"betimes" poems
This Advent moon shines cold and clear,
These Advent nights are long;
Our lamps have burned year after year,
And still their flame is strong.
"Watchman, what of the night?" we cry,
Heart-sick with hope deferred:
"No speaking signs are in the sky,"
Is still the watchman's word.
The Porter watches at the gate,
The servants watch within;
The watch is long betimes and late,
The prize is slow to win.
"Watchman, what of the night?" but still
His answer sounds the same:
"No daybreak tops the utmost hill,
Nor pale our lamps of flame."
One to another hear them speak,
The patient virgins wise:
"Surely He is not far to seek,"--
"All night we watch and rise."
"The days are evil looking back,
The coming days are dim;
Yet count we not His promise slack,
But watch and wait for Him."
One with another, soul with soul,
They kindle fire from fire:
"Friends watch us who have touched the goal."
"They urge us, come up higher."
"With them shall rest our waysore feet,
With them is built our home,
With Christ." "They sweet, but He most sweet,
Sweeter than honeycomb."
There no more parting, no more pain,
The distant ones brought near,
The lost so long are found again,
Long lost but longer dear:
Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard,
Nor heart conceived that rest,
With them our good things long deferred,
With Jesus Christ our Best.
We weep because the night is long,
We laugh, for day shall rise,
We sing a slow contented song
And knock at Paradise.
Weeping we hold Him fast Who wept
For us,--we hold Him fast;
And will not let Him go except
He bless us first or last.
Weeping we hold Him fast to-night;
We will not let Him go
Till daybreak smite our wearied sight,
And summer smite the snow:
Then figs shall bud, and dove with dove
Shall coo the livelong day;
Then He shall say, "Arise, My love,
My fair one, come away."
18k
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.
6k
1466
One of the ones that Midas touched
Who failed to touch us all
Was that confiding Prodigal
The reeling Oriole—
So drunk he disavows it
With badinage divine—
So dazzling we mistake him
For an alighting Mine—
A Pleader—a Dissembler—
An Epicure—a Thief—
Betimes an Oratorio—
An Ecstasy in chief—
The Jesuit of Orchards
He cheats as he enchants
Of an entire Attar
For his decamping wants—
The splendor of a Burmah
The Meteor of Birds,
Departing like a Pageant
Of Ballads and of Bards—
I never thought that Jason sought
For any Golden Fleece
But then I am a rural man
With thoughts that make for Peace—
But if there were a Jason,
Tradition bear with me
Behold his lost Aggrandizement
Upon the Apple Tree—
5.7k
The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.
To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.
Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honours out,
Runners whom renown outran
And the name died before the man.
So set, before its echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.
And round that early-laurelled head
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.
3.5k
To-morrow, Julia, I betimes must rise,
For some small fault to offer sacrifice:
The altar’s ready: fire to consume
The fat; breathe thou, and there’s the rich perfume.
3.3k
Away, ye muses, all away!
Away with songs of finch and fay.
Away the jaundiced sight
That magnifies the firefly’s light
To bonfire bright;
That sets ablaze at once
My musing’s dimly burning lamps;
That ornaments with rhymes
The penury-stricken looks betimes;
That over-clothes the logic – lord
With fancy –swollen words.
Away, the partial love
That ‘boldens Nature to sit above
Her Maker!
This day I fasten eyelid doors,
With absence wax my ears,
With languorous peace congeal
My tongue, my touch, my tears *
That I within may pore
Upon the things behind, ahead,
In the darkness round me spread.
I lock Dame Nature out
With all her fickle rout.
Somewhere here,
In the darkness drear,
I myself with cheer
My course will steer
In the path
E’er sought by all:
Its magnet call
I hear.
Not hear, not here,
Apollo would his burning chariot steer;
Nor Diana dare to peep
Into the sacred silence deep.
Not here, not here,
Not far or near
Can mounts or rebel waves
E’er make me full of fear;
Nor evermore
Their dreadful grandeur to adore.
Not here, not here
The soft capricious wiles of flowers;
Nor swarming storm clouds’ sweeping terror,
Dishevelling the trees
And light-haired skies;
Nor doomsday’s thunderous roar,
Dismantling earth and stars-
The cosmic beauties all to mar –
Not Nature’s murderous mutiny,
Nor man’s exploding destiny
Can touch me here.
