A dream that waketh,
  Bubble that breaketh,
Song whose burden sigheth,
  A passing breath,
  Smoke that vanisheth,--
Such is life that dieth.

  A flower that fadeth,
  Fruit the tree sheddeth,
Trackless bird that flieth,
  Summer time brief,
  Falling of the leaf,--
Such is life that dieth.

  A scent exhaling,
  Snow waters failing,
Morning dew that drieth,
  A windy blast,
  Lengthening shadows cast,--
Such is life that dieth.

  A scanty measure,
  Rust-eaten treasure,
Spending that nought buyeth,
  Moth on the wing,
  Toil unprofiting,--
Such is life that dieth.

  Morrow by morrow
  Sorrow breeds sorrow,
For this my song sigheth;
  From day to night
  We lapse out of sight,--
Such is life that dieth.

That time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self that seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourished by.
    This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,
    To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

The deaf blacksmith
Rendered in silent iron the wagon wheels
that they now walked behind
with ever larger ruts
that would eventually hold the whole village.
It’s the shabbes of comfort
When “the rugged shall be made level,
And the rough places a plain;….and all flesh shall see it together….”
He never heard the one that hit him
Hearing wouldn’t have helped they say,
“all the flesh shall see it together”
And all did that hot day, thick with mosquitoes and flies
And a pestilence of lead.
The winds blow through the fallow fields
Tearing at the roots of the waving grass
Though grass is stronger than the winds that whip it
And the many blades hold firm defiantly
We shall not be moved again!
*“all flesh is grass
And all the goodliness thereof is
As the flower of the field;
The grass withereth, the flower fadeth;
Because the breath of the Lord bloweth upon it---
Surely the people is grass.”

The sweet tryst of your love has had its end
Which fadeth through the dawn, it coexists
The keen affection descends like a trend--
You slowly, but surely, have to desist.

The sickness spreads, continues to rescind
A whirlwind of sentiment takes it's place
Your mind undergoes sins of rue chagrin
Your life, just a sad blur, will end it's pace

Will you tell yourself it was all a lie?
Or will you own up to fabrication?
Your goal in life was to personify,
To move man with simple revelation

In your last breathe, you find the true meaning
To live as king, and to die demeaning

As the hurt of other's shalt fadeth away,
                     The poetry of one's soul, always doth stay...
And whilst the hurt one shalt soon forget,
                     Poetry shalt be a best friend, a spiritual bliss....




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry

Vanity of vanities! a persuit of wind,
What profit hath a man in his toil!
All is vanity! Life and death rewind
Dust thou art, and thou return to soil.
All flesh is as grass—Isaiah 40: 6
As the flowers of the field fadeth;
So was Abel's wither within six verses!
Flowers fadeth, likewise grass withereth!
We brought nothing in this world,
And it is certain we can accumulate non￾
All things are wearysome and wild,
There's nothing new under the sun!
Tomorrow is unknown, nor promised!
Life is as vapor, appears for a while
And then it vanishes in the mist!
All is vanity! All is scripted in the bible!
Trust no Future, howe'er be pleasant!
Let the dead Past, bury its dead!
Act, — react in the living Present!
Let your hearth within, God o'erhead.