tranquility and stars,
the earth gives way,
the drowning
of the dark,
your love-cries in
your sleep,
tender and then harsh
beneath a blanket
of dream.

Something bigger than I am,
those shoulders over mine
and faster than I can be,
cannibalizing time,
it's not sad,
I'm not sad...

Someway it's worth one's while
seizing bubbles from reverie
and in between no crime,
starving now and then
I'm not dying,
it's not dying

What comes by nature grows,
poignant embrace to abide by.
To sharpen up a stem to a lilac rose
leaves bewildered but crucially alive
it's just my thought...
I'm just in a thought

But first I am
real and here
on my own to venture onward.

Alow her open pinion's
I glanced aloft mine
View;

Her nimbus was lit
And around her Lip's:
Heaven's color's
Renewed.

O' the strap's from mine feet
Were removed, as I fell
Back in awe and
Wonder.

I remember the day
I saw her face, the innocence
Of God, the beauty and
Splendor.

Into her tropical gates
I entered yonder;

She gave me her love
As tis her love I took shelter.

Mine darling, mine lass; O'
Best friend, mine helper;

What wouldst I do, without
Thee mine Muse;

What wouldst I do;
O' what wouldst I
Do.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Sardua nagley dedicated( agapi mou)

Its you and the Universe
at one, my dear
I brought you here with promises of love
led you into a desert
so you could be all mine and I all yours my love
the Moon and the Sun and all the stars shine for us.
Blue sky fields of green and the sea all speak of love
and in your silence and solitude all is consummated
promises fulfilled in the most beautiful of ways, my love.

apples lost
to early rot
first blush of red
on mottled skin
a sallow death
sure as sin

crow of night
crowns the branch
boldly pecks
a hole so wide
plucks the worm
from inside

i.

light in lazy pools
patches of shadow
like closing doors.

ii.

i float
like a ghost
open the sky
like a love letter.

iii.

a bird hovers,
shudders to
a sky that
unwraps its
dreams like
inky pools.

iv.

greyer than ghosts
that kiss for my
lips,
that trembling
of my heart
just for you.

Druid is Derwydd
in our tongue
the Welsh of my fathers

Our land is called Cymru
and we have thrived here
since ancient times

We live by our cattle
first
our hearts and families
second
and our crops a poor third

We are taught that
a mist descended on our land
in the before times
and cleansed the earth of life

And that a new people came
our people
and brought with them
cattle
all of the trades
and a gift for song

We were called Celts
but now we are proudly
Welsh
the dragon is our badge
and red war our way of life

The Derwydd
are our guides
they follow the stars
know the mystic tides
teach our young
and ease our old
into the afterworld

Never cross a Druid
they say
or feel your tongue
curl into burnt leather
in your mouth

Please a Druid
and luck will
lay by your side

I am called Caedmon
wise warrior
son of Lhur
born in the shade
of a great oak

I was taught all of the high arts
poetry
music
and war

If ever you travel
through our fortress-locked land
you will be welcome
at my hearth

Come
bring your sweet pipes
and play
bare your sword arm
and raid with us

When we return
cattle rich
then the feast will begin
then the bards will sing
and poetry will open your mind
to the harmonies of heaven.

We are explosive.
Two sticks of dynamite waiting for the match.
Just one whisper of a spark and we'll go,
Dying to impersonate the stars
Like fireworks in the night.

Fire, you and I
But different, if you know where to look.

Flames of summer
You are wild and destructive,
Spreading yourself too thin
Like wildfires in the drought
Roaring challenges at the sun.
But in the cricket-filled cool nights,
Bringing comfort and memories to the young at heart
Taming yourself for a time beneath stars that bear my sign
Burning out in the darkness before sunrise
Ready to return at first spark.

Pyre of winter,
Tamed by the frost and wind
Leaning on hearths for strength
Keeping vigil in the long night
Raging against dark and dusk and death
Yearning for what was lost in the fall
Waiting for the rebirth of spring
Sending up grey prayers to stars that bear your sign

Fire, you and I.
Born to stars of flame
Raging, roaring, writhing
At the whim of the wind
Waiting
For the spark.

the etching of
reflection in a china bowl
full of water,
our love
uncovering tiny silver
stars on the horizon.

i.

my nettles sting,
my mind dreams
of ghosts,
nothing seems
to settle
under that hovering
sky of wire.

ii.

lost to a broken civilization
in a sky of sighs
caves filled with
ice.

iii.

further than the sky,
further than the sea.

iv.

dreams like drowning
pools

the waving wind
the castles of the mind.


v.

shadows
unwinding
the slow pulse of
the earth,
like the battling
waves,
like the far, far
dream of a star.

Rejoice at Morning’s Miracle,
For We are here again.
The Grim Reaper
Has let us live another day.

God’s Grandeur shines upon us
As, again, the clichéd golden sun
Pokes her head through the Eastern clouds.

An orchestra of chiming birds
Greets the day
As again I say
Rejoice!
I repeat: Rejoice.

Time to check the temperature outside
And scatter some wild birdseed.
Time for breakfast
And the early news.

Time to have a pub-lunch,
Then a game of tennis
Or table tennis
Or snooker.

Morning’s time to meet my Muse,
And listen to her lyrical tunes.
To get composing,
No more dozing:
Broadcasting words
Throughout The Milky Way.

Enjoying the day
I look forward to
Some cloudless skies
So I can sit
And watch the stars.

Paul Butters