"bringeth" poems
Here the ringing in my ear,
The distant hum of doom,
I know to avoid the stinging tail,
Of the bumblebee buzz flying in to view.
Eat the honey of the evil bug,
Who bringeth tastes divine to all,
Why must I fear the faint noise?
That surely brings only joy.
A sting it will not give,
For with its evil comes certain death,
A punishment severe,
For a cherished bumblebee dear.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 3:22 PM UTC
i.
mo chroí, do not dismay, we art not chained global slave's, as tis
We art ourn father God's chosen; we need to bringeth hope to those lost, wearied and broken.
ii.
mo bhanríon, these stanza's art ourn song's, ourn voices shalt carry on, as peach-faced lovebird's in the dawn;
iii.
a chuisle mo chroí, holdeth me closer, embrace mine visage, we must be Argus-eyed, in the coming soon explosional shock, for this terrace of dirt shalt shaketh as rock's, back to the sand- dusted, eleven-fifty-nine's on the clock;
iv.
We were created together, verily for this reason, to emit forgiveness and compassion, if even for one planetary season; also we were generated distances ago, then we were soulmates as still now- though then at that time, thou didst not know. I weaved intimately in and back out of thy soul, thine past spirit memory faded, before now I was thy king and thy whole. When we were sent to earth to taketh human form, ourn affections from kingdom's ago were forgotten and mourned, though tis mine lass when I saweth thee again, I kneweth thou were me, as tis I'm thee mine sweet, mine Jane, mine best friend. So now that I haveth thee again, back Into mine reach; we'll spend eternity with the saint's, well learn together, and we shalt teach......
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose ) dedication
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
A soul, a survivor of an emptied dark pit
We calleth the planet-globe; Certes a western
Mountain glow. She giveth all, even to those
Who cometh with hatred, she's outspoken,
Unbroken, willing and thus patient. A prophetess
Of the clandestine; her poetry as wine to relax
Men and boy's, girl's who knoweth none joy- she
Bringeth the finest of lingo. Even with her own
Worries, she let's thine head, with her comforting
Word's- relax upon thine pillow. She's verily a
Poetess of the native land's meadow's. O' soul-
Survivor, with an open heart and kindred-spirit.
Only if everyone couldst seeith thy light, they'd
All come near it.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Birthday dedicated to soul-survivor....
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
WRITTEN FOR HIS MOTHER
Dame du ciel, regents terrienne,
Emperiere des infemaux palus....
Lady of Heaven and earth, and therewithal
Crowned Empress of the nether clefts of Hell,—
I, thy poor Christian, on thy name do call,
Commending me to thee, with thee to dwell,
Albeit in nought I be commendable.
But all mine undeserving may not mar
Such mercies as thy sovereign mercies are;
Without the which (as true words testify)
No soul can reach thy Heaven so fair and far.
Even in this faith I choose to live and die.
Unto thy Son say thou that I am His,
And to me graceless make Him gracious.
Said Mary of Egypt lacked not of that bliss,
Nor yet the sorrowful clerk Theopbilus,
Whose bitter sins were set aside even thus
Though to the Fiend his bounden service was.
Oh help me, lest in vain for me should pass
(Sweet ****** that shalt have no loss thereby!)
The blessed Host and sacring of the Mass
Even in this faith I choose to live and die.
A pitiful poor woman, shrunk and old,
I am, and nothing learn'd in letter-lore.
Within my parish-cloister I behold
A painted Heaven where harps and lutes adore,
And eke an Hell whose ****** folk seethe full sore:
One bringeth fear, the other joy to me.
That joy, great Goddess, make thou mine to be,—
Thou of whom all must ask it even as I;
And that which faith desires, that let it see.
For in this faith I choose to live and die.
O excellent ****** Princess! thou didst bear
King Jesus, the most excellent comforter,
Who even of this our weakness craved a share
And for our sake stooped to us from on high,
Offering to death His young life sweet and fair.
Such as He is, Our Lord, I Him declare,
And in this faith I choose to live and die.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti, trans.
3.1k
That fella to seemingly false gods
Giveth his entire devotion, worshipping
Carved and graven images and idols
Instead of the Lord Almighty in heaven.
Even the witches in their chosen coven
And Satan himself are to God bowing.
Idolatry filleth God's heart with sorrow
Like adultery bringeth to a home woe.
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
Ah, woe is me for pleasure that is vain,
Ah, woe is me for glory that is past:
Pleasure that bringeth sorrow at the last,
Glory that at the last bringeth no gain!
So saith the sinking heart; and so again
It shall say till the mighty angel-blast
Is blown, making the sun and moon aghast,
And showering down the stars like sudden rain.
