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An ash tree stands
at the place of creation
it is called Yggdrasil

A high tree
well-proportioned
the source of the dew
mother of winds

Green it is
standing over
the well of fate

Its roots draw
from the waters
that freshen that well

In old English there is a word
Treowth
it means both
tree
and truth

This tree is truth
its latticework of leaves
and branches
more intricate
than the Milky Way

It is a lung inverted
inhaling heaven's mists
exhaling the wind

It is our guardian tree
planted by a mighty race
that came before

A sentinel of hope
a goad to good works
and the last remaining sign
of a dawning
when the human mind
was first formed.

Rest now in its shade.
The final journey will soon begin.
From Norse myth. See my poem Open Boats for additional insight.  I admit to being pagan.
In many short years
we’ll know we were sweet and naive.
We’ll think about the things we thought,
our understated predictions
our dinner table conversations.
There were floaters
in our oracle’s eyes.
It will not be the now
that we know.

As what happens to us
disappears
like the sound of an engine
in the fog,
moving away.

In many short years
Auschwitz has a café.
After the tour
all the waitresses
come from the kitchen
uniformed
to sing to you
on your birthday.


In many short years
they’ll build on Chernobyl
and Fukushima will be an oasis.
There’ll be fields of bodies
fertilising strawberries
for other countries.

-

We’ve got no memory.
Horrors aren’t like happiness
they lose their impact
with every sharing
and every listen.

Will you be there?
In the next big thing.
Think of that.
How much faster everything’s destroyed
than it’s made.
Think of what work your life took

Wrong gods appear again.
As always a side will be picked for you.
As always the goals are your own.

And the answers are more questions,
homophones,
the same lessons
and still they’ll bomb playgrounds
built on bomb sites.


-

Then the next big thing.
Your entropy,
that starts and ends in fire.
The wolf
from another wood and paper town.
The flames on your monuments
and shopfronts
caught on divine wind
and a scent for sin.

Most now know
they’ve never been scared before.
Things you never thought could alight
prove you wrong.
The air stings and follows
and the clouds finally become too much for the sun.

Your heartbeat’s afterlife
is someone else’s tutting.

Unread letters,
guitars and bars with history,
family traditions
and the weight of her hand,
thumb hooked to the belt loop
of your jeans

are now one weather formation.

And under all
is flat and yellow
like an African morning.

Is it angels or great bats
which have given you
your turn?
you sprinkled stardust
everywhere you went
gave the mundane life
and life bright as a star
shone from your touch.
"where the sun smoothes the dust-dry earth"  

the summer is not poetic,  
what is there in the gold
of the sun to write about?
just the heat and the stones
washed flat.  
the signs say you can't swim.
everything has stopped.  
there is no music in the air,
the mornings shrill and hum,
the afternoons drowse with beer.
is the ocean going to wake for me?
will it dance like a flower?  
along the dust black roads
the tarmac starts to sweat.  
torn open the thundering roads,
there is no poetry in them either.  
everywhere there are green leaves
and little drops of peace in the shade.
this is old (from the book) but i thought i'd share it following a bit of a heat wave this week!
Mine Jane, mine Jane, alway's tormented by the gin that thou hast made; didst thou not remember from whence thou came. Forbearance mine love, wilt be tomorrow's praise,
If thou canst wait;
Hallow thou art,
Hold onto faith.
Take off thy
Kerchief,
Make God space,
To fill thy soul,
Wherein the pieces aren't hole;
What's worth more queen,
The world? Or
God's spiritual throne?
There is a preordained
Abode; Awaiting thee in heaven.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley( agapi mou) dedicated
Gin- biblically means a snare or a trap.
Thou- you
Hast- has.
Didst- did.
Whence- from which, from where.
forbearance- patience.
Canst- can.
Hallow- can mean to make holy, consecrated, or set apart ( I mean it as Jane your set apart and are supposed to be set apart from this world. Look up to high heavenly things ( god) not world. Your set apart! Aside from this world.
Thy- your
Kerchief+ head covering for women, piece of fabric to cover woman's head!....
Wherein- in which.
Abode- house or residence.
Thee- you.
Wilt- will.
Passed  a  neglected  garden  of  late.
It  seemed  in  quite  a ­­ sorry  state.
Some  men  came  to  make  some  notes.
But  seem­ed  to  give  it  little  thought.
Up  on  high  the  grasses  gr­ow.
Beneath  the  windows  row  by  row.
The  other  plants  just­ ­ cry  with  pain.
I  guess  we'll  never  grow  again.
They  ha­ve­  taken  up  our  space  on  the  ground
Like  an  advancing  ­army  I'll  be  bound.
They  are  taking  our  water  Oh  my.
As ­ they  journey  to  the  sky.
Perhaps  it  soon will  be  resolved.­
And  peace  will  reign.
Once again

Keith  Wilson    Windermere.  UK.  2016­.
Some revisons
i was the type not to get scared,
when i was seven, i climbed to the roof of the house,
and danced, not like a bird that could fly,
but like a chick barely just hatched,
ready to throw itself from the nest.

i used to dive into the deep end of the pool,
to sink until my lungs would burst and
i felt like there was no greater joy than living.

i hated few things except the dark
maybe because i thought of monsters,
but now i just think of death.
i despised routine and any type of
cage i could be put in,
i wanted to live as though each day
was my first and last.

when i was seventeen, i thought i found
my soul in a boy that loved everybody.
i held onto memories, like he held on
to grudges and his ex lovers.
and he never made any promises,
but i hoped i would never live to see
him become a broken one.

i fell in love with the thorns, but not the rose,
sometimes bad attention,
is worse than no attention,
i used to think i could withstand a hurricane,
but now the slightest gust can send me away,
i think painstakingly of the girl i could be,
and the girl i am, and it's been a while,
but i wish i was still as good
at sharing how i feel as i am at hiding it.
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