Not here, not here:
Through mind’s strong iron bars,
Not gods or goblins, men or nature,
Without my pass dare enter.
I look behind, ahead –
On naught but darkness tread.
In wrath I strike, and set the dark ablaze
With the immortal spark of thought,
By friction-process brought
Of concentration
And distraction.
The darkness burns
With a million tongues;
And now I spy
All past, all distant things, as nigh.
I smile serene
As I expose to gaze.
In wisdom’s brilliant blaze,
All charms of the Hidden Home Unseen:
The Home of Nature’s birth,
The planets’ moulding hearth,
The factory whence all forms or fairies start,
The bards, colossal minds, and hearts,
The gods and all,
And all, and all!
Away, away
With all the lightsome lays!
Oh, now will I portray
In humble way,
And try to lisp, if only in half truths,
Of wordless charms of Thee Unseen,
To whom Dame Nature owes her nature
and her sheen.
3.1k
XVIII
Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench
Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounc’t and in his volumes taught our Lawes,
Which others at their Barr so often wrench:
To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting drawes;
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
2.8k
When the grass has sprouted and the countryside is a soft green hue
and the hills are clothed in feathery russet and gold
Remember me upon a drowsy afternoon
with the cicadas singing in hypnotic monotony
*Remember me when the milk-laden cows are lowing
for it is in such serene moments that we recall our regrets*
When the countryside is mad with life
and natural perfumes spice your safari with wild abundance
Remember me upon a dry riverbed
where once we stood upon an island happy and free
*Remember me when the milk-laden cows are lowing
for it is in calm and peace such as this that we mellow betimes*
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
i.
Betimes mine delicate, betimes,
Mine apricity wherein beauty's
Simplicity doth show it's shine;
ii.
None bourn's shalt mock
us, nor obstruct ourn journey's.
We shalt egress this wordly mess;
With Yeshua as ourn attorney.
iii.
This place shalt be halted,
The fireballs to renew with burning;
The floods to rage, mid flight we shalt take
Sight's, liberated-tear's gone
In freedom as bird's of learning.
iv.
Up into the air we go, don't frighten my girl
We've known this truth, we shalt be loosed;
Heaven's gates- a banquet of rapio plates,
Yahweh's name sealed in ourn soul's
Fate.
v.
Ourn bodies to be renewed
Gathering with spirit's, out of
Their tomb's; O' how wondrous
It wilt be mine muse, we shalt be
In tune, in harmonized music
Thither the Angel's flutes.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley ( agapi mou) dedicated
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
XXI
Cyriac, whose grandsire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced and in his volumes taught our laws,
Which others at their bar so often wrench;
Today deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intends, and what the French.
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
1.6k
Reaching out mine poetic finger's,
None to reach back.
Roaming in this passage of expiry,
quietus; how solitary tis.
Patting panels of mysteriousness,
Feel like letting go;
Though do I knoweth I shalt get through
With God, for with humanity I'm alone.
I wilt seest the peep of gleam, just
Yonder the gloaming.
At the moment dead yet living,
Though betimes I'll reach
In pure love all that's
Right and knowing.
With one to hold me
In seas of affections
Warmth, I'll be the
Light I'm meant to
Be- I shalt with
Other's share
Mine torch.
© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry.
Apr 8, 2017
Apr 8, 2017 at 12:26 PM UTC
i.
Seraphim, betimes we shalt crack this inter-web bourn, awaiteth I, tis with tear's from these eye's, though the waiting wilt purify, ourn ventricles to an unfamiliar door.
ii.
None reason for Affright, mine soul doth leadeth the way, O' amour' Jane, thine hari's here to stay. Afresh to the new day, ourn canorous spirit's pave the serenade; something lost to olden flutes.
iii.
Barefeet- None sandals, the luggage we carrieth wilt be of God, almighty; supernatural. Powerful crystalline stone- lucid, god-hand castles.
iv.
It's not against flesh and blood love, that we do wrestle, but against spiritual wickedness in high and low places, we conquer demonic armies, and nephilim faces. An ambassage we sendeth to the human races, that they mayest love another, and forgive, and to forget their past disgraces. As tis Queen Jane; alms wilt be seen on the wall's, encased with ourn names. As I wilt catcheth thee, when through the cloud's thou doth fall...
