Don’t get close, don’t lose hope
It’ll get better
Not on the spot, nope
But it will, one day
I’m sure you’ll win
Your life’s long, you gotta fight
It won’t be ease,
Believe me, its confessio amantis
Life isn’t all rainbows
I know, that you know that
But yours surely can be
Thunder before hail
It won’t let you win
It will break you, make you stronger
It’s a tease
Hear me, it’s a confessio amantis

©SmitFairytale
22:51
Saturday
November 5, 2016

i.

Skaidrum, we art lost in the whirlpool galaxy
Thou art far-flung from thy king, me from mine queen;
We hath not much time to get back to planet earth
A black holes in the distance, a new star's birth.

ii.

Skaidrum, friend; no sunlight is to surround us
This place is dusk, how I misseth mine sweet jane;
We hath enough food for a week, and one day's gain
If I were thou, I'd telleth thy king thou loveth him again.

iii.

Mine lass wilt be looking for me, how cold I feeleth
In this spaceship were in, I need Jane's warmth, her tint;
Skaidrum, the nebula's art all around, though no portal to get back home, I prayeth we seeith ourn love's soon.

iv.

Dear Poet, Sir Brandon, Sharpen thy tongue for war
Vigilant stars harbor no pity for separated lovers liketh us,
Lady Jane's lamentation becomes mournful gravity to thee;
Darkness swallows the four corners of mine heart.

v.

Pay no heed to the distances, death; how certainly welcome
As we rideth greek constellations, legends, and vagabonds.
I will bid thou safe travels, poetic wishes, universal footprints;
As thee descend upon the sky ladder to thou's lover.

vi.

I shall followeth in due time, I hear not mine king calling.
Patience goes hand n' hand with deliverance,
In our path of starlit misery; we embarked together as poets
Adieu for now sir Brandon, part with nightsong wings.

©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets Poetry
©Duo poem by me brandon nagley and Skaidrum
©Skaidrum

In the spectral mausoleum
Wherein the human's left me deserted;
I still wilt writeth transcendent poesy
Mine blood as the word's to be posted.

An anointed omnipresent
To luster her anticipation of mine proclivity;
She awaiteth me, behind the benevolence
As her optical's art painting's in Renoir relevance .

I revamp mine apparition
To maketh mineself to her more known;
She seeith mine black suit, unbuttoned shirt
She feeleth mine flesh, and strokes mine old bones.

All mine bad misgivings, she erases like as if at school
She's the teacher, I'm her student, though tis I breaketh rules;
Yet I do payeth attention, to this queen whoever she is
Yet thou must remember, this is all a dream, spurious wish!

Though tis just an illusion, I still hath highest Hope's
Because I'm not the other men, proudly others seeith that most;
As tis I shalt continue on, writing amour for one not around
Whoever she is, and who she might be, please release me from..

The ground................




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry