i.

Mine Filipino rose beckoned me
Cometh up hither;
She bedecked her head
In oriental feather's.

ii.

She cut mine chain's
When once was tethered;
She entered mine brain
With sunshined weather.

iii.

Her countenance
Flew me on chariot letter's;
With romance open
Thus mine world turned better.





©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication-filipino rose

I’m no author, novelist or poet.
I’m just Me,
And don’t I know it.
I don’t need to be classified,
As long as I’m writing, I’m satisfied.

Typing out words, line by line,
I don’t care if they don’t rhyme.
I don’t care if my verses don’t scan:
I’m not always an Iambic Man.

I just say what I gotta say,
I’m not worried about any pay.
Words come to me without much bidding,
The world of its evils I hope to be ridding.

I love to spread lots and lots of Love,
Bringing peace to all like a messenger dove.
Things of beauty bring joy, John Keats rightly said,
To make us sleep easy when we go to bed.

So I’ll paint what I paint,
And sing what I sing,
Just letting those words
Do their magical thing.

Paul Butters

Courage is our strength
It b used for a noble cause

I'm really sick of being me, i'm sick of trying my hardest and never ever being good enough. I'm tired, mentally dead.