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedicated
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
My feelings are neglected, my love
was never appreciated. The care I took
did not fulfill her demands and secretly
my friends are laughing, I just know.
And there's nothing I can do to make you see
nothing to connect you with the real me.
I'll tell you what I want to say
not what you hope on hearing.
I danced with you but you forgot,
my time with you, unknowingly comforted
but my actions were betimes aborted
because you seemed a little occupied a lot.
But there was nothing I could do to make you see
nothing to connect you with the real me.
I'm telling you what I want to say
not what you're hoping on hearing.
Now accept my offer and release your yet
inner intellect, equally protect and let
me increase the amount of question marks
with complete obliviousness, it all embarks.
There was nothing I could have done to make you see
nothing to connect you with the real me.
I have told you what I wanted to say
not what you hoped on hearing.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
*Conflated afore
Twofold elation
Betimes for melancholia
Insentient erewhile
Heretofore
We love semovedly
Together nowise
Enow*
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
I met thee,on 1st of September
we glanced at each other,it was a moment to remember.
In a short time we fell in love
and we fitted,like hand in a glove.
Our passion endured for 7 months,
and love for thee,still hunts.(me)
For three months segregated we were,
thy warmth,was replaced by fur. (oh,if only)
Betimes our love paths encountered eft,
it was a swith of my heart theft.
-This time our love persevered more,
but it terminated,because it was not strong as afore.
Inevitable,our separation was
but neither of us,could find a cause. -
Time was passing,and we weren't together
Thy love slipped,as if it was a feather.
All we needed was that, true glance,
and eyes shall say 'we ought to have another chance'.
Our love blossomed once again,
i believe we are said to be insane
Sith we are soothly happy now,
i offer to love you for ever,if you allow!
*Somewhither on the sky,far away -
Picasso drew our pathway.
All along it was only one road,
we just needed to unbind the node.*
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 10:42 AM UTC
Even if for a decade that high rich man
Did not his business plough again
By leaving his many a big furrow
Of investments away to fallow;
He shall never in this life have
Any lack and want, nor shall crave
And beg he for ordinary food and meat
That his everyday portion he can duly meet,
Seeing by the almighty virtue of
His billions--a more than enough
Substance that has been tucked away for
Many years to come--succour
Of the soul there is for his family
And him: from poverty they're free.
Howbeit this other low indigent fellow,
Who does his cherished trade follow
In detail and with diligence daily--
Praying for favour divine early--
Is still like pigs wallowing in penury,
And having no house nor a Miss to marry.
Though he's a plumber that slumbers nay; thanks
Not at all to bad economy that betimes ranks
And puts him amongst the honourable poor,
Who're seeking noble relief from door to door,
Living an inclement life devoid of comforts.
Though working as a ****** yet his efforts
And daily striving are all but a waste,
An one that reckons as no pleasant taste.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 5:55 AM UTC
i.
Betimes, in the ages of shadowed black
Stripes were mine Mark's, scar's on mine back;
I cried for a rescuer, a healer of medicinal fact's
She sprinkled me with her babaylan docteretic caress.
ii.
The tincture's she Gaveth me, were godly induced
Whenever her lingo speaketh, mine heart goes loose;
As tis she knoweth, she maketh me feel better to
She's a lullaby, when I cryeth, a queen, a poem, mine muse.
iii.
Tis she's mine solace, mine palisade palace
I'm the mad hatter, as tis she's mine wonderland Alice;
She maketh men crazy, with her beautiful charm's
I loveth mine queen, the angel in mine arms.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane dedication
Aug 16, 2015
Aug 16, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
*how they indict me betimes
the things i've done
how they exalt me on occasion
the things i've done*
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
*the flier in me is not a fly in the ointment
the flier in me daily basks in ambient glory
the flier in me is a hopeful at your door
waiting to be puzzled by you, the enigma
and betimes be indulged with some attention
the flier in me glitters and sparkles truly
because you're the source of my highness
i rise into the sky and soar into the universe
propelled by the image of your birthday suit
that reminds me that that's the natural thing
to be; naked and noble like a new creation
so there i go again flapping flimsy wings
that nobody sees; feeling like old-time magic
i want to thank you prompt of my quests
i want to thank you agitator of my longing
i want to thank you lovely seer and siren
i thank you for these blossoms open in me
i thank you for teaching me to fly like a bird
straight into the shelter of your cuddly nest
where i shall be anchored in calm waters
and soon rinsed in a cascading shower of bliss
my sweet seer and siren, i promise you this:
i shall be true though my wings should melt
as did the wings of hapless ikaros the greek*
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 3:45 AM UTC
This way dear child, Christ's feet leads the way, today tis cloudy; though the morrow won't be the same. Betimes young light, thine tears shalt be dried, don't look in
Satan's mirrors, I made thee as mine
Own, a creation of what's right.
