"floweth" poems
School is fun and summer is fading, Fall is here and math I am hating. What to do I am debating, Why Jesus, why?.. was trigonometry worth creating. If I could i would sit and craft rhymes to slowly **** away this time. But then what would I find? School is gone and I have since wasted my mind. So as I sit and ponder life’s choices, one can’t help but recollect one’s voices. “Oh two assignments is all? I can do that later, after I make this call. Oh yeah and after I go here and there and decide what jacket to wear... next tuesday.” before I know it, my grade the teacher showeth, and henceforth the F+ floweth. Don’t cry my son, your not quite done, you’ve still got a few cards to play, a few lines to say. What will be and what may are mine to say, at the end of the day the grade reads what you really want it to say. So pick up your pencil and pick up your head, this may not be quick and this may not be easy, this may make you weary and this may make you teary, because this will take what you have and you have what it takes, so henceforth your future you makes.
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:32 AM UTC
BEAT YOUR CHEST
TO THE MARCH OF
THE PRIMAL DRUM
LET WHAT FLOWETH
FROM THY CROWN
BE SET UNTO AIR
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 2:15 PM UTC
i.
At the fore of the gateway
Precious stone's exhibited;
Her beauty and grace.
ii.
A crystal shined gold
Floweth from her soul;
Mine soulmate of heaven's place.
iii.
From her feet
To her waist;
A wine of jasper grape's.
iv.
Inside her ambience rested
Sapphire, chalcedony
Emerald, sardonyx
Sardius, chrysolite
Beryl, topaz,
Chrysoprasus,
Jacinth,
Amethyst.
v.
I was awestruck
God gaveth me unadulterated holiness;
I am verily hooked
To mine queen, mine Jane, mine happiness.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication-Filipino rose
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
i.
Mine Filipino rose
I canst not thanketh thee enough;
For giving me a home.
ii.
Mine Filipino rose
Thou always asketh if I knoweth how much thou doth for me;
Yes, I do knoweth, as tis I'm so blessed, and thankful mine queen.
iii.
Mine Filipino rose
I've seen the street's of gold, the pearly gates, the mansion of god;
Because of thee, I've seen heaven's scene's, as thou art a cherub.
iv.
Mine Filipino rose
As I always sayeth, tomorrow may never cometh;
Where the fountain's of life floweth, there I'll stayeth.
v.
Mine Filipino rose
Mine existence, mine life, mine earl Jane, mine wife;
Mine law of good and right, if I dont awaketh, I'll be in the light.
vi.
Mine Filipino rose
I canst not taketh thing's for granted, night might be the last kiss;
For I shalt forever giveth to thee me mine dove, mine wish is this.
vii.
Mine Filipino rose
Mine wish is for if I'm to dieth tonight, never forget me lass;
Look beyond thy window glass, picture mine wing's in flight.
viii.
Mine Filipino rose
Mine heart, mind, spirit, leg's, arm's, eye's, hair, body, soul;
Mine everything of this being, I thanketh thee for all thou hath done.......,,.,
ix.
For god hast sent me an angel
Thee;
The chosen one...........
x.
Mine Filipino
Rose;
I loveth thee more.......
©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication \filipino rose dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
What art thou doing today friend?
Art thou living in pleasure's;
Or materials.
What art thou doing today friend?
Art thou wearing a mask;
Putting on a good smile, screaming inside.
What doth thou doeth in thine spare time?
Doth thou hurt other's;
Taketh to never giveth, getting rich off poor and blind?
What doth thou feeleth dear friend?
Doth thou not realize, wordly pleasure's only last a second;
Until thine end.
What doth thou heareth O man?
The music to loud on thine speaker's;
Blocking out God whilst thou canst?
What art thou drinking oh brother?
Alcohol to dilute thee;
A well from God floweth much better.
Wherein is thine wife O mate?
O thou art not at thine abode;
Cheating again, with a hot date.
Wherein doth thou investeth thine time?
Material's that dissapear, putting loot into stock's and shares;
Loosing thine wordly mind?
Wherein art thy children?
Left all by their self, thy wife not getting help;
Whilst thou hath put them on the dusty shelf.
Doth thou even knoweth where thou art going?
When thine heart's pulse stoppeth;
There's a heaven and hell, beast's in cell's, where thy skin fryeth.
Doth thou taketh thing's for granted?
Living today as if there's another;
Forgot thy sister and brother's, as art purpose here is love.
Didst thou knoweth?
Thine sin's canst be forgiven, with the last day's to thee given;
Wilt thou except the creator's grace? Or turneth away?
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:01 PM UTC
(Dedicated to my mother, Juna Marie Nagley- happy mother's day momma!!!)
O' Màthair, Màthair, from whence I birthed.
Best friend, mine Angel, mine guide; Disguised
As a lady at birth; it's from thine womb from
Whence I arrived, this is a thanking thee, to
A flawless seraph, mine Màthair, mine Màthair-
To thee; whom do I compareth?
Anglamotharia, thou hath always met mine need's,
When mine knee was scraped, and when I got sick;
Thou wouldst alway's protecteth me. Eyne blue as
The sea's, hair blonde as the street's thou hath
stemmed from, Anglamotharia-Jehovah's chosen
One, mine host of host's, guardian from the ghost's
Who always tried to hurt thy own son.
Anglamotharia, from whence I am from-
Latha màthair math; angelic one.
(Second part is a mothers day dedication to my mother in law Evangeline sardua- Earl Jane sardua my Queens mother....)
Adlaw Malipayon inahan, dearest mother-in-law, the Apple to Jane's vision, hardworking, gentle-calm. I thankest thee for showing Jane the right way's; the way's of God, the way's of love, O' heaven knoweth thy name.
Adlaw Malipayon inahan, woman who knoweth none time, for thine family is thy priority; thou cookest and cleanest, thy labor hath heavied over time, mayest the Lord bless thee and keep thee, and the Lord make His face shine upon thee. And be gracious to thee. The Lord lift up His countenance upon thee,
And give thee peace. Mayest thine abode be a blessing from Mount malindang-west unto East. Mayest Yeshua guideth thy feet to where dangerous travels cometh and goeth. Mayest the word of God always from thy mouth appear and floweth. Mayest this mother's day, be a remembrance to thee, Evangeline; thy love hath not been forgotten, this is mine gift and thanking to thee.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©mothers day dedication to two special mother's ( Evangeline Sardua, janes mother, and dedication to my mother juna Marie Nagley, ) happy mother's day to both of you and may God shine his face upon you!!! With love Brandon!!
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
*canst poor smile
amid world in bad-shod fit
writ's a-fire
pardon season's ire*
bring'st forth jollity and smiles aplenty
ne'er plaintive be of the sad woe of man
lift high-sky the bless'd, one and seventy
mind scant the fo'c's'tle head in deadpan
floweth into desires flowers of merriment
push upon life gladness; poem of joy-bright
exult all forms of joviality and rejoice on
cheery-heart to amuse and glide to skylight
be curs'd with melancholia; fry all the frowns
ring in goodly-humour and make-it-all-bright
drown dips of despair and banish the downs
expel the heartbroken-ideals; deport skint-lite
what befits the real-feel to true equal-match
face with beck-n-call smile belies wake-latch
(fake)
S T - 29 sept
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
i
In the astrology set agora
Wherein mine agra doth rest
The backwoods to her cache
Is a peaceful gentle nest.
ii
She's a cad of angelic estancia
I espy her espirit fandango
Her lace strand's floweth wildly
Fantasia of mine melody, extra terrestrial fangled.
iii
Mine Gage I handeth her, to not leaveth her side
An agala we shalt maketh romance, whilst gaiety is in her eyes
A Jardiniere to hold her tears, when Jasper's do cometh around
Jarrah to fill ourn kava diligence, diluvial amare is it's sound.
iv
No blunder head's to separate us
Just Bluebell's blush
To admire mine belle of a lamb
Her bema shalt be raised, when its me who is her man.
v
Ourn belvedere casa, ourn terrace to overlook
This is ourn story, not a tale of fools and crook's
The cover of ourn book, shalt we be entwined
Right inside the pages, of every lonesome lover's mind.
®Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Elsa angelica dedication
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC
pag-ibig
We shalt walketh down the aisle;
Frosted white rosette's
Ourn hair, to floweth wild.
©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
In a secret chamber mine love-
novel to other's, we shalt repose.
Thought's to not only be understood
In the physical, but in the kingdom
Wherein living water floweth
From ourn soul's. Pinnacle's
Defying scientific theory of
Time and space. For where
We shalt be there art sea's
Eternally unspoken; Only
By God shalt one seeith the
Glimmering turnstile, none
trespass allowed there, none
agápi to be defiled. Here, this
Place we shalt floshtarize in
unbarring liberty; a cordillera
Aloft the breeze we shalt ascend.
Ourn spirit's wilt twist and bend
To the notes of saintly chord's. O'
Anon mine girl, anon; we shalt sip
From the grip of turquoise pond's. As
The treasures we wilt collect, shalt be
providential, ourn residential abode-
white as snow, O'er the Show
of the most essential.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( àgapi mou) dedication
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC
i.
Mine doting of thou,
Is not wilting amour;
Mine love is more
Then floating, outside
Thy door.
ii.
Even in mine woe,
And caging dolor;
I shouteth thy name,
"Sweet jane' mine girl.
iii.
Whilst even in mine
Suffering, and the
Battle I'm in; with
Satan and his lackey's,
I wilt step upon them.
With thy help, and God's
Discipline, Jane O' Jane,
I'll soareth to the highest
Apex, mine plume's to expand,
Wing's to stretch; Yahweh's mighty
Word, to push them back to the gates of death.
iv.
So mine Jane,
I telleth thou this;
I'm not losing amour,
Nor am I tenderness.
I'm in the stage, of trans-
Figuration, O' soon queen,
We shalt meet in blissfulness,
Beautiful apparition's. Ghost's of
Old, ancient soul's, we'll tasteth
Cascade's of mezmerdade; bralishas
Of barinthia, thitherward the province of
Ourn holy one, next to El Shaddai, meaning
Elohim, also Jehovah, mine Jane and honey-
Bee. Aside the Almighty's throne, And elevated
Seat, his son Jesus Christ on the right- garbed
In robes that floweth with the vim of life. As there
Shalt be none need for the sun or moon, the creator's
Ourn light. A place that's right, wherein there art none wrong's,
Ourn sin's art forgotten within the angelic song's, these song's wilt be sung, on a basis of eternity; none ending, just befriending of the saint's at God's feet. Wisdom shalt be deep, from the beginning of ages, none more false prophet's nor greedy men to ruin the nation's, Concord within ourn Lord shalt follow the month's, as Jane, mine swain, it wilt be in this time's happening;
It's still thee I shalt want. So hold on tightly, don't let loose of mine hand, we'll trounce these dark bearers, and pour holy oil upon their head's, None more wilt they torture us, as they'll flee instead, before of ourn Lord, Jesus Christ, the risen, the man, the son of God, ourn protection, whom hath arisen from the dead.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
Craving one's cinnamon zest
To pull mine hair
To showeth me to her caress
To maketh amare in moonlight crescent
To whirl the fellow sun
To steameth up the castle window's
On telephone drenchy fun
To walketh in lost forest's
To Mardi gra's brine soaking,
Of ourn brim to floweth over by the ounce!!!!
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
An openness not hidden
A grail to over floweth
A love out in the open
An amour for all to knoweth!
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
Oh, carry me on the winds of a sleepless dream,
Where there's fields aplenty upon the fiddler's green,
Where the woman is kind and the man is fit and clean,
Borne there upon St. Albans' wing.
Drift me off upon a fiddlers tune,
To a place where the sky is such a brilliant blue,
Where hope is abounding like those dog-days in June,
Where magnolias sprout forth like passion renewed.
****** me forth upon the lover's blade,
A more precarious place no other man can claim,
Where hope and love balance upon a precarious edge,
So easy to tumble off into that dark and void-filled death.
To be in such a state,
forsaking sleep,
Carries me to this strangest of dream,
For without such abstention,
And lack of means,
My creativity floweth out into an endless stream.
Aug 7, 2023
Aug 7, 2023 at 9:01 AM UTC
By the shore there is a table
Old and rickety, to hold much 'tis not able
Upon that table is a glass of wine
Delicate, beautiful, its contents fine.
But the shore is cruel to the fragile little glass
For it sends terrible storms that pass
Over the table, the wind makes it sway
Taunting the glass, O cruel bay!
The slightest of touch will make it shatter,
Yet the shore sends the rain that comes a pitter-patter
The cup over floweth, fine contents spilled
The poor crystal seems to cry as 'tis overfilled.
This delicate glass will fall at a touch
Why must the table sway so much?
Yet all it needs is a firm hand
To secure the table to a stable stand.
Little wineglass, where is your help?
A little security is all you need.
Jul 25, 2012
Jul 25, 2012 at 1:11 PM UTC
Friends, acquaintances, strangers, I bid thee, which of two takes precedence?
Be it a nobler aim to obstruct thy door and remain in thy domicile until the end of time?
Or be it nobler to venture into the unknown, unprotected and on pain of possible demise?
'Tis the question at heart.
'Tis a question of the security of the citizenry.
When death's dark emissary cometh with haste, in what manner shall he find thee?
Shall thee be secured in thy possessions, apart from danger, and unharmed all these years bygone?
Or shall the emissary find thee in a different state, perhaps one of felicity?
'Tis the question of the security of the citizenry.
Yea, there are those few proud that are the makes of heroic tales profound.
They forewent the promise of security for the mere taste of an ascended delicacy, for a mere sampling of the honey that floweth from the tree of liberty.
And when the great father bids of me, "Which of these were you, enslaved or free?"
My retort shall be simple.
In this grand question concerning the security of the citizenry, I forewent my security in favor of the great gift that is liberty.
In the matter of the state and her subjects, and in times of great turmoil, the liberties of the people are oft lain to the side, so that they may live another day free of death's eternal sleep.
Yea, what is the value of life if its experience is cheap?
To what extent are we thinkers free if our place in the flock is that of sheep?
Thy liberties are a priceless commodity.
'Tis a question of the security of the citizenry.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 3:03 AM UTC
What have I done to bleed?
To be deprived of happiness and tranquility?
To an endless cycle of discord who will impede?
For as the days pass I grow tired of serendipity.
A shattered armor and a punctured heart
What reason is there for me to stand?
Will the time ever come that I will appreciate art?
For color to this barren land I can never demand.
As my scarlet blood is illuminated by the moon afar
Tears floweth from my eyes till there is no more.
Then I saw a beauty with her chariot of stars,
A bringer of sanguiness that brought life to my core.
O! eyes of crystalline gem
You have captivated me.
Hair of golden grapevine stem,
That flows with the zephyr’s glee.
You are the symbol of grandiose beauty.
Save me from this cavern that blinded me.
Let your radiant glow illuminate this face of me.
Hear my cries, hear my calls of misery
Save me, O goddess, and let me be.
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 4:35 AM UTC
Their story is not over
Somehow they'll end back up again
In another life
Wherein all is right
And all the openness
No more sadness
On both ends
No more worries
Of what's to come
If only one shalt heareth me,
Where life's Brooks floweth and run
The sun to guide their memories
Truly not forgotten
Two verses of biblical proportion
A tree of life to all their knowledge!!!
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
As the hourglass tipped it's sand
The gypsies were walking
Hand in hand
Singing sixties operas
With flowers to their kilts
Denounced hatred
And ******
With a chalice of wealth
Blood from from soldiers
Uncle Sam
Lived in filth
Gargoyles stood the maze
Bearded ones didn't shave
As preppies spoke
In language
Flat and grey
Yet the gypsies
Loved another
With bands of beads
And colored clothing
Crystal *****
To see the future
Whilst the end is surely coming
Tears floweth
Growls are humming
As racial slurs
Are blue badged gesture
The sick get worse
The fool gets better
As Wherein the gypsies
Danced a grog
Of synagogue
Temples!!!
Jibberish songs!!
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
Her pain is mine misery
When her tears floweth I drown with them
I one day hope to find their cure
To take away her sins..
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Malaise words floweth from me,
as the rain taps this diffident roof,
where snap picture lovers sit in booths,
As i siteth on the hill!
tenacious muse...
Dearth of rosies line these chalk cracked walks,
Just complainers complain and gaulk,
as thine mergers thy own self sees breaking!
the earth seems quaking...
Saccharine duet,
a cloaked baggette,
a diamond in the rough i only heap to unravel..
the mound has turned gravel, where tombs whence layed..
Stanzas to post on paper,
clocks to do no favor,
as when time passes,
soo doth thy memories...
full yet unplentied..
Veneration is scarecely innocent,
the young grow older, the bold seem colder,
as neither hot nor cold,
thou could spew them from thine mouth!
a red immutable couch!!!
Unprecidented lingo i want to perfect,
where a queen and me will flect,
on now,
and thy new tommorrow.
ourn own oak thats hollow!!!
two sage stoic's,
where when thouest fall one shall know it,
and lend you their hand,
and NOT a tounge lashing!
ultimate blessing...
Two herasies made covenant,
two births on their own planet,
One spirit to their magnet,
as One profuse enigma ,
Provincial to god and us...........
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
i
Mine needing just to heareth her voice
I pray may cometh soon
The needing of me being her choice
I prayeth to God's moon.
ii
The asking of ourn creator to protect her nightly
Is a must thing, praying asking he, her he might bring
In lullaby's, cry's, and screams, I'd wish she'd only see
I've been held up in the rain, waiting endlessly.
iii
Like her, I'm a foreigner to this trotting
Man showeth her naught, I giveth her mine pale skin's outting
The knitting of her love Into me, instill's me tightly buckled
If only she'd taketh all of me, I might smile a happy puddle.
iv
Though smiling only cometh when her face shineth bright
When I am assured she's safe and secure, then all is alright
Mine stitches needeth bandaged, shalt she seeith mine wounds?
The red drip canst only floweth so long, wherein song's art true.
v
Though I shalt still be here abiding, as a spawn to open water
I shalt even take men's ridicule, Ill taketh daily slaughter
Tis I shalt be a martyr, to the amour I believeth in
For I shalt tarry waiting, for that hope from mine hopelessness.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa angelica dedication
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
Ignis fatuus reverie
Vigil me in mine torpor
Douse me in voltaic lava
Be mine mi amour'
Facade me in thy fancy
Include me in thy life
For a king I'm trying to hand thou
For a queen to be mine wife!!!
Compose me to mine worries
**** this juice up off mine tongue
Where honey bees and huckleberry
Floweth well,
And wherein dry doth not run!!
Garb me in the coffin
Observe the beast I am
Unslave me from mine shackles
Say I do, I'll say I'm your man!!
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 11:24 AM UTC
When in her presence,
I humbly drop to mine knees....
Not just because she's mi amour,
But because she's mine queen...
And whilst holding up by mine forearm's
I seeith her night-gown floweth,
As the tiera on her head
Maketh me fall when it gloweth...
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
Row mine carcass down to the Shangri la valley's
Between the mountain's of amour'
Wherein peace floweth in mine essence
Through the heavenly gulley's
Wherein I'll meet mine queen of far shore
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC