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Sailed in seas which match the heavens
wispered secrets at a sunset
and followed the trumbling stars
the ship anchored to land green and reach
an unearthly melody that filled the air.
It was not the foaming waves
not the bird's sing
nore the leaves rustling.
And so the traveller wondered in confusion
until he met a stranger sitting at the foreland.
He did not ask where he is but from
where this music comes from.
The stranger turned and spoke.
"It's Dagda's harp and Apollo's canto
both in tune with Bragi's poem.
Now i travel home for you found yours
and so i return."
Giving a chance
testing my luck
defying my dream's will
feeling like sculpting.
I think i am going to put
you in trouble for that
cup of coffee
my memories like
offerings to an altar
of old scars.
Forgive me
excuse me
for such a long talk but
i think the trembling in
my heart has stopped.
The tone in your voice was sad
our minds were gone in feelings
we could not name.
you were at once, both
cure for all that ailed
and ultimate destruction
my coffins last nail

you lived, didn't exist
in a conventional sense
when i caught you in the act
guilty of innocence

always, never
loyal and true
this can't be fixed
with duct tape
and crazy glue

all i ever needed
but so much more
until you asked me to stay
then showed me the door
.
Gold Finch on a tree,
she sings with sweet clarity,
gifting joy to me.
.


© Pagan Paul (20/12/17)
.
Gold Finches are a welcome flash of colour
in this miserable grey winter.
.
the hours rise up putting off stars and it is
dawn
into the street of the sky light walks scattering poems

on earth a candle is
extinguished     the city
wakes
with a song upon her
mouth having death in her eyes

and it is dawn
the world
goes forth to ****** dreams….

i see in the street where strong
men are digging bread
and i see the brutal faces of
people contented hideous hopeless cruel happy

and it is day,

in the mirror
i see a frail
man
dreaming
dreams
dreams in the mirror

and it
is dusk    on earth

a candle is lighted
and it is dark.
the people are in their houses
the frail man is in his bed
the city

sleeps with death upon her mouth having a song in her eyes
the hours descend,
putting on stars….

in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems
if i believe
in death be sure
of this
it is

because you have loved me,
moon and sunset
stars and flowers
gold crescendo and silver muting

of seatides
i trusted not,
                    one night
when in my fingers

drooped your shining body
when my heart
sang between your perfect
*******

darkness and beauty of stars
was on my mouth petals danced
against my eyes
and down

the singing reaches of
my soul
spoke
the green-

greeting pale-
departing irrevocable
sea
i knew thee death.

                              and when
i have offered up each fragrant
night,when all my days
shall have before a certain

face become
white
perfume
only,
          from the ashes
then
thou wilt rise and thou
wilt come to her and brush

the mischief from her eyes and fold
her
mouth the new
flower with

thy unimaginable
wings,where dwells the breath
of all persisting stars
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