"floweret" poems
Man Naturally loves delay,
And to procrastinate;
Business put off from day to day
Is always done to late.
Let ever hour be in its place
Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,
And well enjoy the vacant space,
As though a birthday gift.
And when the hour arrives, be there,
Where'er that "there" may be;
Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair
Let no one ever see.
If dinner at "half-past" be placed,
At "half-past" then be dressed.
If at a "quarter-past" make haste
To be down with the rest
Better to be before you time,
Than e're to be behind;
To open the door while strikes the chime,
That shows a punctual mind.
Moral:
Let punctuality and care
Seize every flitting hour,
So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,
E'en from a fading flower
23.5k
You, the secret code
of a ship wreckage
inscribed with my name.
On a chariot of wind
Wearing a T-shirt saying
‘Sorry, I have vexed you’,
I’m sending you
a floweret form the sea,
Whose petals in-sync
with the waves in the seas.
When the chariot returns
Please do send back with it,
An acceptance footnote
for my apologies to you.
Like a bulb illuminating
on the speech bubble
of a cartoon character
I will find the map
en route to the land form it.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She wooes the tardy Spring:
Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground,
And lightly o’er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance
The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the skylark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now that wildly flow
No yesterday nor morrow know;
’Tis Man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.
Smiles on past Misfortune’s brow
Soft Reflection’s hand can trace,
And o’er the cheek of Sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;
While Hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades, that dimly lour
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still, where rosy Pleasure leads
See a kindred Grief pursue;
Behind the steps that Misery treads
Approaching Comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sabler tints of woe,
And blended form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.
See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost,
And breathe and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
3.2k
A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet --
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
2k
(greek tongue)
i.
Ένδυσης της αγνή
ένα παραθυρόφυλλο του προτροπή;
Espied θεραπείες , Girt μέση του,
δεν είναι σε τάφο, δια του παρόντος
υπερβατική πηγή έμπνευσης.
ii.
Αμετάβλητος θέλεις να είμαστε
συναντιούνται για νεότητα , η δική μου κόσμιος βασίλισσα;
Κανένας πιο ζωντανό μέσα ourn ονείρου,
μόνο εσύ και εγώ , ορυχείο μετριάζεται γλυκό.
iii.
θελεις ανθύλλιο του αψηφούν earthbound μυαλό των ανδρών του, που τόνος , που τόνος , θαυμάστε τους ? του είδους του Θεού.
iv.
O ' σε ourn χρόνο , O' εκείνη την ημέρα,
sup μας μαραίνονται , στη ζεστή αγκαλιά;
Ο Θεός να είναι ο ήλιος , το φως για ourn πρόσωπο ,
Αρχοντικού για να μας οδηγήσει στο σπίτι , πέρα από τις πύλες μαργαριταρένια .
(English version)
i.
Apparel of the chaste
a casement of exhortation;
Espied cures, waist's girt,
not in a grave, herewith
transcendent inspiration.
ii.
Immutable shalt we be
meet for newness, mine comely queen;
None more living inside ourn dreams,
Just thou and me, mine tempered sweet.
iii.
Floweret's shalt defy men's earthly mind's,
They warble, their marvel's; of heaven's
Kind.
iv.
O' in ourn time, O' in that day,
Sup we wilt, in warm embrace;
God to be the sun, light's on ourn face,
Mansion's to lead us home, past the pearly gates.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley ( àgapi mou dedication)
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
Witness me in full bloom;
I am a flower
about to blossom.
I possess an alluring scent
to capture your attention.
Other than that,
I am just a fragile floweret
that you used
as a wreath.
I was a stupid bud
to think that
I am the only flower
in your garden;
yet you chose to hung me up.
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 4:49 AM UTC