And evermore men shall go fearfully,
Bending beneath their weight of heaviness;
And ancient men shall lie down wearily,
And strong men shall rise up in weariness;
Yea, even the young shall answer sighingly,
Saying one to another: How vain it is!
2.7k
Mine lily of the valley, mine lotus of the unrestrained.
Mine Senna alata, mine allay of human angst;
Mine Kalinaw in mine Stygian juncture's,
Mine Kaulayaw aloft the extraterrestrial
Structures. Mine Paraluman that giveth me these word's to writeth, the one that bringeth me excite;
In mine core thou art invited.
Mine Kundiman by which I replay in this skull,
Mine hand of time, mine angelic mind-
That I do learn from.
Mine Makisig precious stone, undug from the clay,
Mine, all mine, I canst sayest it all day.
Mine past, present, future; woman of now, forever's our's
Mine Jane. O' how Dalisay, O' how Dalisay, doth ourn water run sparkling; Only because mine love, we sip it as queen and king. One time soon, to shareth wedded ring's, wherein the pain's of the now; art gone and unforseen.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry'
©Earl jane sardua Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedicated
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
i.
Tommorrow
O' tommorrow;
Bringeth me closer to mine love.
ii.
Tommorrow
O' tommorrow;
Telleth Jane I'll be looking from above.
iii.
Tonight
O tonight;
I prayeth to seeith mine empress in mine sleep.
iv.
Tonight
Wherein it's mine soul;
She doth keep.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
Amain I want to maneuver
Onward into her incandescent
Cloak, as the igneous smoke
That arises. Mine eye's art
Tired and crying; as I just
Want one fragment of her
Skin to feeleth. O' as a man
For I'm weak, as an extra-
mundane being mine thought's
Come out faster then mine
Word's canst speak. I wilt
Continueth not in the flesh,
For the flesh burdeneth the
Soul; though in patience
And spirit, ourn long-
Suffering shalt be made
As the finest of gold. O'
Loveliest Jane, thought
Of mine thinking's, red
In mine brain, How the
Day's and night's art
Long, though I wilt
Still continueth in
Prayer, hymns
Song. Giving
Glory for what
I do hath. In happy or
Sad, good and bad; I'll always look ahead.
To the morrow wherein mine frown wilt be laughter and the roses I shalt giveth thee wilt be of rose loving scent. O' soon mine tear's shalt be dried, and mine phantom wilt no longer be in rent.
As I giveth gratitude to ourn Potter who maketh all thing's new,
Who bringeth water, with droplet dew, who maketh bird's hath nest's, and babies hath homes, in places of peacefulness. O' if the morrow doth for some reason not arrive; I'll send thee an engravement on mount Malindang, With the ring that never
Made it to thee; and mine kisses to spell thy name.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( pookie dedication)
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 9:40 PM UTC
i.
On this Halloween children art given load's of sugary treat's,
Whilst demon's roam, spirit's unseen and unknown,
Lurk around each abode, across the street;
ii.
Whilst the innocent adolescent's art having the fun of their era
Satan bringeth down the land of the free;
Through "tradition" and terror.
iii.
Not knowing the mask's meaning, the small one's put on,
The babes weareth Satanic horn's, with cutsie adorn;
As the lamented art more than alive, just beyond the dawn.
iv.
As tis this land worship's darkness, not knowing it's own becoming; blindness cometh out on Halloween, the night of false fun and adult strange release, a night to worship the unliving, as whilst they enjoy it not knowing, whom or what they praise is the beast.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 4:28 PM UTC
A name, a name
What be in a name?
Forsooth, more than I had attended.
Montague hath borne me, yet unto Capulet tombs do I bestow myself.
This pestilence of a name, oh!
What sorrow has it brought Romeo!
Yet I do not beshrew my name this wicked Fate.
My Juliet, mine own love,
could Death have yet to claim thee?
Thine cheeks, rosy as summer
thine skin, warm as sunlight.
Could thee truly indeed be Death's paramour?
Would not it sur-prise me, for thine beauty is oft coveted.
'Twas not fault of mine nor fault of yours that hath led us to such accursed Fate;
'twas fault of our blood, flowing in hatred; marry for many a year.
Long did Montague carry coals from the lips of thine cousins, and Capulet from mine.
Alas, to reminisce does one no good.
I shall tarry not long, my love!
Bitter apothecary, thou bringeth me upward to St. Peter;
to the glimmering gates of the Promised Land where mine Juliet awaits!
...But behold how her eyes flutter; my heart stutters in reproach.
But fight can I not!
I succumb to the arms of Death.
Follow on my heels, dear Juliet.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
Mine Jane
O' mine jane;
How I canst not waiteth
To seeith thine face.
