#peasant
The ritual after work
in the dark at the end
of the evening twilight
The dim light of the low clouds
in 1883, when the nights in the country
were still black
The farmer stoops
poking a dry smell
from the weeds of the day
It lingers
in a plume of smoke
above the sparks
Nov 29, 2023
Nov 29, 2023 at 3:47 AM UTC
Savor these hard times,
Cherish every drop,
For one day they'll be
far past and behind.
Joy is warm and sweet,
Anger burns the tongue,
Sadness makes its case,
Dressed in smoky char.
Let the others eat
portions meant for kings;
I am far too well
With the bits I find.
May 16, 2022
May 16, 2022 at 1:09 PM UTC
Once
Big, big as ever if
big as ever is as
if
you imagine ever was happening
before you,
ever was
begun for you to be alive in
time
after time, you think, you remember,
or did you recall
the sense of it all
once, small.
--
still small
voice
always saying this is good
this is the way,
ya'll come.
--
none came.
no flock forms, money does not grow
faith, nor faith, money,
funny,
it seems we should have known.
having been in the biz,
at the very bottom,
on the streets
pushing hope.
-- do you know who Jesus is?
--- yeah, he loves losers, like you
-- right, that's him,
say hi, tell 'im I sent ya.
I be gwan on downd'road, to'n'fro
findese fellers fallen by the wayside,
so I poke 'm
point'em to the middle way and laugh
at them
until they
run away, one way road reality,
like evolving ideas
passing through
revolving doors
beyond the ken, the know, the knowledge
beyond the pale, the palisade,
the wall, the brink,
the edge of if.
Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 7:20 PM UTC
Some days I'm the dragon,
Others I'm the knight.
But most days I'm the peasant girl in the darkness searching for light.
-t.s.
Mar 10, 2020
Mar 10, 2020 at 11:13 PM UTC
She's queen of the desert,
peasant of the land
At night when the wolf howls,
she'd be Mother of Nile
At times when the heat kills
She fought for the light
A warrior in darkness, the
hope of the man
Her strength is as fiery
As the madman's eyes
that the Concord dictates
she's the beast immortal
Nobody thought to challenge
her reign, nor tried
to understand how
her plans were made
But everyone envies
to the core of their hearts
Some even sided
with devils' betrayal
Everyone wonders how
she got her Crown
Who made it possible
her defeating these odds
Nobody knew she's but
a slave in the wars
the one that smells,
with the bruises and the scars
No one knew her pirate
woes. The solitude
and the silent crows
But those moorish
Nights that saw it all
They took the pain, the screams
The fall
The academe & politicos
knew her too
Asked why'd she disappear
too far, too soon?
What's curious is that
she didn't know at
all, the lives she lived
had made her whole
It was probably fate or God
or faith, but she lives
the lives of her
seven tales
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC
They said
Demand an explanation for barns in the second person
I said
Let me show you where the hay is.
The big red barn
the color of my heart
when i look at you,
Baby.
I am just a country boy,
a Frenso FarmBoy- I am but a humble peasant
to yuor Highness.
But I love you, regardles of everything.
When I was younger I dreamt of
a cornfield to call my own.
Now, I only dreem
of your eyes.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 12:53 AM UTC
exceedingly onerous
appreciably disparaged
carls extant
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 7:33 AM UTC
I saw a picture of peace, in a simple kitchen
scene, hair in dark ringlets a face of middle
age, and eyes as deep as wells.
A humble home, a woman of peasant stock. A
glance so dull, yet deep in cost, in this I saw
peace in trade a life of cost, for this single
scene.
What price those eyes, what price such depth?
A simple scene, a lifetime made. One
glance and then, it’s gone.
By Jason Cain.
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 8:15 AM UTC
Facebook makes me want to *****
Spew chunks of fake houses
perfect spouses
So many poses
perfect smiles and staircases
tout it.
Adorn rose-colored glasses
as you watch the egregious *****
boast champagne in their glasses
as they fool masses.
What does it matter the square footage
if you can’t teach your children how to solve problems?
Or start movements?
Or have values?
I’d rather wear hand-me-downs and have roots
than don Versace and walk in rich boots.
When the day ends, as you are lounging in your satin linens
do you ask yourself how you grew today?
How you moved today?
How you flew today?
Well I am…
So get out of my way.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 8:00 PM UTC
Peasants underestimate,
the sacrifice of a King,
all they see,
are the fancy things.
*griping,
and
groaning,*
when in actuality,
they are more free,
then he ever,
will be.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 1:28 PM UTC
ı.
Oňċє ѧ pєѧsѧňţ
Noɰ ѧ ҡıňɢ;
Bєċѧusє sһє һѧţһ ʟєţ mє
Iňţo һєя Ԁяєѧm's.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl jane nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
Peasant clothes and peasant shoes,
Hardly bathed and poorly used.
Resting in coal and eating curds,
All she had left were her learned words.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC