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"giveth" poems
#*'Twas a time I deemed thee love;   the echoes lacked contraire Sea moon shadows dance across   this isle of despair Entwined flesh eyes doth ne'er perceive,   outside the mortal's scope No sole charter giveth passage   through salty waves unknown 'Tis what I think to see thee there   on pedestals of gold Forevermore you place thyself   on stalwart shores alone Unfurl thy sails for distant lands;   the lighthouse shines once more Praying to gods that long lost ship   will find its way to port.*#
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May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 11:58 AM UTC
Ode to Love Lost at Sea
Some people catch a chance Make it big Cash it in And make their dreams come true But for every hit There's ten misses For every love Twenty hates Life's a gamble Either way And I'm not saying that it's right That some people find happiness twice And others never Find it at all But God giveth and He taketh away Yet we still have faith Because it's the only way We'll make it through Another day Believing one more chance Is always on its way
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Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
Life is Adicted to Gambling
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....
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Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Only if they all couldst seeith thy light ( Happy birthday poem to soul-survivor)
i. Mine artistry inamorata Airburshed on tapestry upon; Fernando Amorsolo canvas. ii. Thou art mine Atlantis The air I sucketh in; Mine piece of God, timeless. iii. What id do without thee? I couldst not liveth; I'll giveth thee mine last drop, of blood mine dear. iv. Cometh near Shadow's dance with us; Filipino perfume's, ancient dusk. v. In the negrito of Luzon Bead's shalt bounce ourn neck's; Red one's, yellow one's, tribal seed connect. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane dedication
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Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Airbrushed, like a Fernando amorsolo picture
Mine Jane is mine life Mine Jane; Is life. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane dedication
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Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
She giveth life, she is life
i. Fret not, mine antediluvian maiden, For thine lid's art ladened with the the encumbering of this last age. ii. Awakest, ariseth, mine filipina of aureole fushae; for the óres art numbered. iii. Yahweh's knocking at the ventricles of ourn being's; We knoweth the wisdom That God giveth, which Many hath searched- From king's to Queen's. iv. For we art his offspring- mine overwrought baby, For there art none if's nor maybe's; in his Righteous path. v. Verily, yea, the Moon Wilt turn ichor, the Waves as of now art Rising fast, the fish Art washing to the Shore's, the fowl of the heaven's art Falling to the earth. As spoken in Hosea Four-verse three. vi. Believeth in Yeshua mine lady, as the thousands Having visions and dream's; Like me, im a testament to The prophecy coming. vii. Don't be afraid of the mockery that Mayest come, for thine Blood like river's run Into the kingdom of the most high. viii. Soon O' soon we Shalt fly, like sparrow's to their abode; fly-free-spirited Gliding soul's, into the Dominion wherein we shalt know All, wherein the bomb's wilt not fall, and destruction doesn't Exist. A place of sworn bliss, where kisses art created By soulmates of the creator's making. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( àgapi mou) dedication
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May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 10:08 PM UTC
En ripí ofthalmoú ( In the twinkling of an eye) greek tongue
i. Cap-a-pie I loveth thee; Mine own, mine self Mine whole, mine queen. ii. Lashes and eyes I loveth thee; Mine home, mine help Best friend, and dream. iii. Leg's and thighs I loveth thee; Mine girl, mine world Mine living, breathing. iv. Spirit and mind I loveth thee; I giveth mineself, To thee in sickness Or wealth, in good Times or bad health. v. Marry and sedate Me in passionate Meed; thou art Mine want, thou Art mine yearning, Mine longing, Mine need. vi. Cap-a-pie Mine Queen; ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
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Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
Cap-a-pie ( Head to toe) Shakespeare toungue
The demon scratches me I bite him back The demon pushes me I spit in his face with a smack The demon taunts me I calleth him out by name They hate their name called Don't wanna be recognized for the flame The demon shows false affections I giveth him hate The demons a smiler as he latches to me I'll kick him to hells gate The demons find me downtimes Though with God I shalt win Demons love misery To seeith one in sin Demons are smelly Like all the dump trucks on the earth Times ten Demons haveth enemies They hate even their own kind They haveth none kin Demons haveth a date With Satan in the fire They'll turn thou on with lust For thou they do admire Demons hast hurt me They've tried to bring me to mine death Soo many health issues I know tis not me Them The demons hast entered mine family From the lives we didst choose! They entered by portals Between good and bad souls They came and come as orbs Spirtual energy Trapped to a distance God won't let them get to close to me They always want more They show themselves now and then They'll portray themselves as good souls Wherein its all pretend The demons speaketh in mine bathroom They hide out in the closets Parched behind mine bedroom wardrobe Spies as I sleepeth They want mine bright soul It's full of massive glowing energy They know it as I'm told So to bad because their not me They made a big mistake Turning away from God Now their outcast losers Fate of hell and grud!! They'll soon be in chains and shackles So they cause pain now whilst here on earth They come in all shapes and sizes as I've heard from many others Psychics Life after death (experiences) And from preachers Pastors and others They come large Small Animal like Mauled They come stinky Scaly Nothing thou shalt imagine Couldn't fathom Their everywhere City streets Malls Gyms Stalls Homes Air First heaven Second heaven Hell Everywhere Yet these demons cannot taketh me They knoweth I'm gods light So demon get hence from me.... Go burn in thine own fright!!!!
