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

An early waking
For today
Remembering christs
Stone rolled
Away.
We have hope
In the new
Next day
Forever living
Beyond the grave.

unseen , only realized by those with vision,
who saw the tree grow tall, like the others
in the tribe, noticed , when it fell down, exposed
what was hidden, yes , from water soil,
from the earth , from our eyes
are things hidden, the roots
to everything often
are right under our limbs
our hard outsides, our beauty
our reaching for heaven,
our eyes but missing one part
of the picture of the mountain
or tree, or buffalo,
wolf ****
or
origin.

In the garden sweat flowed as blood. In the garden the son of man was tried. In the garden the final prayers were said. In the garden where Jesus fate was decided. In the garden the fathers will was done. In the garden, mortal failings were conquered and salvations victory won.

I am falling more in love with you O God.
I am falling upon my face to worship you.
I am falling in Line with your Word O God.
I am falling , but you shall raise me up Lord.
Because I shall refuse Pride to steal my blessings.
For Christ says the Prideful shall fall but..
The Humble shall be raise up and tis is true.
There is plenty of good reasons to fall.
Those good reasons I shall fall to worship you.
But I shall continue to pray on being protected.
From becoming prideful , I rather stay humbled.

i.

Lief O' Lief, or the gloaming,
Inly beholding; the imperium
Betwixt ourn palm's.

ii.

Beckowing song's, thro the chamber's
And corridor's; Crystal chandeliers,
Whites in the luster that Pierce.

iii.

An abatjour, bringing elan up through the floor's,
A woo for mine girl;
Mi amour', mi amour'.

iv.

We shalt accend, adamantine. Adaxial, tacent in talk;
Taction bloprined. Jerusalem's city, renewed, refined.
Inviolable Yeshua; afar off, Jesus abideth here,
readeth the sign.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Prophetic poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedication

So many things we take for granite not knowing that they can be taken away. In one moment what we thought was forever can cease to be. So treat each day as precious.

When the harvest was over,
                 grain and chaff separated,
the birds congregated
                 around the barn had flown to lands distant,
the grains even from the last of stalks
                  were sun dried and filled in granaries,
it's time to set aside all other things
                 to take up the one passionate thing.

From it's true inspiration, beauty's intoxication,
                    poetry begins it's wild run, no holds barred,
the other lives of him as a man about town,
                   lover, son, father , partner of a woman,
a singer of the soul's wanderings,
                   a seeker of truth, at last takes an ecstatic turn.

The many lives he lead, the rough riding days
                         on the road, seep in to the words he collect,
now writing poetry becomes more than a game
                         of chess, an equation that balances life and death
that allows  a peep, in to the abode of immortals.
                             poet looks at life, still a changing  apparition,
                mysterious one with an enigmatic expression
on it's face and ask,"Show me all you can,
                           it would make my day, what else one can demand?"

in my dreams i see you sometimes
i am next to you and your eyes
are not sad
they just smile the way i saw them smiling
only a few times

when i look in the mirror
i hear your voice saying there was beauty in my
smile and in my big blue eyes
i was a little girl then
and many years have gone
and you have gone with them
but
i still remember your hugs
though it feels like decades since i was last in your arms
and your voice still echoes in my brain
i remember the last time we spoke you told me
to not cry,
to be strong
and i am trying to be.
i am.

i pretend that i am.

i see you in my dreams sometimes
and i am again a 6 years old little girl
running to you
when you open the front door
and waking up realising
i will see your face no more
it's the most painful story
and i cry sometimes
but you are not here
to open any door
and i am not 6 years old any more
and there's no beauty
in  my big blue crying eyes.

you left and took away your voice,
your dancing,
your bright face
your warm arms
and your kind eyes,
i am left only with a picture
i keep inside a box
behind the front door of my heart
and i want to go back,
to be your little girl again
and i know i'll never get to tell you
that I don't want to pretend any more
and I want you to tell me
that it's okay if i am not always strong
that it's okay to cry.

in many lines i have tried to write you
but i always do it the wrong way
and it seems impossible to describe
how much i miss you
and i need you
and
how much
i love you.