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 Aug 25 unnamed
 Aug 25 unnamed
What is it about the moon
That I miss so much
Hiding in the corners
Of the sky
Peeking between
the shrubbery of the clouds
It's no use, bright thing
I still see you
 Aug 25 unnamed
 Aug 25 unnamed
I broke my walls down for you

but then you reminded me

why I built them so high
 Aug 25 unnamed
Pagan Paul
When a Dryad cries …

… the bright red leaves
and the tree stands
in a pool
of blood

… forest green leaves
and the tree stands
in a pond
of heartbreak

… red and green leaves
and the tree stands
in a lake
of sorrow

There is no sadder song
than when a tree dies,
there is no deeper grief
than when a Dryad cries.

© Pagan Paul (01/07/18)
Old poem re-written
Dryad - A Tree Nymph/Sprite
 Jul 28 unnamed
Pagan Paul
My love and I went out a'walking,
that is when we both ceased talking.
Loving, being free and alone together
despite the rain and inclement weather.
Yes the rain fair soaked us through
but it felt just like a shower for two.
All of this along with chirping birds
the moment we stopped using words.

© Pagan Paul (17/07/19)
The girl is a girl
Only like the moon to earth
The oasis to dunes
Breeze to the tropics
Love to the desolate
Warmth to the shadows
music to the lost
path to the journeyman
Fingers to the hair
Lips to the want
All of this and some more
The girl is my girl...
 Oct 2018 unnamed
Pagan Paul
Like a watermark through crisp white vellum
a face appears through the veil of dreams,
to colour wash away a montage of image
and decorate a mosaic of sleep dust seams.

As halcyon lakes waterfall into prism nebulae
and the courtesan face evades its emotions,
inevitably slipping between the chasms of space
like golden dolphins through plasmic oceans.

© Pagan Paul (01/09/17)
Old poem, rewrite. PPx
What can I hold of you?

Of a fleeing cloud ‬
making good its escape ‬
‪from its wanton lodgings ‬
‪in the sea looking to empty itself  ‬
‪and in the sky seeking closure ‬

‪Of a lightning cowering‬
‪in its fleeting existence‬
‪waiting to be consoled and told, ‬
‪it’s magically alive‬
‪as a sliver of hope in the dark ‬

‪Of the bountiful waves ‬
‪retreating every time ‬
‪with a handful of sand,‬
‪clutching on to the earth ‬
‪it has made a promise of return‬

‪Of the godly Sun ‬
‪drowning in the horizon ‬
‪every day in a Spartan death‬
‪to see the moon rise ‬
‪and bask in its borrowed love‬

‪Of a cursed fate ‬
‪mooring me to the abyss‬
‪refusing to unchain me, ‬
‪to feel what it is to sail in waters ‬
‪which treasure the idea of you‬

‪What do I hold of you?
She's this insatiable urge
gaining on me,
like a herd of horses
galloping in the treachery of the wild,
their muscles brushed to a shine
rippling down their calves
to embrace the ground
beneath their ironed hooves
shaking it up, tormenting its calm,
whipping up tremors
that know no chains and travel far.

When she's around
dust and sweat break free
with muscles aching in symphony
the heart is all worked up
like a boiler room in heat
pummeling all of its adrenaline
in one fleeting indulgence
which the universe with all its hatcheries
is itching to contain
before the raging tides in
and floods my world.

She's the elusive horizon
used to passionate chases
and the sly azure lunging at it
for one sweet glimpse of the cleavage where it conjoins with the earth
looking for Elysium that never is.
Ah! But that is what it is
for the tamed to think of love
is an impossibility
for it grows in the wild
separated by a hundred chasms
and a million mazes
waiting for a fool to cross over.

When she isn't around
the rumpled sheets tell our story
for it has seen the storms
that raged in the cavernous nights
and filled up balmy noons
with the savagery of love
still crackling like embers of fire
which have seen better days,
and, light up still, with a death wish
to tell of our smouldering lives
that thrived in spasms of our last breath.
If any little word of mine
may make some heart the lighter,
If any simple song of mine
may make some life the brighter,
God, let me speak that little word
and take my bit of singing.
Then plant it in some desolate vale
to keep the echoes ringing...
Her thoughts and I,
we stay awake
waiting for someone,
hoping for somethings
for the heart in pain
needs no tending
just a pinch of the divine
and that silver lining.

I think of the moments
we gently stole
from the curious eyes
of tired souls
our driving the distance
to escape our own
and finding the universe
in our palms, unfold.

There in the coffee shop
she stares at me
from the helpless tea bag
in scalding water.
In the bottle she would get
to quench her thirst
I find her asking if
my need's greater than hers.

The empty seat of car,
in front
is taken in her absence
by her memories warm
The gear shaft
without our fingers twined
is stripped bare
of our naked thoughts

The rains when they come,
they flood my heart
for a stormy noon
is still parked within
when the highway was lost
behind a sheet of rain
and in lights all turned on,
our tongues were mating.

Her breath is all over
this gluttony of a glass
half filled with wine,
half consumed by need
Now, the dam opens,
blood rising to the lips
flooding me with her thoughts
she can never read...
Where do you find love?
In the absence of your love...
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