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Cody Haag Nov 2015
With satchel in his hand, he strode down the road,
The sun glinting against his eyes as it does with glass.
Up he crept to the cave of the monster, its rank abode,
And pulled the elixir from his satchel fast.

Trembling, his hands uncorked the bottle,
And released the liquid a'splashin onto the ground below;
The potion served to mottle,
The rock soon to blow.

He leapt from the cave entrance, down toward the road,
Away from the monster's ghastly abode,
And managed to escape sudden death,
As an explosion blasted from the cave's mouth like fiery breath.

The monster wailed loud as death strangled it,
A strange, bone-chilling, awful fit.
But like the cave, the monster was now dead,
And he could head back to his cabin to sleep in his bed.
brandon nagley Nov 2015
i.

Her affection I needeth
To sustain mine living's;

ii.

Her smile I beseecheth
Which is vital to mine breathing;

iii.

Her laughter is mine medication
The herb to mine being;

iv.

Her blood everafter
Is lifeforce, is life to mine eyesight and seeing;

v.

Her loyalty meaneth the world
O' how perfect she is a woman, the image of a queen, a real girl;

vi.

Her amour' is the path on which I abode
O' mine wife, mine soulmate and life, without thee I wouldst not be whole;


©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley-Filipino rose dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry
brandon nagley Oct 2015
i.

How sprightly I am once in her company, she's all a king seeketh, she is the wealth of mine ethic's; She is mine sun rising, she is the sea's tide, coming and arriving. She is the universe in mine eye's: she is the mind in which I think, she is the rose, the petal gold, the crowned queen distinct. She is the ancient, extinct; the treasure hidden, the extraterrestrial's searcheth for one as her, she's the angelic one, arrayed in yellow ink. She hast an halo, her hand's holes art from nail's, as tis I taketh her pain: in the rain for her smile once again. She's mine lover, amour', peace, comfort, best friend. She is the beginning, not end; for there shalt never be an ending with her: for an eternity we shalt abode. She is mine all, mine calling, mine wife;
Verily she is mine Earl Jane Nagley; verily she's mine life.




©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Liam C Calhoun Sep 2015
Come Moroccan blue,
Wrought a Tokyo twilight;
The tangled neon, Guangzhou,
Ought London fog or gloom –
Entity’d ‘ever end with me.

So when gods plays jokes
Come a second near and nigh,
I’d nearly utter, “amen,”
Atop a belly, soon and son’s first cry –
I am a father; above, eternity’d grin.

So my plane kisses pavement, tepid,
Wrought one mother waiting; and
All I’d ran from, all abandoned,
Is now the only that’d welcome.
I’d never thought to nest, and yet –

Arrived, with straw in mouth.
Feeling like a reboot.
brandon nagley Aug 2015
Tis she is mine home
Yes
Tis she is mine abode.



©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
mk Jul 2015
darkness
is too often
associated
with death

darkness
brings
to me
a life
like
no other

in darkness
is my
abode
// it has consumed me //
Amitav Radiance Apr 2015
When the world will come to a halt
And words will be frozen within
Feelings halted in dark corridors
Emotions buried in piles of debris
World will be shocked to react
Humanity will be jolted to numbness
These idiosyncrasies’ will have no effect
No philosophy will be able to decipher
World will be shown the truth and futility
So much hurt, pain, wars and bloodshed
World will be scarred beyond recognition
As we hide behind political correctness
We have already marginalized humanity
From the deepest cosmic philosophies
We may have erred many times and still do
Lest we find ourselves orphaned one day
This abode will not be our shelter anymore
Left deserted, emptiness will reverberate
Opportunity lost, we have plundered it
Not much of a path is left for tired limbs
Our journey of futility and exasperation
Disconnected from the cosmic bonds
World will be a standstill, and time frozen
skyblueandblack Jan 2015
A girl once wandered along a field of flowers, feet bare
Carefree and unafraid of what she might encounter there

She knew the thorns she removed from her staunch heart
were the launching point, from the point of depart

With the promises that come with the freedom of wings
that portend magical Hope and other beautiful things.