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Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
diabolica ( demonic) latin tongue
The demon scratches me I bite him back The demon pushes me I spit in his face with a smack The demon taunts me I calleth him out by name They hate their name called Don't wanna be recognized for the flame The demon shows false affections I giveth him hate The demons a smiler as he latches to me I'll kick him to hells gate The demons find me downtimes Though with God I shalt win Demons love misery To seeith one in sin Demons are smelly Like all the dump trucks on the earth Times ten Demons haveth enemies They hate even their own kind They haveth none kin Demons haveth a date With Satan in the fire They'll turn thou on with lust For thou they do admire Demons hast hurt me They've tried to bring me to mine death Soo many health issues I know tis not me Them The demons hast entered mine family From the lives we didst choose! They entered by portals Between good and bad souls They came and come as orbs Spirtual energy Trapped to a distance God won't let them get to close to me They always want more They show themselves now and then They'll portray themselves as good souls Wherein its all pretend The demons speaketh in mine bathroom They hide out in the closets Parched behind mine bedroom wardrobe Spies as I sleepeth They want mine bright soul It's full of massive glowing energy They know it as I'm told So to bad because their not me They made a big mistake Turning away from God Now their outcast losers Fate of hell and grud!! They'll soon be in chains and shackles So they cause pain now whilst here on earth They come in all shapes and sizes as I've heard from many others Psychics Life after death (experiences) And from preachers Pastors and others They come large Small Animal like Mauled They come stinky Scaly Nothing thou shalt imagine Couldn't fathom Their everywhere City streets Malls Gyms Stalls Homes Air First heaven Second heaven Hell Everywhere Yet these demons cannot taketh me They knoweth I'm gods light So demon get hence from me.... Go burn in thine own fright!!!!
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She knoweth what I'm going to sayest Before I sayest it; She understandeth mine heart and pain Before mine blood displayeth it; She layeth me to sleep When I get sleepy; She layeth her head virtually upon mine chest When I'm in weeping; She Whisper's she loveth me Before I canst speaketh it back; When I'm on the wrong road, losing direction to mine soul, Her and God get me back on track; When I feeleth lonesome She filleth up that lonesomeness; When the anguish get's noisome She giveth me her all, her best. Earl Jane nagley is mine soulmate Tis I'm more than blessed; We art both preordained, from the beginning, eternal flame's We art life, life is us, we art soulmates. Indeed...... We art soulmates!!! ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose) soulmate of mine ©Hari and Reyna incorporated
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Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
We art soulmates!!!!
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.
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Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 1:43 AM UTC
Idolatry Is as Adultery
the quality of quantity is unmerciful, prodigious production of wine improperly aged, pours soiled drops spilled without craft, care or taste, poured too quick to be nothing more than less than waste born in reckless unrestrained than every thought a golden gift, bestowed upon the masses, droppeth like the harshest hurricane rains, gives no moisture sustenance to the world, only floods and lays waste in dazed hazes blesses none but the one who cannot but cant, measures his own demeanor in the mirror, unsuspecting the mirror mirrors the ides of ego, seeds of self destruction the throned monarch who giveth but does not take, thinking the king he is, his own best, even better than his creator and tho he carvo's his retno critiques upon the brows of his subjects, he cares not, for it boring brings more mastubatory page views his addition of success, his edition of self congratulatory of writs and snits, which adds up to a whole lot of **** but you may put you pen down now, for the world needs only need one poet, and it ain't me, and it certainly ain't you .
