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 Mar 2016
GaryFairy
how do you get past the anger
how do you get past the rage
how do you finish the chapter
when you never turn the page

there is no happy ending
to that story in your eyes
let's go on pretending
that it's not me you despise

how do you get past the anger
how do you get past the rage
how do you finish the chapter
when you never turn the page

the words that are not spoken
are the ones that won't go away
yesterday that book was open
I am closing that book today
 Mar 2016
Medhina Khanal
Release me  from all the burden
SET ME FREEEEEEE
something lumps up in your chest and its hard to endure the pain. I just want to escape from all this...........
 Mar 2016
phil roberts
I came out of the north-west
Staggering from the storm
The surgeons had repaired my body
And my mind hung by one hinge
So I headed for the coast of Wales
To assume the healing rhythm of the sea
And breathe the briny air
Where no-one knew me
Nor called my worn out name
Sweet freedom in isolation

And so, in smiling solitude
I walked and smoked too much
Staring at the moody ocean
As we all inevitably do
As though it holds answers
And indeed it does
The answer is "being"

One hot but breezy day
I followed the coast from north to south
Not too far but far enough
Until I came upon a harbour
Tiny and insignificant
But a harbour nonetheless
With a clutch of small boats
Bobbing and swaying lazily
On the backwater slack water tide
And somewhere close by
A nautical bell tolled the rhythm
Of an endless heedless movement
And an oddly comfortable melancholy
Rocked me in it's arms
Lost and found
Beginning and end

In as much as everything matters
Though nothing matters much
This place was nothing to me
No more than countless others
But that harbour bell
So patient and so constant
Touched something deeper than knowledge
Perhaps it was the state of my health
Or the glowing heat of the day
But some vulnerable receptor
Vibrated to that gentle toll
I've been in many places in my life
And seen wondrous famous sights
All seared into my minds eye
But their memories will last no longer
Than the haunting harbour bell

                                                By Phil Roberts
Written last summer in Wales. It was the first poem I'd written for 4 or 5 years. Sorry it's so long but that's how it wrote itself :/
 Mar 2016
brandon nagley
I miss mine homie,
Who in the world's name is homie? One mayeth ask.....
Well homie
Is mine old German Shepherd.....
Dad named him that
Funny yes I know.... Long story ....
And though I haveth many Angel's here on earth......
Homie,
Was mine true pet angel....

He always watched out for me when I was around nine years old.
And when one day,
At mine birthday party...
Mine friends tried to be OK with homie,
As me and homie were soulmates friend and being wise...
So mine friend's tried to feed homie through his fence hotdogs,
Like I did with no problem...

And mine old buddy Danny found out.
Homie didn't eat hot dog's
Unless I Gaveth them to him ....
Me, his best friend and soulmate!
Fed them to him....
As I saw homie ready to rip Danny's hand off...
I just chuckled and told homie...
Down boy down...

Homie always listened...
He was mine soulmate....
My do I miss mine homie...

As I remembered one day coming home from school...
Mum picking me up from that young learning center,
She said son I got something to tell thee,
On the way home...


(Yes mum)
I said...

Well,
Homie died
I found him whilst thou was at school son...
( said mum)

I couldn't say nothing
I think I just said really?

As mum told me
He was found in his doghouse
Curled up
Dead.....

I questioned her?
Where is he mother?
Wherein did thou layeth his body mum?
I asked....

She told me she had taken him to some place about fifteen minutes away,
And buried him in some wood's....

I wasn't angry with her.
Nor even father,
I was hurt because I didint get to see his body...
I was hurt because I told mother and father all the time...
Bring him INSIDE!!!!!!
When it got cold...
As I remember it was cold
And snowing when he died........

Yes I understood homie was a big dog
And couldst be a little wild at times....
Though we had a basement
With rooms in that basement
And couldst haveth put a cage down there....

So I felt horrible I didint just bring him in
Even though they thought it was fine to stay outside
During winter......

Mum thought he was poisoned
By someone putting something in his food....
My opinion is he died alone,
When I was gone,
And froze to death....
Don't like thinking of it...
I just miss him to mine soul!!!!!!!!!
I forgive mum and dad not angry,
Just canst waiteth to see mine angel again...

R.I.P homie baby boy...
See you in heaven (:
Miss mine puppy who didint look like a puppy lol rip homie baby (): /
 Mar 2016
phil roberts
Remember when, as kids
We just ran and ran
For the sheer joy of it
For the rush of it
Dashing and racing to the next adventure
No time to waste
And energy to burn
Running and running
And never seeming to ache
Barely panting
Hardly sweating
And always ready
To run

And now I'm running to stand still

                           By Phil Roberts
 Mar 2016
brandon nagley
Mayest thy body be healed
By Jehovah's hand's
Of heaven's field's;
Wherein his tonic
Is spirit, light, and
Love.

Mayest thy ailment's
Leaveth, and thy
Sickness to
Grieveth;
From the source
Of all creation, compassion,
That cometh from above.

Mayest Yahweh's Angel's,
Around thee be vangled,
As thine husband comfort's
Thee, breathe easy in and
Out, remember by Christ's
Stripes thou were made
Free, not just from sin;
But all thing's of Satan's
Seed.

