when you wallow in the past, the past is your future
dark days behind become dark days ahead
when those ghosts become your rulers
join them, because you're already dead

~~
She rolls down the western edge
The bucolic Spiral path
Coincides with the horizon
Gray foot print
Slowly mingles with dark
As the Bats of evening find back to home

Gentle Breeze to dangle
Purple haze of Four O'clock
The Crossroads, Wait behind
Where to start, or what end is!
Poetry continuing as the falls of pain

Afternoon's Lyrics said good bye
Today's bright Star does not rise
What they chase during the run out!
Why come back again
Along with the known way!

Moonlit falls on the ways of Standing hill
Beyond the horizon
Dark fading, while
Lost love fusions with her colors
Across the Monsoon, Autumn, Winter
Finally the Spring is on the way
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Lookin' for a definition
The search engine position
It's a tricky proposition
Siri's off upon her mission

The standard answer is her stance
Has she ever been entranced
By starry eyes or moon's that dance?
Without a heart...? Not a chance

But maybe in her circuit board
There's an AI song... a chord...
In her there is some reward
Her humanity restored

Maybe in her silicon mind
There's a place where she can find
A way to let go and unwind....

No.

To her, love's truly *blind

Brown yellow rusted pages
None read
None would for ages
Lying on the pave

Blurred is the title and name
Lost dream and never born fame
Wisdom of long bearded sages
Dumped in the grave

Dusty old forgotten write
Feasted upon by termite
What to author full of sense
Fetch not any pence

Should I buy take home to read
Not treat it like just **** ****
Spend some time in smelling old
See if bring some gains?

It's not the rain
that makes my eyes wet.
It hasn't rained in forty days.
Nights are long and quiet.
The silence cuts to bone.

It wasn't rain that quenched the fire.
It hasn't rained in forty nights.
The well is dry... so am I.
Nights I sit in silence
while it rains.

r ~ 4/19/14

A stout *** soaked cigar , Apple brandy by the crackling hearth ..
My excellent hardwood rocker , whimsical memories of Elizabeth ,
warm recollections of Amanda , tireless tiny trotters indeed , forever locked away in Dads heart ..

I left myself for a brief good few hours
Whether it was the mescaline, or the quaaludes
All I know is my now wife, smelled as tropical beaches and
Fresh picked flower's.

If I ever get my feet back on the ground,
I'm going to buy me a bottle and head on in to town.
I'm going to find me a girl that treats me kind,
one that pays some attention to what's on my mind.

Dollars to donuts, we'll feel real good,
anything and everything will go down just as it should.
No more thistles and thorns, no more raging thunderstorms.
No more boot heels on the ground, no more horrendous hissing sound.

We'll bring to the table just what we've got,
we'll spend when we are able and stay home when we're not.
We'll kick up our heels to those Celtic reels,
forgetting how it feels to be scrounging our meals.

Those will be the days that we'll choose to recall,
I know this is a phase and better times will put an end to it all.
Dollars to donuts, these hard times will pass,
dollars to donuts, these hard times won't last.

i.

Duchess of the still splendor,
Southeastern wind of the faraway;
Prestige of foreign king's and Queen's,
O' fair lass on display.

ii.

I'm here mine love,
Verily, I'm not going away;
The moon must taste ourn shadow's,
As we pirouette the starry plains.

iii.

Tablet's wilt recordeth us
By ourn handprint's with
Ourn name's; the flambeau
Is warm mi amour', please
pirouette with me again.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedicated

i.

Once was lost
Now am found;
She unearthed me
She birthed me
In amour's
Shroud;

ii.

Once was blind
Though now I seeith;
She made me her own
Into her abode,
Mine soul she freeith.

iii.

Once was deaf
With nothing left;
Though I prayed
And beseeched,
For the Lord's
Dear best.

iv.

Once was dead
Though now
Alive; tis I
Foundeth heaven,
In queen Jane's eye's.



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

The willow hangs,
drapes the ground,
dances to a tune
unheard in the hum
of cars and lorries,
in the commotion of
people passing in a
hurry, barely noticing
anything more than the
phones tapped with
fingers & thumbs.
But I notice,
I see it all,
the dance on display,
the symbol of sanity
I need today.