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Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
“Angelica arguta”,
He shows her his wildflowers
“Angelica Susannah”, he says.
And prodded further by her
His heart.
Lingers briefly with the night;
Her affection has power,
But not enough
To keep him
From marching off to fight.

Tristan, son of One Stab,
Brings wildness from the mountains.
Lovely woman from the East,
Fascinated by her,
His passion.
Revels in her bridal bower,
And stops her
Loving any other.

Alfred, eldest son of his father,
Full of rectitude and romance.
Angelica abandoned,
Adrift between the mountains
Becalmed far from the sea.
He takes advantage,
Snatches her soul with riches,
But never captures
Her longing heart.

Years pass and one son gone,
The other lost and mad.
Year of the red grass and
Happiness found
Is felt too soon.
Tristan loves young Isabel,
But Angelica is his doom.

Yet only he survives
The waves that lash her shore,
“Like water in the ice,
She breaks them.”
And in the Spring,
Is gone once more.

Angelica Susannah is buried
Above the box canyon in the meadow
Among the many dead.
Near Samuel’s heart,
The executed Isabel,
And others who follow soon.
Until only Tristan remains,
Left to hunt his nemesis,
The bear inside him.
And dream of one wife lost,
And a lover left behind:
Angelica Susannah
Beside whom he should lie.

He is slain by the bear in Sixty-three,
After forty years of solitude.
And laid to rest in the plot
Between two women he loved,
Isabel, his ingenuous wife
And Susannah, his tragic love.
Do their spirits meet at last
And wander the golden fields,
Or ride out to bathe in the hot springs,
Under the moon of the falling leaves?
This is dedicated to the characters in the film "Legends of the Fall", about three brothers who fall in love with the same woman, Susannah, and all are destroyed or nearly destroyed by their love. It is not her fault, but Tristan seems cursed, since everyone he loves either dies or is deeply hurt in some way.
loveless Jun 2016
"So how is she like?"

"Like an angel."

"And what are angels like?"

"Well it's just that when they are near you, you feel happy inside."
I feel happy inside when my angelica is near me
loveless Feb 2016
my words take shape of verses while talking to you
My muse. My elsa. She made me a poet
brandon nagley Jul 2015
i

Ireland onto greecian-land then onto the Spanish aisles
Scotland, bypassing England, than a thoroughfare of French wild
Wherein the wild-child is me and mine amare, flower's in hair

ii

Than onto Africa, wherein we canst ride the elephant back's
Gazing the scenes, to feedeth the poor and hungry, seeing past all
The great china wall, the markets of Morocco, to India's beads.

iii

Charm's shalt adapt us, as we were their own,no technology
No phones, just collections and folds, of ourn novel Romance sealed by ourn kiss, the altitude of the moon is ourn marital bliss.

©Elsa angelica dedication
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Seraphic art her ways
Displayed on heaven's fountain
Drinking wine from her lonesome cave
I shalt abide with her in her solace.

Sidereal she's in reverence toward's her white-out orb
A woman, not a girl, just passing through to explore the tour's.
Distress she weareth upon her chest, as her hope dost dwindle
I shalt shake her and taketh her, wherein mine arms a fire kindles...


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa angelica dedicated

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