the sea in ribbons,
blue lands of the tide,
surreal as summer
with her plastic suns,
her moons of smoke,
her endless rivers.

A normal man
Wilt sayeth a simple goodbye, on his deathbed;
A poetic man wilt recite
Poetry in his dying breathe's.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

If I was next to you today,
Will your heart race just like mine?
If we are apart today,
Will you cry tears of pain,
Or tears of joy?

I can never know what you are thinking.
Reading you can be such a challenge.
Some days you give me your world,
Other days you hide it from me.

I am never sure if you really love me.

WHAT AM I?

What am I?
No more than a moment of time
Suspended between the now and the future-
With the past clinging to my back
To which I could never return.

What am I?
The tiniest and frailest of leaves
On the slender bough of life
Soon to be blown away by a sudden storm-
Buried among fallen petals and flowers.

What am I?
An unknown and unheard voice
In a faraway corner of nature I have chosen
Surrounded by quiet meadows and smiling flowers
Where the incessant sound of song-birds
Hushes my small voice and consoles my heart.

What am I?
A single note on the score
Of a grand symphony-
A speck, a comma in the limitless expanse
Of time and destiny.

What am I?
Only this my heart truly knows-
It is in the dying of myself unto love
That transcends all-
To be eternal in that blissful state
Untouched neither by time nor human sorrows.