The  first  signs  of  autumn
are  appearing  this  morning.

The­  sky  is  a  paler  blue
with  ominous  dark  clouds  all  aroun­d.

The  birds  are  much  quieter  too.
although  I  did  hear  ­a  pair  of  mallard  ducks  crying  out.

The fleeting sun across the lawn
Is quite pleasant

The  Invasion  of  house  flies
seem  to  have  subside­d.


Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK.  2016.

Take the words
out from my mouth
please chew them well,
don't spit them out
Swallow them
deep into your throat
let them circulate,
let them float
into your mind,
into your heart
with my words
         inside you,
we'll never part
        and if
the time comes
that you should speak
in sharp punctuation
across my cheek
know that I might,
for a second,
hold my tongue
before it unfurls
   and becomes undone
it might lash out
in a burning sting
from the shock of
             the lexicon
that fervor brings
but then rage will
melt upon our lips
in satin threads
                 of fire
that burn their tips
and no temporary storm
will declare our pain
in language sacred,
and then
               profane
I'd rather bind
my lips to yours
let the waves rise up
           on speech's shores
let the tides of
forgiveness
spill out in phrases
as the moon whispers
bliss in hidden phases
and we'll forget our
periods and commas
and grammatical structures
as polished vernacular
      turns to animal lustre
as we slide to the floor
verbal cannons unfired,
                             unheard
finally at
     a loss for
             words

I don't want kisses on the lips.
Kiss my forehead instead.
I don't want movie dates
I want walks in the rain.
I want nights on the couch
Curled up with you.
Reading poetry
And drinking tea.

ever burning, eternal flame,
you have taken my finite skies.
the embers leave only a name
for this vessel that holds no eyes.

forever fire, you're to blame!
heaven has fallen from its rise,
and given ground chance to reclaim
the life stolen by my demise!

never shall I lose the shame
of not ever exchanging goodbyes
with my only love, the dead dame
that my eternal flames despised.

Alow her open pinion's
I glanced aloft mine
View;

Her nimbus was lit
And around her Lip's:
Heaven's color's
Renewed.

O' the strap's from mine feet
Were removed, as I fell
Back in awe and
Wonder.

I remember the day
I saw her face, the innocence
Of God, the beauty and
Splendor.

Into her tropical gates
I entered yonder;

She gave me her love
As tis her love I took shelter.

Mine darling, mine lass; O'
Best friend, mine helper;

What wouldst I do, without
Thee mine Muse;

What wouldst I do;
O' what wouldst I
Do.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Sardua nagley dedicated( agapi mou)