i.

I thank thee Almighty, for the pulchritude of the blue,
Thou hath rendered me with a woman, a gentle darling
Of Asia's moon.

ii.

I thank thee O' father, for the firmament child, thou hast
Been merciful to me, with a queen of coastline wild's;
As I buss her in only sleep, I looketh forward to ourn coming,
Knowing one day we shalt walk hand in hand-
Face to face, glory stunning.

iii.

I thank thee O' Theos, omnipotent upon thy throne, to praise do I giveth thee, engineer of flesh and bone; thou hast made mine bed in heaven, and on Earth Jane mine abode, thou hast given me an offering, a soulmate to mine soul, How more than satisfied I am-
To calleth her mine sweet, O' Yahweh do I setteth mine life down upon thy feet.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedicated

I am hungry
and it is reflected
in the contours
of every inch
                  of skin
every cell a-flutter
tiny wings and heartbeats
activated within
right down to
the ribosomes and
kidney-shaped
mitochondria
right up through epidermis
woven as threads
of softness penetrating
your inner hard, dark parts
causing them
to melt into
                my light
I am craving
to feel your
absolute heart's
raging core
my aching flesh burning,
my heart, wrapped in
a love
              so pure
My need to be
devoured surfaces
in smoothness,
at a glance
You feel it acutely,
no room for doubt
or subtle chance
               I am ravenous
for muscle-worked arms
(arms that could easily
try to break)
to be supremely
gentle as you part
my thighs like the ocean
and sacredly partake
the slickness of your tongue
in my feminine grace
the stains of my love
drenching
                your noble face
your eyes on mine
as I sharply breathe
         need to hold your
head stroke your
           hair know that for me              
the king takes off that
garland of gold
breaking free of
all symbols of status
the only real treasure
the queen who
gives to him,
and who he now pleasures
     and I let myself be consumed
with the reverence
of a psalm
my love pouring into you
healing your hurts,
               like a balm
in this private landscape
we are the most
ferocious of tender
estuaries
in an eternal vista
in this hour of somewhere,
the sea hauls us in
like ancient creatures,
     bringing the fossils
back to life
in lustrous foam
as they
         inch their way
into the spirals
    that we
feel we could
call
     home‎

Two abandoned swings . . .
that said ,
that be between
the moon's shadows ,
are only shadow thin
as close as skin on skin
Just swing and swing holding hands
Holding moonlight's shadowed twin

digital availability
   around the clock
after a while
begins to feel like
permanent responsibility

your friends expect you
to be online all the time
    whether you like it or not
so they can share with you their daily trivia
of personal condition, discount shopping, their dog’s health,
the children’s good, their problems with their partners,
etcetera etcetera

I know it’s nice to hit a button
and hear the ringing of the other’s phone
the voice responding to your call

it’s fine when there are no alternatives

and yet

somehow the electronic chat
confirms more than redeems
presence of absence of the person

I feel like talking to an avatar
a disembodied voice
that has a virtual existence
yet whose life in the real world
still needs to be asserted
by meeting – and talking –
in a café
or simply on the street