She stopped in the midst of flowers abounding
held out her arms to soak in the sun’s rays astounding

Her head raised high, her eyes serenely closed
no more tranquil an image could have been posed.



Soon thereafter, a feather from the heavens fell
suddenly appearing, as if cast from a spell

It gently danced and glided, sought out her hand
as if searching for a place to land

A feather of the most vibrant hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

No sooner had the feather ended its flight
there followed a most ethereal sight .

It was the most exquisite bird,
and suddenly,
something within the girl’s staunch heart stirred.



On her outstretched hand, the bird gracefully landed,
peered into her soul, her attention it commanded.

Resplendent and fine, its feathers in all those dazzling hues
like the flowers; reds, yellows, greens and blues.

She could not help but caress those fine feathers,
as she stood amidst the irises and the heathers.

The bird sang a melody so sanguine and so sweet
only briefly it lingered in sorrow,
a song reminiscent of times long past,
and a subtle promise of tomorrow.



As the bird then moved to the palm of her hand
its beauty, a stunning mesmerization;
the awareness that it may soon fly away
was a sudden and terrifying realization.

She held it with care, grateful for each moment
treasuring each offering like a gift from a lover
Is your heart here to stay, she wanted to ask,
or does it belong to another?

You are not from this place, she thought to herself
You belong in paradise, your heavenly abode
Are you visiting, dear wanderer? Or lost, searching for home?
Still pursuing a path along your designated road?

How easy it would be to close that hand
hold the exquisite bird there forever..
It would sing to her every day,
A bond that would not sever.

But love is not of a forced possession
In her being, this she knew.
That vibrant light would surely dim
There would be no more vibrant hue



And so she wandered on in the field of flowers,
towards the blazing horizon of the dusking sky.
The majestic bird perched upon her open hand
as it sang the songs of days gone by.

Fear remains, along with many thoughts awoken
they set behind the fiery orange-crimson sun,
they hide behind fragile promises spoken,
and gold-gilded intentions begun.

Twilight descends, infused with the disquiet dark brings
accentuated by the stillness of night..
‘but the morning brings strength to her restless wings*’
and Hope, emerges with the Light.
“Behind the blood-stained curtains of Love,
there are fields of flowers where lovers wander...
To wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart.”
~ Rumi
http://skyblueandblack.com/2014/04/09/wanderers-in-a-field-of-flowers/
*Jackson Browne
skyblueandblack Oct 2014
Within this solitude,
I have grown in ways I never knew possible.
I have delved deeper into the caverns
of each chamber
of this sacred abode
we call the Heart,
and discovered there is no end..
It is a perpetually incessant journey.

I continue to swim,
propelled through this bloodstream, ~ this heart’s dream..
my tears becoming one with the ocean
within the vessel that carries me forth.

Guided by a gentle hand, the inward immersion continues..
It is dark.. warm..
it envelopes me.
I cannot see .. rather I feel,
moving by the sight of faith.

There is safety in this sanctuary,
the guiding hand a cord,
the darkness a soothing, protective womb.
I inhale deeply –
as I hear the voice whisper:
everything is allegory
      pain is a sculptor (it keeps us upright)
         love is a painter (his brush divinely guided)
            lust is a cello… (but what good is an instrument without a song to sing?)
and I am ecstatically transported to Tagore:
I have spent my days stringing and unstringing my instrument
while the song I came to sing remains unsung
.”

I exhale cathartically –
Releasing..

It seems an eternity between the inhale ~ and the exhale..
a lifetime between each breath.
Rebecca Scull Aug 2014
Why don't you look at me?

Why don't you see all the things that I see?

Why is all this unclear to you but not to me?

Why don't you look at me?

Why don't you feel the things that I felt?

Why haven't you held the burden's I've held?

why won't you look at me
why do you ignore the tears I do cry
why do you chase after time I cannot bide

why won't you look at me?
why won't you look at the face you've painted?

Aren't you proud of your work?

Changing my world's gravitation into your world's,
so you are the sole center of my universe

Aren't you happy with how I hurt?

Making me feel as though I am not real,
not really my own abode

Why won't you look at me?
*Aren't you *happy with your work?
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