Mine Jane
O' godly jane;
Ourn bones shalt locketh
Inside, between ourn hand's.
Mine Jane
O' darling jane;
When we do meeteth
I shalt removeth thine old stain's.
Mine Jane
O' angelic jane;
Douse me in thy slaver
Showeth me that amour, thou hath written on paper.
Mine Jane
O' **** Jane;
Bringeth thine leg's closer
Maketh me beg, pull the blonde on mine head, be the chauffeur.
Mine Jane
O' goddess jane;
Throweth me down, back to the ground
Jump on me, childplay.
Mine jane
O' Filipino Jane;
Calleth mine name
I'll yet back louder, us both bursting in hott flame's.
Mine Jane
O' masterpiece jane;
No word's, hush love
Taketh me again.
Mine Jane
O' mine Filipino rose;
Who careth what other's think
The whole world already knoweth.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Bon anniversaire, brother Eddie,
Continue in fondness;
To those in hurt
And blood
Shedding.
Felix natalis, compeer in Christ,
Showeth his mercy, love,
Sacrifice.
eyd mawlid saeid, man of God,
Like the Messiah hadst died
For thee; dieth for other's,
Spread the gospel as seed.
Charoúmena genéthlia, Edward
The star, a light amongst the darkness,
The soul to those lost to death's kiss;
Teacheth who the man was who hadst
Come in the flesh, to hath his hand's
Nailed, and head crowned with thorn's;
Mocked and scorned, his heart
Didst mourn, giving up his
Holy ghost, for thou and me.
Penblwydd hapus, disciple
For Yeshua, mayest another
Year of thy birth bringeth
beatitude not curse, as
Yahweh is thine church,
As the spirit is thine weapon.
Against Satan's doubting's
And question's, against the
Lonesomeness and heaviness,
Against the sin's and burden,
Against those who know thee
Not, whom hath not loved thee,
But thee they forgot, remembereth
Dearest saint, one day thou shalt
Hath a Robe pearlescent colored
White as snow, knowing heaven
Is thine place and home. Happy
Birthday O' happy blessed birthday:
To thee man of Yeshua ha'mashiach.
Man of the creator, creation and rock,
Wherein thine foundation is built
Upon stone and not sand...
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Edward star birthday dedication
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 8:20 PM UTC
This world was not
Meant; for an angel's
Display, the angel only
Cometh, to bringeth light
In dark day's.
The angel's only
Place, is from the
Star's wherein they
Came. The angel's
Art of God, not of
The world's hate.
The angel's art the
Bringer's, the messenger's
Of life; they cometh O' they
Goeth, they leaveth by the night.
The angel's art fading
Dying in mystical wind's;
Their partially human to,
For they've indulged in
Worldly sin's.
The world was not
Meant; for an angel's
Display. For an angel
Only cometh, to giveth
Light to empty flames.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
i.
We were sewn together
To be an example;
To the ghost's lost
And forgotten.
ii.
We were made together
To be sweetened host's;
Betwixt the devil, graves,
The evil and rotten.
iii.
We were called into existence
To bringeth into remembrance;
That life, tis life
Is precious.
iv.
Once separated
As tis when ourn spirit's found fleshly bodies;
Though back together again
Peace, serenity, heavenly surrounding's.
v.
Now sewn together
Once again as aforetimes;
The same heart, brain
Soul, blood-stains,
Golden mind's.
vi.
And now until
The passing of time's;
Shalt me and mine Reyna
Spreadeth ourn wings called amour,
And fly.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
Winter...
A beautiful and glorious sight tis thee.
It bringeth the blanket of white that provides the cold and frostbite.
Beyond the Winters gaze is the one of snow.
She who knows her world is now,
Knowing the past revealed,
With the apple of Eden's Renewal.
She is like those of the Snow,
Who show favor in the cold.
They know the truth,
behind her mask of a muse.
The one of the snow is pale,
With bright eyes and hair.
Shes young in her age,
Like her brothers and sisters of this Age.
The one of the snow knows your pain,
Knows your path,
And will fight the wrath.
Winter comes from a silent slumber in the clouds,
Where the one of the snow,
Is now.
Beware the one of the snow,
For along the side.
She will summon a blizzard,
To blanket the skies....
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
Like to the bird that singeth
To woo a ***** make,
I sing; and yet it bringeth
Upon my throat an ache.
For one who cannot hear me
Is one for whom I sing:
I sing for one not near me
Of loneliness and spring.
^ ^
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 5:05 PM UTC
**Ps 1:1 ¶ Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful. {ungodly: or, wicked}
2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.
3 And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. {wither: Heb. fade}
4 ¶ The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.
5 Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.
6 For the LORD knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.**
(King James Version)
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
i.
