Tarry I shalt, for ye mine dame. Whither thy nature goest; To shalt I followeth by intuition. Onuppan the van Gogh atmosphere, shalt we be interlaced, I canst sense thy trail; A grail of a holy special place. We art not physically as one at the moment, but by mine death and beyond I shalt meeteth thee. Lord, I beseech ye to maketh a way for me and mine lass, to become as one, under the sun; in these time's of slow and fast. All do I giveth to be with her heavenly father; Mine blood, mine sight, mine hearing, mine life. Mine aorta befoldeth her red pulse; I am her lord, tis she is me. As tis I shalt waiteth to toucheth, kisseth,holdeth her whilst she sleepeth. Tarry I shalt; for ye mine Jane, mine soulmate, we art one. One in the same.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)

Mother didn't hear me
Father wasn't near me
I grew
Up
At the age
Of five.
Now I give my
Ballerina
My daughter,
A much better life.
That's love.
That's what's right.

You're the sun behind the cloud, the page behind the book covers. Every part of you is sensational in every way shape and form. I trust in you like soap trusts water. If I was to jump a bridge I know you would be my wings to fly me to safety. If the world was a straight line, we would follow its every move. If the sea were a blanket we would sleep under it. If the clouds were birds we would fly into the sky. At night we would paint our name in the stars, then travel the moon and look down on earth.

Hermosa
Matahum nga;
Maganda,
beau, just a few
Of the way's I couldst sayeth
Beautiful to thee sweet jane.



©Brandon nagley
©Earl jane Nagley dedication-Filipino-rose
©Lonesome poet's poetry

a sad poem for my dinner
one gloomy for day meal
my smiles are getting thinner
dying my living will.

give me some fun write
am crying all the while
break me if you might
break me into smile.

a dark poem for my dinner
a crier for breakfast
my joys are getting thinner
sunshine is into rust.

make me one a fun read
a sparkler jolly bright
so joyous tears quickly roll
blur words from eyesight.

i.

Into her boudoir I went,
A queen, staring into her mirror;
Heavensent.

ii.

Her chamber Perfumed
With frankincense and myrrh;
All of her I yearned.

iii.

Wearing around her neck
Lapis lazuli metamorphic;
An angel, purely historic.

iv.

Garbing her seductive body
Yellow maria clara terno;
Her cat eyeliner, lit me as an inferno.

v.

Taper's were held in place
By *****'s in the wall's;
Fire sparked ourn taste's, for eachother we longed.

vi.

Now in eachother's arm's
Never to let go, or goeth away;
Ourn love's eternal, tis preordained.



©Brandon nagley
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry

i.

I thought of the former second's
Hours, day's night's;
How unaccompanied and lonesome I felt.

ii.

I remembered, even whilst being with former
Others, how I kneweth mine heart and soul for them wasn't meant; as mine prayer's to god was sent, the pain I dealt.

iii.

As tis the time was uneasy for me, knowing I couldst be in the crowd, with none to truly loveth me as I them, mine soul screaming loud; lord where is thine angel thou hath prepared?

iv.

As tis I thought last evening, through all mine sorrow's, pain's, and dreaming's. God, mine father heard me, as I wept, and slept;
How he waited for me to go through mine trial's and tribulations.

v.

As after going through prison, through cell's, through false dealer's, in real hell. I, remembered last eve', god doth not do thing's in or on mine time; the creator doth thing's in his span.

vi.

Not according to the way's nor law's of men, but to him, as whilst I layeth down happily looking at mine queen through this faraway screen, I hadst the thought, God gaveth me the answer to what I've prayed for a long whilst; he gaveth me jane, for mine health.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)

he's the saddest story i ever read,
a walking tragedy written with spilled blood of innocence
on pages of stolen youth.

he holds forgotten chapters of words
that he never got to speak, a novel that holds his painful secrets like a requiem.
he knows death intimately as his first love
and has bruised knuckles and empty hands to show for hardships.

but still, he smiles.
even when the aroma of
perfume lingers and
the ring she never got to wear still shines.