deleted for contest submission

Inly, she defines what a soulmate is. Divinely; timely she rewinds the time, so thy soul is fixed in bliss. On earth, stuck; confined in Limbo, trapped behind window's amiss.
O' to her abode; I wish.

In this beating blood holder, the beats bounce a skip, I want her grip to hold and stride; I hold inside patience, as tears hold back the time.

Erelong, ourn spirits wilt pervade, two silhouettes of a light that never Set's; a romance eternal, one that shalt not fade, romantics of poet's pages, where ourn love stretches every page, every stage of living comes with smiling faces.
Holy being's, with an undying
Age.

Sage wilt rise in secret places,
Smoke aroma; roses go unwasted.
Glory, glory, none more waiting
Stations, I'll await with patience;
As with patience
Only good
Thing's
Come.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication( agapi mou)

the sky is the colour of ceres porcelain
or an oil painting of a windy isle,
the hot sun softens,
the days easier, the clouds
are white like patches on
blue jeans, the cooler air
conjuring the blues of the
skies, mystical and haunting,
the stream’s summer greys
singing of rusty pools and
white linen, as babbling water
falls from the mountains
and rushes to breathe.
summer becomes tender,
opens her heart to the
beauty of the sky, lingers
with flashy sunlight, and
touches of brilliance to
those water-colour skies
and sends us adieus
and sweet memories
of children’s laughter
and happy, warm days.

Some memories I give her
to drown in dark water,

like an old revolver
thrown into a river,

nights spent drinking
the moon under a table

made of maple and fables
we once believed true

love lost, found
and lost again together

where only the mountains
and seas last forever.

Memories
of what I never had
lurk in the back rooms
of my mind
silver-tinged
with coolness,
their icy edges
     melting into tiny
colored fires
intensity of emotion
that becomes an endless,
                 lurching ocean  
                        with the ache
                       for the close,
                     rolling folds
of deep saline whispers
a merging of souls
without drowning
            a submerging
without getting
carried out
to raging sea
identity rescued
from certain
little death
          maintaining clarity
allowing for
the lasting wonder
of seeing through
each other's
eyes, hearts in
tune beating
                   strong
always keeping me
on the edge of
the most sumptuous,
delicious repast
that even in
the most heated
moments
will not burn us
to a mere crisp,
not destroy
yet also will not just fill
in limited surfaces
a cup half full,
a mind, half alive
Instead of shallow,
quickened afterglow
     I simply know
    what I  must have:
that deep, s lo w  d i v e
to the depths
of that aquatic
rhythmic wonder
the soft, liquid crystal
                       of reflection
that is in my core
and now,
as I send
        prayers to
           the winds
        of hope,
  yes, how
I bleed,
             for
               this heart
              needs
           so much
        more