This way young woman, Christ's hand's direct the path, collecting thy droplets
In water buckets, thine soul wilt
Forever last.
This way mine kóri, none need for any frowns, I made thee for mine glory, I'm
Here in ups and downs. For when thou
Dost crieth to sleep on many night's,
I've been right there with thee, for God
Protects his own as God is light.
Close thy lids forsooth I shalt say,
Tomorrow wilt be much brighter,
When I make the darkness go
Away. The heaven's wilt
Depart, and daughter
I'll call thy name,
Never let thy
Candle smoulder,
For I shalt reignite that flame.
© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poet's poetry
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 1:31 PM UTC
Let not her radiant eyes hide withal acute tears,
Which can induce mine heart withal betimes fears,
Fears which abide withal sadness and tears...
Let not her pale pink lips fades it's priority,
Which can led mine mind withal the place where love resides,
Love which abide withal respect and care besides...
Let not her beauty be seen in a ****** mole,
As her beauty reflects in her soul,
Soul which abide withal sweetest goal...
Let not her curly hair be align withal pretty looks,
Which can induce mine love just as the romantic books,
Book where love and respect depends on how she looks...
Let not love her for the way she look,
Not for the reason she took,
Love just for the way she walks in the honesty and truth,
She's walking in beauty...
She's walking in beauty.
Mar 5, 2018
Mar 5, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
**backdrop
animated face
wandering eyes
the word lay on his tongue
naked
as all lies are
and truths too betimes**
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
Tender gardener of my life – Thee:
You tore out every clawing ****
of rooted thoughts that troubled me,
cast all aside, of them I had no need.
You nurture fresh and scented herbs
bouquet garni, green and sweet,
shelter those that wind disturbs,
tending all in clogs or naked feet.
With love, You water seeds you set,
symbols of loved ones far and near,
nurtured close - so to beget,
new life - remembrance ever dear.
Butterflies betimes alight,
birds drop in from flight
to water dip. Silk webs are spun.
Drink Thee deep the nectar of the sun.
Bask now inspired among this
garden’s joy in rainbow’s sight,
revel long in all its blossom’s bliss.
But, veil them, lest they pale by night.
Relax, rest and spend more time,
‘neath shade of this thy balcony.
Watch, where nasturniums climb,
'neath its cooling, precious canopy.
I will gift mystic seeds for thee to grow,
watch thee plant them lovingly in a row,
these our hopes: talismans of thine to me,
twinned with promises of mine, pledged unto thee.
Together: we will tend them,
watch and help them grow.
TOBIAS
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 5:08 AM UTC
We could kindle the twigs and the fallen leaves
Dry as a dead dingo's donger
And make a fire which burns for a while
But betimes would flicker and out it goes sooner or later
We could even build a house skillfully like the cassican
Sight to a sore eyes on completion
A beautiful paradise and definitely talk of the town
But talks are like baby fat they always disappear
We could write in the sand as we stand on the shore
The tale of our union but the tides will come
Or even inscribe on a rock the symbol of our love
There for years until denudation knocks
So I think it's better if we dig the ground
Not to keep the dead but to grow a life
As we sow a seed which grows for life
Come the seasons under the sun
A saviour on a sunny day
With nectariferous flowers bearing fruit with seeds
A zoar for birds and other figures of life
Green that adds to the already colourful work of art
Come let's plant a tree today on the spot
Where our hearts melted like iron in a furnace
As the smith forges what he pleases
Where we met after days spent following the treasure trail
Where we first kissed and nothing else mattered
But the wrestle of two lit tongues
Right where love found us and we found love
The clouds bearing witness
Though a howling gale may rise
Bring it down like the leaves in autumn
But there's always a contingency plan
Seeds that will sprout in spring
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 10:27 AM UTC