Mayest the seraph's
Be sent to thine heart,
Mayest the demon's
Depart, who feed off
The living, whom
Breed on sickly
Planning, though
Remember Mrs. Sardua;
The Almighty's word's- Fear thou not, for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley \ Mrs.Sardua dedication ( Jane's mother, Mrs sardua) prayer dedication
Vangled-or vangles is a word I made up meaning ( protective source of gods power, protecting angels of gods highest degree and healing power...)
Yahweh- another name in Hebrew for our Christian God just like Elohim, or the almighty, or great I am. Or Jehovah.
Wherein- means in which.


KJV bible-
Isaiah 41:10 - Fear thou not; for I [am] with thee: be not dismayed; for I [am] thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness....

Jane told me her mother was vomiting all. Morning and was very sick. Her mother's getting older as is her father... Any Christians out there who pray I ask you can pray for Jane's mother Mrs sardua for her sickness and vomiting to go away. Would be a nice gift for Mrs sardua especially on Easter Sunday. The day representing our Savior raising again from the grave Yeshua ha'mashiach- ( Jesus the Messiah)  raising the third day being seen by many the fourth day and even after that for fourty more days.... If you can pray for Mrs sarduas complete healing physically and healing for Jane and her families worries would be a blessing... Thank you very much.
Sincerely Brandon Cory nagley.....
 Mar 2016
ryn
Grant me forgiveness.
For my mouth had acted prematurely
and erred.
Acrid words my tongue can't retract.
My lips quiver,
pursed and scared.

Grant me relief.
For my ego had lunged.
Fueled emotions that strayed.
Sensible thoughts in mind
that my heart had betrayed.

Grant me strength and courage.
Let the next morn's sun,
illuminate the dark obstinacy of my heart.
Allow this bitter turbidity to pass.
So I could walk the hard road,
to a brand new start.
.
Sometimes words carry more venom than fangs.
And often, the path to absolution lies first, in forgiving oneself.
.
 Mar 2016
Nigel Finn
You took my hand and asked me to dance,
But I was far too tired to do so,
The simple act of walking being far beyond
My limited capabilities at that point.
I had been reduced to hugs and kisses,
And tales of how glorious my past lives had been,
And holding hands.

I wondered if I should let go- it seemed so different,
From any I'd ever held before, that hand.
For years I'd held others with the sole
Intention of drawing pain away-
I am not capable of creating happiness,
And I've never claimed otherwise.

Your hand had no pain to draw away though,
Or at least none that I could find,
Which startled me (All the others held so much!)
I had thought I knew all there was to know about hands-
Their needs, and all the varieties they come in.
How they all needed comforting in different ways
For similar ailments- grief, loneliness,
Heartbreak, being among the most common.
I'd even learnt to hold phantoms limbs for a few.
I'd move the pain aside, lessen it, or sometimes
Even take it as my own, releasing it when no-one else was looking,
Into a stone, or an abandoned old house.

But your hand simply said "I am here to be held."
It shocked me so much I didn't realise I was
Walking again. You glided gracefully ahead
As I clunked behind, unsure of myself,
Holding on to you, trying to figure you out
In the short window of opportunity I had left.

I saw it as our interlocked fingers departed.
Somewhere in the webbing between your ring
And index fingers on your left hand
Was what I had been searching for all along.
I won't go into detail about what I saw
(Our pain is no-one's business but our own),
But I saw it though, far more beautifully arranged
Than I thought was ever possible,
Noticing you had stolen some of mine
When I wasn't looking, and wondering
How much damage I had done.

I don't know whether I danced with you or not,
The release answered so much while
Explaining not quite enough.
I watched you, enraptured by the way
The pain never once showed
Through those beautiful, happy eyes,
Which never seemed to break.

Now I wonder if I had held your palm
Not too little, but far too much.
The pain I saw was labelled thus-
"Life experiences- Please don't touch
All is well. Please remain calm."
 Mar 2016
brandon nagley
Wintertime
Summertime
Spring and fall;

O' do I loveth
Her; always
Dear God.

Rain, light
Dark, night;
O' the way's
Of her plite.

Sun, star's
Moon, sun;
Verily she's
Mine chosen
One.

Destined to
Be, O'er we see;
Cherub's on harp's,
Playing fourty
String's.

Flutes, horn's,
Trumpets,
shofar blowing;
Empyrean opening,
Past sin's atoning.

Peace, comfort
Joy and hope;
Inside her arm's
Mine head's
Enveloped.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( anasa mou) dedication
Plite is a word I made up- meaning ( unearthly atmosphere, heavenly atmosphere. Heavenly aura. Either one)
There is a real word on internet called plight. But this is my own word . plite... (:::
O'er- archaic for the word over....
Harps have ones with different strings. Their usually fourty to 47 strings... Chose 40 because very significant number in the Bible and to God... As he has his way's with numbers . as the universe is based on numbers... How God set them to be..everything is perfect...
Verily meaning truly.
Shofar- a ram's-horn trumpet used by ancient Jews in religious ceremonies and as a battle signal, now sounded at Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur... What many Christians think to could be blown when Christ calls his followers up( come up hither) the rapture or catching away. Or harpazzo... Would make sense to use shofars though scripture does say trumpets... Well shofars sound like trumpets especially if being blown by angels in heaven...
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