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 Jul 2018
Pagan Paul
Pray excuse me Lady, I do beg thy pardon,

but I saw thee walking in the lonely garden,

chestnut hair falling over a long white gown,

and sadness deep in eyes of almond brown.

Forgive mine intrusion, please take a glance,

agree to accompany me to the lovers dance,

for thy loneliness to mine open heart screams,

so take mine hand and show me thy dreams.

© Pagan Paul (16/06/18)
Lord of Green series, Poem 16.
 Jun 2018
Pagan Paul

This forest night belongs to us,
with cool air so fresh and crisp,
held hands follow the tiny lights
of the dancing Will-O'-the-Wisp.

Guiding us through sleeping trees,
along paths that wend and twist,
across glades of woodland grass
bedecked with eerie evening mist.

Leading us to a magickal place
where inhibitions take a loss,
this forest night belongs to us
'pon our bed of soft green moss.

© Pagan Paul (16/06/18)
 Nov 2017
Pagan Paul
I saw thee dancing betwixt the trees,
wearing the greenest of velvet dresses,
hair bouncing in a flow of wild wind,
cascading down in tight curled tresses.
Joyously giggling at Natures comfort,
her love surrounding thee in a cloak,
'Tis then thy truest feminine snares
caught the heart of this mighty Oak.

© Pagan Paul (25/11/17)
Lord of Green series, poem 14
 Aug 2017
Pagan Paul
My beautiful Lady, I see your scars,
deep in your eyes, hidden in stars.
Let me hold you, please come near,
I'll give you warmth, banish your fear.

You've been taken from your mother tree,
tossed in the wind, blown to me.
Let your eyes shine, show me belief,
I'll show you love, my Lady Leaf.

© Pagan Paul (31/07/17)
Lord of Green series, poem 12
 Mar 2017
Pagan Paul
I love her many faces,
they swim in my dreams eternal,
tantalising, playing, and held within,
breaking the shell to find the kernel.

The source of beauty beholden there,
brings succour to an aching heart,
chanting, singing, a pretty lullaby,
straight as an arrow, swift as a dart.

A veil of Wisdom hangs loose,
showing me the way with herbs,
aromatic, evocative, a hazy swoon,
a tranquil lake, a thrown stone disturbs.

I adore her seductive curves,
they dance in my time and space,
rhythmic, ******, and shown external,
a Wiccans kiss and a Womans grace.

© Pagan Paul (08/08/16)
Lord of Green series, poem 4
 Feb 2017
Pagan Paul
The Virginal one is a Maiden fair,
a girl adorned with long blonde hair.
Bold and brash, yet cautious and shy,
her dreams lift up and start to fly.

Raven hair falls in delicate tresses,
on the Mother of children Nature blesses.
Calm and firm, yet open and sure,
her dreams fulfilled are played out pure.

Cold and damp attack the bones,
trying to agitate the black haired Crone.
Old and steady, yet clever and wise,
her dreams forever light up the skies.

Walking through woods, warm and shady,
barefoot, confident, the Forest Lady.
She has her dreams and always will,
until the day her heart stands still.

© Pagan Paul (01/02/17)
Lord of Green series, poem 11
 Jan 2017
Pagan Paul
A moments magic excitement
of a daring plum sunset
passes into a verdant grey.
A seconds glorious heartbeat
moves on searching eternity
painting the forest dull once more.

© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
Lord of Green series, poem 10
 Jan 2017
Pagan Paul
I go by the name of Rook.
Lord of all that you can see.
I cradle and nurture my forest home,
my throne sits in the Poetree.

The canopy stretches before me,
tree tops licked in morning dew.
A finch catches my eye and winks,
greeting his Lord, then off he flew.

The sounds of Dawn, the forest awakes,
shedding sleep dust to the rising sun.
An owl calls her goodnight hoot,
disappears, rejecting the day to come.

Otters sport, play chase, by a stream
that flashes silver as light rays dance.
A Ladybird, yellow with black spots,
lands surprised, to crawl along a branch.

Clean crisp air, caressing nostrils,
invigorating life through cool beauty.
The vista of sunrise across the woods,
the source of inspiration for the Poetree.

© Pagan Paul (24/01/17)
Lord of Green series, poem 8
 Jan 2017
Pagan Paul
Mist languidly enshrouds me,
playfully floating it cuddles,
Half heard echoes of love,
ribbons of yearning so soft.

With your delicate face
in my sleep
I am dreaming with

With your heart beat
in my sleep
I am dreaming with

With your gentle voice
in my dreams

I am sleeping with


© Pagan Paul (12/01/17)
Lord of Green series, poem 9
 Dec 2016
Pagan Paul
Her charms cannot be hidden,
laying languid in soft repose,
cloaked in dreams of night,
to her secret fantasies she goes.

Doe eyes closed in star sleep,
sweet gentle breath from parted lips.
A shift of woven mist she wears,
nestling flirtatious about slim hips.

A moment stirs her silent rest,
a sigh, rises, pours and escapes.
Anticipating beauty, the inner promise,
of doe eyes when she wakes.

© Pagan Paul (26/11/16)
Lord of Green series, poem  7
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