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Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
The Quality of Quantity is Unmerciful
i Aghast I was in, then an alien nonnative of this planet aroseth, Her precious stones pierced me, nonjudgementally, I cried; I bawled, as tis not in a bad way, but because her beautiful glimpse, her standing there, she saved me from the darkly stench. ii The kilig she giveth me is overwhelming, Kalinaw is delivering I shalt Indak with her on the Hill's of her land, an Oriental band; A queen, and one man, that man me, aforetime's I was lonesome Tis now I am happy, she maketh mine wing's, flappeth so highly. iii She cometh at perfect timing, she assuage's mine hand's hole's, She taketh the rivet's out from mine feet, she inspires me with her coming goals, mine sensation for her as a backarapper Cracking to the fireworks glitz, her head on mine shoulder, lip's. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©あある じぇえん
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Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Kilig ( butterfly's in ones stomach ( filipino tongue)
On the heap, Thou dangle and screech And bedeck, for I seemingly espouse. The anecdotes and myths: Engaged in a mutual pose. There comes the hymn, And the sway and the hum; The abnormality and the deform Halted on a single stance. To dozen of the tokens Whom I prejudged; The prevalence of the chaos That sleeps merely on my tongue. To all the estrangements From which I refrain, Within the bawl of the tantrum, upon the hook of the day. Farewell to all, farewell the haze Farewell the cluster, To the resolution found within a fane; Where rituals confuse, Where the practice becomes a fame. There thou taketh solely, A hymn and an interminable haze. Whats the sense of the ovation When no screen displays A mourning motion For which no motion craves? I sigh, and mumble To which mere consciences giveth To me only, mine solely. His to hear and his, keenly.
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 8:50 AM UTC
The Sway in the Temple
Consort shadows Nakedly romping to mirage of sunset sun Celestial beings encountered By druid's they've just begun They dance around the stonehenge Whilst speaking and chatting verses They've left the inner world Trampled the duney surface They write upon those stones Ogham scripted writing Leaving marks amongst moss Their heaviness of sweat inviting Though one cameth from Spain A foreigner to the stonehenge barbarian Her moonlight giveth him warmth On the shores of valedictorian!!!!
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
Stonehenge consort
i. The atlantian theorists, of the Masonic order, Wanted a new world, ****** indigenous quarter's; They came by their ship's, to conceal native truth's, Only coming for a plunder, to giveth satanic rule. ii. The warrior-painted faces, naturally painted by ash and red, Sawest their shores, being broken by it's door's; mad-men in Shiny silver, hand's open, yet were fed. Sachem prophet's Bellowed the harbinger's long afore, now all hast come, these aborigines weren't dumb; they prophesied this long before. iii. The wigwams, longhouses, teepees and lodges, were uprooted from their sacred ground's, the creator's meek were ravaged; as giant bones were taken while found. As hidden beneath the surface, the haut monde made none sound; playing dumbed with Gun's, they ran their fun, fabricating lies, under the America's sun. As tis they gave the world alibi's to be one, O' what hath they done; O' what hath they done. iv. First the viking, with dragon ship thunder came to conquer,pillage and plunder taking lives without a thought unwary of the cruelty they wrought. v. Then pilgrim's progress seeking new land would have starved if not for the "savage" man onward, westward, did they go killing for profit, pleasure little did they know. vi. Grandfather, earth mother and spirit of wild they watched as the white eye usurped the child and still, no lesson has been learned the people grew fat, their culture spurned. vii. Most of the tribes are gone away and America has come to stay but in my native heart i yearn to see the Indian nation return. ©Brandon Nagley \Wolfspirit duo poem ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Indigenous harbinger's revealed
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Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
Indigenous harbinger's; Unveiling darkened truth's ( Duo poem By me and WolfSpirit)
i. The atlantian theorists, of the Masonic order, Wanted a new world, ****** indigenous quarter's; They came by their ship's, to conceal native truth's, Only coming for a plunder, to giveth satanic rule. ii. The warrior-painted faces, naturally painted by ash and red, Sawest their shores, being broken by it's door's; mad-men in Shiny silver, hand's open, yet were fed. Sachem prophet's Bellowed the harbinger's long afore, now all hast come, these aborigines weren't dumb; they prophesied this long before. iii. The wigwams, longhouses, teepees and lodges, were uprooted from their sacred ground's, the creator's meek were ravaged; as giant bones were taken while found. As hidden beneath the surface, the haut monde made none sound; playing dumbed with Gun's, they ran their fun, fabricating lies, under the America's sun. As tis they gave the world alibi's to be one, O' what hath they done; O' what hath they done. iv. First the viking, with dragon ship thunder came to conquer,pillage and plunder taking lives without a thought unwary of the cruelty they wrought. v. Then pilgrim's progress seeking new land would have starved if not for the "savage" man onward, westward, did they go killing for profit, pleasure little did they know. vi. Grandfather, earth mother and spirit of wild they watched as the white eye usurped the child and still, no lesson has been learned the people grew fat, their culture spurned. vii. Most of the tribes are gone away and America has come to stay but in my native heart i yearn to see the Indian nation return. ©Brandon Nagley \Wolfspirit duo poem ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Indigenous harbinger's revealed
