onion rings
quiet dietary
expedience when
a malt
seed there
quench a
skeleton of
hire in
their superfluous
attire that
bench let
a saucer
dream with
a production
scheme track
that this
orient desire

a lawyer's
batch in
a brief
if hiring
direly break
trepidation that
equality *****
when a
state of
confusion interrupts
rights to
a genuine
occupy of
love where
intent only
makes mark
in society

In Seville

My lock is like a wheel
that treasures the land
with strands of sand now an inroad to soul
in times of grain this platitude of health ahead of tides

the salt on shore implores unfinished deeds
as art deplores any nurturing of needs
with stars out this race beyond the chariot again

and proves that this orient has rightly won a gathering if seed roaring in a stream of catchment nigh
where these overtones are songs
and round about the fields along the Guadalquivir.

I dreamed I was a butterfly.
(Or butterfly was me.)
I fluttered by the golden sky,
The mountaintops, the sea.

I felt the warmth, the sweet caress,
The gentle breeze of love.
I knew there was no hell below,
No heaven up above.

I spread my wings and let it go,
Forgetful of the past.
I dreamed I was a butterfly.
I fluttered – free at last.

I drifted on the salty waves,
Beset by melting ice…
Amid long years and short days
I freely cast my dice.

My dreams came true, and all at once
The evil was no more…
I let it wash all over me,
And then – I crashed ashore.

Anon, reborn, I dreamed again.
(Or butterfly dreamed on.)
My whole existence – pure as Zen,
Unique as a black swan.

The shards, dispersed along the way,
I gathered – one by one.
The kintsugi of life I made
Was brighter than the sun.

The silent flapping of my wings,
Akin to sands of time,
Sustained a galaxy of springs –
Both mortal and divine.

I ambled on, both dry and drowsed…
The point of no return –
I felt at home… When I aroused,
A better world was born.

My dream, however short it was,
Is now a part of me.
Now, conscious of a grander cause,
I flutter by so free.

i.

Orient Rubie's
Dark and silky smooth;
**** glass dancing the reflection's.



©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication