Conflation groweth between ourn sinews
We shalt row upon the island's with canoe's;
The eyelet's aloft us shalt sprinkle celestial powder
We're long away from civilization, dusk hour's.

Fondu pupil's, art the culture to that moment
Her hug's, like gods cloak, encases me with a bonus;
Snug Creation's forgetting the cares around them
The only thing's we thinkest of, art the love's blend.

Justice run's through ourn courtship
As the scales art finely balanced;
None ogre's to looketh over ourn shoulder's
Ourn closeness, keepeth them silenced.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane dedication

I did run at the holy land
Simply a place of no fun
So I'm back here again, to be heated by the sun

Your wild blue eyes
A mystery to me,
Haunt me in my dreams,
I never want to leave
Taunt me as they glisten,
Shine and reflect the light
I get lost in moving tides
Like swimming in the sea at night
Why do I feel so alone
When I look into your soul?
Maybe there's more to discover
In your lonesome uncharted waters
Anything you share with me
I'd be gentle, I wouldn't chide
I can't help but notice the depths
When I look into your eyes

Reyna;

If I dieth in the fire
Tuck me in Corinthian attire;

If mine lung's, shalt faileth and succumb
To the pitch black dusk, wherein their is no sun.

Reyna;

If mine eye's rolleth back
Put oriental pennies on them, to floateth down thy river.

If mine brawn doth frail
Be sure to giveth away mine treasure's.

Giveth charity to the poor man
Underneath I/75 bridge.

Mine spirit shalt be watching over thee
And ourn abode of bliss.

Reyna;

Just in case the morn doth not make it
I just wanted to telleth thee, thou art mine queen, and mine basis.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication

I want to tell them that
I miss them
when they aren't here

I want to cry
I want to laugh
with them

I want to be there
when they need me
and I hope they'll be there too
when I need them

Home to rinse my knuckles, wipe at the oil spots on the counter, warm up canned beans and hot sauce.  Powdered milk in my coffee

navy through the window.  Everywhere scraps of life restricted – slime mold on the litter under the porch, the earwig who still can’t find her way out of the sink.