#missing-her
i.
As she's in the land of Nod,
rustling azaleas in her
ancestral awe. She don's
the ensemble for the next
morrow.
ii.
Her body like a cradle
Rocks back and forth
As a swaddling babe;
She's musing of ourn
Meeting, and it's
Patient way's.
iii.
Tis I as well who see-
saw's in mine bed,
Pretending she is
Next to me, swaying
the thread's, peeping
out mine window,
Awaiting her wake;
Counting down the
Hour's, to seeith
Mine Angel's
Face.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou dedication)
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 2:36 PM UTC
ɨ.
Sɛaʀċɦɛtɦ ʍɨռɛ ɨռtɛʀɨօʀ O' ʍɨɢɦtʏ ċʀɛatօʀ
Mɨռɛ ʍaʟaɖʏ ċօʍɛtɦ օռ stʀօռɢ;
Wɦɛռ tɦɛ sʊռsɛt ɦast ċօʍɛtɦ aռɖ ɢօռɛ
Mɨռɛ ʊռċtɨօռ ɨs ռօt ċʟօsɛ, tɨs I ռɛɛɖɛtɦ ɦɛʀ tɦɛ ʍօst.
ɨɨ.
Mɨռɛ ҡɨɖռɛʏ's aʀt racked աɨtɦ քaɨռ
Tɦɛ ʀɛɖ ʄʀօʍ tɦɨs tɦʀօat քօʊʀs օʋɛʀ aɢaɨռ;
I ռɛɛɖɛtɦ ʍɨռɛ ʟօʋɛʀ, ʍɨռɛ զʊɛɛռ,
Mɨռɛ օռʟʏ, ʍɨռɛ ɦօքɛ, ʍɨռɛ աatċɦɛʀ aռɖ ɖʀɛaʍ.
ɨɨɨ.
O' ʟօʀɖ, ʍaռ ɦatɦ ɮɛɛռ tօ ɮʊsʏ աɨtɦ ʍatɛʀɨaʟ ʟɨʋɨռɢ
Pʟɛasɛ ҡɛɛքɛtɦ ʍɛ ɮʀɛatɦɨռɢ aռɖ aʟɨʋɛ, tօ ɦɛʀ ʍɨռɛ sօʊʟ I'ʍ ɢɨʋɨռɢ; sɦɛ I ɢɨʋɛtɦ ʍɨռɛ ɮօռɛs, ʋɛɨռ's, aռɖ tɦaռҡsɢɨʋɨռɢ.
Tօ ɦɛʀ I աaɨtɛtɦ ʊքօռ O' aʀċɦɨtɛċt, ʍɨռɛ աaɨtɨռɢ ɨs քaɨռɨռɢ.
ɨʋ.
Caռst I sɛɛɨtɦ ɦɛʀ sօօռ ʄatɦɛʀ, I ɢɨʋɛtɦ tɦɛɛ aʟʟ I ɦast
Mɨռɛ ɖʀօք's օʄ ɮʟօօɖ, ɨռsɨɖɛ tɦʏ ɦօʟʏ ċʊք, ʝʊst tօ sɛɛɨtɦ ʍɨռɛ ***
I'ʍ aռɢʊɨsɦɛɖ, ʄaʍɨshed, ռօt ɦɛaʀɨռɢ ʍɨռɛ ċɦɛʀʊɮ's ɢօɖɖɛss ʋօɨċɛ
I ɢɨʋɛtɦ ʍɛ, tօ sɛɛɨth ʍɨռɛ զʊɛɛռ, ɛʋɛռ ɮʏ ʍɨռɛ ɖɛatɦ, I'ʟʟ ҡɨss ɦɛʀ ʍօɨst.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
i.
Tis mine everything is leaving
Tis she's leaving for a day;
Though just a day, mine soul shalt leaveth
And shalt return unto the grave.
ii.
Until she returneth
Mine spirit shalt be departed;
She's the one keeping me alive
She's mine angel of the creator's garden.
iii.
Tis it may sound funny
Because tis just one day;
The fact is I canst not breathe
When mine earl Jane nagley is away.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC