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 Sep 2015 Tryst
brandon nagley
i.

She is mine guide
The light that shine's;
Upon the luminescence
Of the great divide.


©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley nagley dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
The great divide has different definitions though the definition I used meant the meaning - the boundary between life and death.
 Sep 2015 Tryst
brandon nagley
i.

Mine reyna, O', mine reyna
Mine vitality, O' pure vitality;
Mine being, O', sweet queen
Mine sky~flower, O', delicate skytower.

ii.

Mine all, mine muse
Mine calling, soo true;
Mine book of eternal
Mine faraway fuse.

iii.

Mine happiness
Mine comfort aura;
Mine heavenly gaze
Mine freedom, mine amaze........


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
 Sep 2015 Tryst
TigerEyes
Golden red-orange maple leaves now decorate my lawn...
and, I can always tell when the sun will rise the minute it is dawn
The rooster calls out its name from its big red barn out back
waking all the ducks and geese to run in circles making noisy quacks.

There's a creek that runs by my house, and the frogs come out at night
while the birds on top of my red barn like to take off for a flight
There will be apple pie with cinnamon baking in the stove
and, the scent of walnuts wafting through the air with a tiny bit of clove
The moon will grow bigger as the months begin to pass...
and, the children will all start complaining that their summer went too fast.
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Krisselle S. Cosgrove  September 4th, 2015
 Sep 2015 Tryst
Francie Lynch
The terrorists are winning,
The poets are leaving
Their bodies in the sand.
It's an Exodus from captivity,
And they'll wander
Looking for a home.
We need a prophet,
A staff to crack the stones
So words flow untroubled
Onto the desert floor.
A call to arms, Eliot.
 Sep 2015 Tryst
Francie Lynch
Across the road
A J-K girl,
Skipped and laughed
On her way to school.
She was strapped
To a big back-pack,
Looking like
A pink pack mule.
Behind her strove
Her drover,
Directing her to quarry
All the stones of learning.

By three o'clock
My minature mule,
A little slower
Trudged from school.
The pack was filled
With rules and tools.
She had panned
The ores of knowledge;
She'll assay them
In days to follow.

Each day my mule
Will turn the grindstone,
Crunching numbers,
Sifting fine poems.
She's mining all the hidden gems
To fill her back-pack
Once again.
Education is the best gift we can ever give our kids.
 Sep 2015 Tryst
SøułSurvivør
fade
 Sep 2015 Tryst
SøułSurvivør
into the world
of shadows
that fantastical
garden
adrift in the
night

underground
in the
ether of
haunts
the boatman
still demands
payment
and
the
river
still

flows

fade
into the other side
of midnight's

nightmare

SS 9/9/2015
Thought I'd do something Gothic :)
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