Our little town had gained national attention. It was all over every news paper in America.  It was then the hunters had arrived.  
Our father also wanted to help out with the hunting. My brother and I were not comfortable letting our Dad go without the silver bullet.
So we gave him the .45 caliber silver bullet for his gun.  Our dad smiled at us and asked when we had it made.  " Did old man Jonny make this for you!? "
"Yes dad! Its for the ware wolf!  Its the only thing that can **** it!"  He then looked at the bullet and saw our initials. " Johnny does fine work."
He smiled at us and took one of the bullets out of the chamber and replaced it with the silver bullet. "I'll be fine.  Its most likely a bear that's all.
"Good night kids, don't stay up to late, I'll be back soon.

The both of us fell into deep sleep for the night.  I remember dreaming of a beautiful meadow with a tree made of pink flowers.  
The pedals rained down on me and my brother.  We both wore a necklace of the silver bullet Old man Johnny had made us.  
The alarm woke us as it was time to go to school.  As we arrived there were many people standing outside.  Our friend Kevin had died.
He was 12 years old. They found him by the creek torn apart with his head severed.  The creature had done it again.
They dismissed school for the day.  My brother and I ran home to get the silver bullet. It shined ever so in any light.
It even seem to shine in the darkness.

There had been 3 murders in our small little town. All the same. As if a lion had torn them all apart.
It was early fall.  Oranges and rust colors begin to fill in the trees.  We were not allowed to go out because of the creature.  
If indeed it was a creature.  At least that's what we called it in school.  I had a theory! It was a Ware wolf.
One day my brother and I took all the silver we had.  We took it to Old man Johnny and he turned it into a silver bullet.
He was like a wizard! So finely crafted it was.  He engraved it with our initials.  S.O and D.O.  
We kept the bullet in a small little bag.  Under all of our comic books.  If one day the Ware wolf does come we will be ready.

Too soon I will need to depart from what is closest to my heart
going away from my land of Oz (Hello Poetry)at least saying goodbye for a short, maybe even long time
   Falling into the unknown rabbit hole, which might be kind of magical but I don't know yet for now comes with some uncertainty and anxiety
It is for now another chapter yet unwritten in this book called my life
Many books to be read, questions that I need to find answers for
writing poems being replaced with papers to write
Many new faces in crowded classrooms at first nameless faces, Age differences spanning many years
hope that obstacle is  not a barrier to making friends as I feel
It is good to have friends of all ages
I wish that the previously unknown faces will become my friends in class  
Test anxiety that I hope to overcome
The end of my summertime  becomes Fall
                                                                Quarter
                                                                        Way
                                                                           Too
                                                                              Soon

I remember used to be
When there was you and there was me
That was before we split the scene
Now all that's left is used to be

I remember way back when
Boys and girls now women and men
Too far too fast, the way it went
From off the cuff of way back when

I remember giveaways
And what it was that broke that day
The tears that flowed at my say
And how I regret the giveaway

Some feel safe within a name-
gipsy, sea traveller
And all that is fine

And some must be acknowledged
without going anywhere

Some are time travellers
long ago they knew

What everyone runs from
is pointless

You will find it
eventually

I used to soar high above the skies
Taking flight to anywhere in sight
Grazed upon lighting that almost killed me
My wings deigned in defeat as I bleed
But this heart are my wings of steel
Mettle armored with my will
To never giving up
And to fly again


Erennwrites

The last image I remember from my dream is the moment my eyes first see this blue sphere among the stars.
A bright blue sphere that was illuminated by a very young sun.
I make my home on the Northern frozen region of this beautiful planet.
My parents sent with me a relic, a piece of technology from our dying planet.
As I set it on the ice it builds for me a home much like the one I had before Earth.
A small region of my planet resides here in the ice.
As I walk out into the light of the young sun my body feels different.
I never grow tired of the feeling.
Any sort of soreness or pain is quickly erased by the light of this sun.
I feel as light as a feather.
The snow I stand on melts around me.
The energy pulses and emits heat waves as the sun kisses my skin.  
The last thing I do is take flight.
Over this planets oceans.
Toward her.
In just seconds I am going to see her smile as I walk on through the door at the daily planet.

I beseech one to imprison me
In her lonesome heart like mine;
To loveth and careth for me
Until the end, and beyond time.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

Two Frenchmen,
One newly retired,
One still a few years out,
In high back leather chairs
Beside an empty fire place,
Guinness & coffee & conversation
To bring closure,
And to think how to begin again....

"I'm burned out!"
Mssr. Rivere declares,
"Away with books;
Away with the horn!"
He says, and I can tell,
That he feels worn.

Is this how we come to our ends;
Spent in years and worn of halls,
Chalk and marker memories,
And the clattering of chairs....
Old opening lines, closing remarks,
Grading done and logged,
And now it's out we're turned
To walk upon the parks,
Once quicker steps now trudging
Up and down the eternal stairs?

Memories' mellowed now,
And sometimes failing;
Shall we go sadly sighing,
Or do we go out flailing?

At these crossroads,
Care-worn teachers,
Revert to old philosophy,
To faith, and to our friends...
Ancient lines to lead us
Too soon to be old men....

Must look all ways, we,
Then venture out again
To see what lies beyond
The pasts we leave behind;
Take pause this afternoon
Upon the marge
Of journeys new
We must begin.