i.

Lá breithe shona duit, from whence I came.
Birthed from thy womb, a bairn of thy soothe,
Máthair, Máthair; balm to mine wound's.

ii.

How didst thou deal with me, so needy
And in want; yet mother thou didst
Sheweth me that love is worth more
Than material stuff.

iii.

As I grew, it's thee I knew, that shewed me
Compassion existed; in a world still cruel.
Thou art mine guidestone, in heaven's
Room's, thou art the ray that glow's
Like the midnight moon.

iv.

As when the fear doth shew and come,
To thee, Máthair; I'll alway's run. It's
Thy smile that overpowers the sun,
For thou art the one; who bring's
Sunny day's.

v.

Spiritually were connected, in every way,
Emotionally we've resurrected, aloft death's
Own shade; Lá breithe shona duit, for
Another day, mayest ourn Angel's
Guide thy way, and to God we'll
Praise.


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Juna nagley birthday dedication

( Sonnet )*

What length are days so dearly trodden,
Riddled in stocks, museums of mind,
How can one soul with heart commend
And play these martial fields unkind?
We are wages cast about four corners
And spun to globe of coordinates web,
Sailing by moon, lit oceans of scorn,
Rudderless, blind— innocently led,
Yet here, one star, the sun is a beacon,
We are bathed each day in ****** light
And gifted to morn with new beginnings,
From dreams we wake with newborn sight                              
    And gods watch over with stellar eyes,
    We are babes knowing— cradled in sky.

it's the emotional
strip-tease,
the tingling,
depressions hand
on your thighs,
his skin is soothing
enough but his
nails curve red moons
into those pretty
little girl tights.
they ******* so well,
anxieties got a
mean eye,
for the girls with
insecurities,
they're the most fun,
swallowing back
their screams, saving
them for the
bedroom at night.
you find them in
the morning teasing
the pill bottle,
they got a will to live
stuck in their throat.
doctors say there's a
heartbeat but
no heart.
all their red dresses
over the floor,
the first of many
warning signs,
red dresses to funerals,
red dresses to slide
down the underbelly
of dissatisfaction.
they sleep without love,
exhaling demons on
the balcony, until
they burn like stubs
in their eyes.

seeds lie barren
on the hardpan
of a soul craving

seek absolution
on scarred knees
search for bliss
in the brief bloom
after sparse rain
believe these offerings
are not in vain

seeds lie dormant
awaiting
grace