Whispers of yesterday
Soulful eyes in a frame
Forever loved

When we break
our walls.
Even if we
stumble and fall.
To dare and to live.
To take and to give.
To share and to care.
To feel this love everywhere.
More emotions you can bear.
Do we have the capacity.
To live our life just as
much as we wanted to be.
I wonder sometimes.
If all our dreams will
turn into reality.
Or maybe we stay.
Forever in the delay.

The willow hangs,
drapes the ground,
dances to a tune
unheard in the hum
of cars and lorries,
in the commotion of
people passing in a
hurry, barely noticing
anything more than the
phones tapped with
fingers & thumbs.
But I notice,
I see it all,
the dance on display,
the symbol of sanity
I need today.

i.

Hallow thou art, mine
sacrosanct wayfarer;
Sacred heart, raiment
Of January's start,
Thou art the
Beginning
Of spring
And summer's sunshined arise in full-bloomed mesmerize.
The firth of thee, circulates inside of me.
O' Asian delicacy- thou art that righteous tree of
Life. For thine way's art insight's, ******* to the human thought, for thine countenance canst not be store bought. O' thy intelligence canst not be door taught. Destined Jane, O' foreordained, I knewest thee, thou knewest me, in bygone land's.

©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)

i.

What occupies thy soul and being? Worldly knowledge, book's, gold, material thing's; Diamond's, jewelry, ring's, automobile's, weapon's that ****, Poison's that we put into ourn spiritual bodies.

ii.

Where is thy heart? Into plastic, stuck in a casket, pulling apart?
Art thou striving to a life of just surviving, or actually living life;
What cometh first? God, family, friend's, or earthly trend's?

iii.

Whom doth thou serve? The thought's of the devil? The grave and the shovel? Art thou on another level? Or dying to get rich; Living as a slave? Choked in a cave? Giving all, as all the lord gaveth thee.

iv.

What doth thou fearest? Mankind? With bomb's that shineth, and gun's to smoketh? Or thy creator whom hold's the key to life and death, art thou like all the rest laying thy treasure on men's step's? Or in Jehovah's kingdom? The great architect's ringing the doorbell at thy being; ding ****...... Ding ****... Ring. Ring!!!!

Wilt thou let him in?
Or serve the world and men?




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry