
And the sword was very light,
as the tingling pulsed through it.
It did not bump into the boulder
at the bottom of the waterfall.
Rather, it slid gently
into the middle of the large stone.



© Pagan Paul (10/02/19)
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Part 3 of 4
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