Atop her head, she weareth a crown
Tis, once was dead;
Though now alive, I've been found.
ii.
I was buried,
Verily; in the
Ground;
iii.
I mourned
For age's;
In a coffin compound.
iv.
Though by the grace,
The mercy of mine
God;
v.
I was restored
Inside mine
Amour; once
a cadaver, now
I've entered a
Door, a door that
Bringeth life, love
and reflection. In
An upward flight;
I've been saved, by
Queen Jane's invitation.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
A hidden key
To unlock this soul
A Victorian queen
To confine mine home
An ancient lass
Druid class
Unpolished
Uncorrupted
I seeketh one to give me all
As I her
Two words
(King and queen)
To be the apple of her eye
Bringeth me back to life
Push the red soup back in mine arteries
Light the alpha and omega torch!!!!
Scorched!!!
By ones petting upon mine countenance
A cigarette of Aphroditus
A holy plus and sacred minus
A positive and negative so attractional!!!
Her long darkened locks
To zephyr across mine chiffonier
As she drenches me in cartoon weird
A delighting smear of two bodies in the swelter!!!!!
Unplugged
Raw
Unkiltered
Filthy animals in rawest mold!!!
Antediluvian souls!!!!
Her slaver
Uncustomarily
Her quiver
I tasteth as dairy
Unadulterated by man, plush by god!!!
Yet its a lost chimera
Laughing back at me
There's none that standeth at mine gate
All a whimpering dream
A fantasy of hopeless romantic!!
Why chase the treasure?
I see no chance
Still a dunce
Of high school dance
As I'll sit in the bleachers glancing the crowd!!!!
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
i.
Mine Filipino rose
Didst thou knoweth;
When thou art gone
Mine worry doth showeth.
ii.
Mine Filipino rose
Doth thou understand;
I'll waiteth for thee
Forever to be, in thine arm's and hand's.
iii.
Mine Filipino rose
Mine angelic being of glow;
Meeteth me at the show
In the kingdom of ourn endearment abode.
iv.
Mine Filipino rose
When thou art not near;
Mine stresses and mine fear's
Bringeth sorrow and tear's.
v.
Mine Filipino rose
As thou knoweth, we aren't an illusion;
We art conspicuous in ourn fusion
Forgiveth the jealous one's of their intrusion's.
Mine Filipino rose..........................
I loveth thee more, mine Reyna......
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:41 AM UTC
i.
Like a dozen saint's
Echoing in ethereal song;
The ringing of her voice
Awaketh me in the dawn.
ii.
By midday, her company bringeth calm
Her tranquility is serenity;
She's the thirst of mine tongue.
iii.
The church in the sun
Unrevealed to humanoid tradition's;
The periapt glued to mine synapse
O' how the firmament is glorified by her winged extension's.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication-filipino rose
©Lonesome Poet's Poetry
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 2:11 PM UTC
Through the amber forest,
The untempered glass,
The souls reflection shines.
Influential darkness,
Uncensored light,
Fallen sun bringeth,
Never ending night.
Through the tortured lens,
On a blank face,
Shattered soul comes forth,
Covered by fractured smiles,
And exhausted energy.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
Poetic,
Thy beak can speak words of sensual charm,
But canst thou speak of what's to cometh?
Poetic,
Thy words do flow and run,
As a waterfall, tumbling hummus!!
Poetic,
Thou canst shape lives by thy wittled crippled fingers,
Yet canst thou show thy action? Like thy hero's and singers?
Poetic,
Thou canst bringeth life to thy surroundings,or death to thy foes,
Yet wilt thou giveth all thou haveth from thy back? Or steal poor men's troves!!!
Poetic,
Thineself can waketh one to splendor,or putteth them to sleep,
But cans't thou heareth them? Rub their bones when their weak?
Poetic
Poetress
Poets
Tis I do believe!!
With thy words,
Thine self could make seeds to eternal beautitude,
Or everlasting damnation!!!!
I'm a stoic,
For mine words art mine action's!!!
Art thy own?
Poetic.....
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 3:51 PM UTC
Blessed is the man that
walketh not in the counsel of
the ungodly, nor standeth in the
way of sinners, nor sitteth in the
seat of the scornful.
2 But his delight is in the law of
the Lord; and in his law doth he
meditate day and night.
3 And he shall be like a tree
planted by the rivers of water,
that bringeth forth his furit in his
season; his leaf also shall not
wither; and whatsoever he doeth
shall prosper.
4 The ungodly are not so: but
are like the chaff which the wind
driveth away.
5 Therefore the ungodly shall
not stand in the judgment, nor
sinners in the congregation of the
righteous.
6 For the Lord knoweth the
way of the righteous: but the way
of the ungodly shall perish.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC