Alone, the dark is power
Though the brightness is stronger
It pulls me into its grasping hand's.

i.

Aloof, alamoth shalt be as caffoy
To the effulgence; betwixt the
Stretched out firmament.

None more dacryop's; for
Euphoria is permanent.

           ii.
        
            Multicolored adamant to be ourn walking step's,
            None ado; an ambassage of love so true, apace
            When airborne-balm of soothe.

                                         iii.

                                           Cheek to cheek, Rosy blush
                                           ****. Top-to-feet, robed by
                                           Heat; from white sustaining
                                           Spirit.

iv.

Mine lady, closer-feeleth me. Graze mine inner
Being. Touch mine blood that sing's; when thou
Art close. No longer art we the norm, we're now
Perfected from the storm's.

v.

Surmounting through those once
Infernal
Ghost's.

vi.

O' now we art untouched, protected
Alongside high-rank Host's;
Beauty is the most enlightening,
Being seen through thine
Glorious view.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( pookie) dedication

Cold as the morning
cold as my blue heart
we don't have
to hold something
to feel its absence
to know its significance
we are drawn for reasons
beyond our limited sense
of time and space.

Each moment is
a turning point
we get to choose
whether to anchor in
isolation's safe harbor
or tell stagnant fear
to *******
we'd rather live
exposed and free

fill every cell
until brimming over
with all the love
that is destined
to flow our way
even the kind
that defies description
will forever be
the singularity.

We are alive
the ink is still drying
on this page
there are choruses
yet to be sung
love is
open
come in
out of the cold.

I beg you
don't leave the sky

when dark clouds billow in the south
the weary winged hurry home

overhead on the dead blue
jupiter and venus are born anew

the wind slows to silence
trees loom night's shadowy ghost

nocturnal birds sing on their new day
you feel your breath as they fall

the clouds spread across the sky
cracked by the lightning

a drop lands on your stretched palm
soothes all the burns in you

you melt in love
by the torrents falling from above.

don't leave for shelter
I beg you
when heaven arrives here.

I forgot when I
Plucked you
From the rose bush
You had thorns

The blood dripping
From my heart
Reminded me
You still hurt

Weeping turtles
On angels' wings
Electric harps
And choir sings
Traveling time
Remembering
As an era
Comes to close

French chabot
In fruited hues
Revving engines
With horses used
Nothing that
Compares 2 U
And songs
We'll never know

From pain
Was born a troubadour
Pushing limits
Breaking doors
Supernova
Evermore
Songs with
Silent lines

A legend lost
Within the mist
Of mewling souls
Interminus
Taking time
To reminisce
The party ends
In nines

Here the pines blush
in the cloud's embrace
the sky comes low
falls for earth's face

the winds kiss
long lines of wood
fog weaves dense
peace of solitude

Here the curves
meanders blind
on magical turns
stumbles mind

all inner demons
the high lands slay
on angel's wings
you fall love's prey.

Oconee's throwing reflections at Dusk
Heavenly Monarch orange fields with -
Dove and Wood Duck silhouettes
Autumn , cool dreamscapes christened by -
the Evening Star , shadow boat anglers and -
lamp lit docks
The smoky breath of lakeside cabins
Intrinsic , moonlight interpretations -
over the piedmont treetops
The clap of olive turbid water against her granite -
embankments , voices echo over watery nighttime
level , schools of shad decorate and skim the surface
Carolina blue bows to ebony star filled October night
Dark plains teeming with starlight imagination

When I was a younger man
Time moved so much quicker
There was always something happening
Always something changing
Somewhere to go
Something to catch up with
Or even to escape from
People came and went
Then came and went again
"Where's he living these days?"
"Who knows what's happening?"

Now things are quieter and calmer
In this age of ghosts
In the land of the lost and lonely
Where once there was speed
There's nowhere to go
And nothing much changes
Even my dreams remain the same
As, with an unaccustomed patience
I write poems
And wait

                              By Phil Roberts

just a leaf left
on the pillow next to me
now, a whisper of smoke
vapor tracing your path

out the door
going back to the
limb I stole you from,
the place you must return

I rake my bed for more,
try to make
a place
for you to fall

again, next time.