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He scoops sands in baskets

then balancing neatly on the shoulder
carries to where needed
through bone breaking hours.

Upon his footprints is there a name
or a home
where he goes back for the night
lands featherlight kiss on a woman
awakes her sleepy bones with her hands
forgetting his days sinking in the sands.
Agápi mou, how I dote thee mine
baby of potentate vision's; thou
art the foregone one of stringed
song's, that young lover's seeketh
To hath. Atop the thysiastery of
Ourn affection, I shalt layeth
Ourn all mine amour, near
The pearly gates, I'll meet
Thee at the door. The entry-
Way wherein only select few
Shalt pass, the liquid water there hath
Life, none hopelessness nor any bad; just garden's of
Succulent features, history's apostles there to be ourn new
Teachers, wherein the pictures art surreal, what's thine is mine, and what's mine is thine; feeling paradise complete us in lively field's.


©Brandon Nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane sardua Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedicated
Agápi mou- my love in greek.
potentate- a monarch or ruler, king....
Thou- you
Art- are
Foregone- past
Hath- have.
thysiastery- sacrificial alter.
Ourn- our.
Thee- you.
Wherein- in which.
Thine- yours.
Dote- be extremely fond of.

Also out this in speaking form on SoundCloud if wanna hear it here instead of  here or both ... look up brandon Nagley on SoundCloud will find this poem thank you.
And for you who know my prophetic dreams I've been writing about alot on here I posted them on my YouTube account just look up brandon Nagley. You will find my two fireball dreams and what's coming that matches thousands of other people. I have two vids on YouTube two parts meaning two vids *** couldn't finish in one video  . If seek to know truth and what's coming to this planet very soon suggest you look up my dreams on YouTube  my fireball dreams you'll find.two by me part one and two thanks for reading... brandon Nagley
Till waist deep I stand
in the middle of the river
where the eloquent music flows.
I scoop some of its melody
with my bare soft hands,
its clarity makes me shiver
like dancing notes sun glows
and nature sings a brilliant parody
for me to smile and understand.
The smell of wood polish;
sprayed unevenly on the counter top,
brought you back to life.
Back down from heaven and earth into my mind,
where you had evaded me for the longest time.
An aroma of you.
My Great Grandma.
The Greatest Grandma,
I smelt that wood polish and your memory came alive again.
For one final time.
I closed my eyes,
I was a child,
and it was almost like
you came back to life.
From youth, not unlike the love
I received from my family, I surmised,
that extended love might be everywhere.
With artless, open arms and heart,
I embraced this simple notion.
In time, sadly this childish wish
was honed to a hard truth by maturation.

Friends and loves come
and go, fleeting in heart,
and committed soul.
Unreliably, flowing in and ebbing out,
like deep undulations of an ocean,
all too often with sneaker waves
that pull us under. Breakers pushing
our ship onto the rocks, in a sea
of shallow unfulfilled expectations.
Encounters becoming disappointment,
with too many frogs kissed.

My educated suspicion is,
beyond our family of blood kin,
Faithful canine love is the only
other "truly committed devotion"
we are likely to get.

In the end, that may well be enough.
Perspective wisdom can be a bitter lesson.
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