i.

Inside the aumbry of thy rib's,
Mine verses there queen
Shalt alway's live. When
Thou doth close thine
Engineer orb's,
Knoweth this
Mine Jane;
Mine pearl.

ii.

Long agone, god choose thee,
To be mine darling from the sea;
The one who whisper's to me when I sleep,
In thy soul mine poetry speaks.

iii.

If tonight mine inhalation shalt cease
I'm not just flesh, but a spirit antique;
Mine word's hath come from the up above,
To show thee forgiveness, and Christ's own love

And don't forget queen where thou camest from
From the Almighty's hand's wherein life dost come,
Where the Angel's fly, and the mountain's hum
Past the human sun, in the third heaven.

iv.

So go to sleep Reyna, and dream of me,
One day we'll meet, O' please believe;
And when thou dost wake in the morrow
Thou shalt seest the clear amour that follows.

And smile we wilt do plenty of,
For we aren't of earth, but sky's above;
And when thou shalt see the light
I'll guide thee where there is no night.



©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedicated

You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.

I guess you've never sat at the edge of this planet just to kick stones off into the abyss.
I guess you've never loved hard enough to be the one kicked off in that abyss.
I guess love doesn't exist, only way to know, is to dive off into that abyss.
I guess you have never shared the same breath while kissing someone you loved.
I guess from here, there is no coming back.
I guess from here, its just nothing but black.
I guess one day you'll be 80 years old and look back with so much regret.
I guess your time here would have been wasted.
I guess we'll all be forgotten like the rest of the love stories that were never told.
I guess
we're
running
out
of
time...
I guess

Fairytales are stories that never finished. That was the last thing I said to you as I walked away. Our story had an ending. An ending like a car crash. Like knowing the train is coming but it felt more comforting to stay parked on those tracks. Sifting my fingers threw your hair as you looked up at the stars and I just couldn't seem to look away from you.
I smiled as you slept and we laid under the stars that night. You would soon tell me that the weekend you went out with your friends you made a huge mistake. I imagined burning buildings and sirens. You told me another man had explored your body. I imagined you inside of the burning building.
I remember the hours after like smoke filling my lungs. You pleaded your love for me and the amount of sorries said were like cutting through glass. You had told me "you're my fairytale ending!" As I walked away and imagined that burning building getting ready to collapse, I tell you, fairytales are stories that never finished.

Its a darkened room
The candle you lit
Is not a light for me
I have a memory

A lantern
If there's no oil does the fire go out?
I have no doubt
In all this doubt
I'll be left in darkness

Not a helping hand
A knife in the back
I feel you twist
You tell me that you miss me

A lantern
If theres no oil does the fire go out?
I have no doubt
In all this doubt
I have my broken hands
I'm punching walls

You aren't you
I'm not me
Never again
So why pretend?

Why now in the darkness
Can I see shadows?

.
After childhood sleep,
Of days into dawning,
Shucked of dusted clay,
Eyes set unto fawning,

Then, the rowing began.
Shy gentle waves lulling
As it does for Everyman
Who seeks loves' culling.

In a tempest of blue sky,
I was engulfed so plain,
That time was sore to eye,
All suitors never maidens.

One true love never came,
Nor to fly as birds teeming,
Now all is shipwreck of age,
Ah, but to drown dreaming.