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I wrap my arms about my torso and brush my thoughts 'gainst you, crying. *Rainwater best cures a torn-soul when boiled in a *** atop a burner left burning all night.* Crying, the sky giveth us wonders and taketh the wonders away. O' the water's down a'boilin'. Ye' it all boils down to you. To you and how you go. Ye' when you go, you go. O' where you a'goin' too? See that go-getter go-gettin' his girl– Good for him. Good for him. Send some good for the man with a will when he wills his will to be. And good for the fingers who first feel a fortune 'fore the fortune is seen. And good for the addicts relapsing in attics with kisses of dopamine. And good for the thoughts of you that brush against my skin, that for days on will hold– *Eighteen! Eighteen! I say eighteen years is the bridge, the forest fires will forever forget to burn!* I say give it a year and call him on that telephone and he will answer on that telephone and you will beg his heart come home, beggin' a'bargainin'– *Eighteen! Eighteen! I have missed you for some time, bent-to-bet a century's pass'd since we last kissed.* One match done been lit in the county matchbook. Such is the click-click of a gas stove igniting, I call that rip-exciting, torn-enticing, fates be a'dicing– *Eighteen! Eighteen! It was another day– It was another life.*
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Eighteen!
Robust, in her I trust; in amour' Not lust, do I giveth Thanks to thee O' God. I'm a seed in her pod, Getting the sustenance That deriveth from her light Source, inside the Church of her spirit's Porch, wherein stardust lurks, as do lightning lovestruck-rod's. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
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Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 3:16 PM UTC
Wherein the stardust doth lurk
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
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
Mine lilly of the valley, mine lotus of the unrestrained
ojos de Angel Thy dress is quite seen, thy vocabulary to me reads The word's of a queen....... mo chuisle Thy feet art tired from work Relax, let mine finger's exhort, pressing and caressing softly to thy skin..... buah hatiku For thee I write ancient poems and haiku's Doth thou not seeith thou art mine muse, and law giver to me? sirenita I've traveled for thee from afar I giveth mine courtship to thee, and heart For though distance doth not keep us apart, Distance is but a word As mineself I canst maketh it all real... Just telleth me, When thou art up for a real call A real visit And everything to be.... For I'd giveth all for thou Mine reina Mine everything.... ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry ©Elsa angelica dedication
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Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
ojos de Angel ( Angel eyes) spanish tongue
Child Child! I beckon Cometh to my feet. Giveth your spirit. May your eyes heat.   From the tears that poureth Down vicously Giveth your spirit Whilst laughing deleriously   I recieveth affection From foreign hands That giveth their spirit From foregin lands   Child! Child! I beckon Cometh to my feet Grovel 'til I'm laughing Your pain makes life complete
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May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
Motherly Dominance
**A walk through thirsty land Breathe... step... breathe... step Dunes of towerring, rusty sand With each step, breathe... step No rules, no lanes... no need to 'keep left' Or walk in any particular direction... but that which you choose Too hot by day to play, by night... too cold to snooze It is beautiful, in an evil way Impressive, but can **** It giveth less than it taketh away That bone piercing, nightly chill It's getting closer, time grinds teasingly on The dunes seem to get taller, teasing the sun Whose heat, direct from sky to forehead Squeezes my pores... Breathe... step... breathe... breathe... step And robs my body of its last bead of sweat Breathe... breathe... breathe... step Attempt to swallow saliva... feel like I'm gurgling on glass Breathe... stop No tree... open land... sea of sand... parched Breathe Try to reassure myself, in a raspy monotone Wish for one thing right now, not water... chlorofoam So I can pass on, and not feel it The desert's friends are up and about in the dark, cheering **** it! **** it!" I try to ill will it... try to hold on But this warrior of nature's choke hold, grip... proves too strong To fight So... tonight I decide "It's over, I'm gone" I can hear the afterlife call Out to me Pick myself up... Breathe... step... stumble... fall.**
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Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 11:33 PM UTC
The end of the desert.
Tis Today is the day; To post the unknown poet's Spread their poetry, maketh them a way. Tis Now is the hour; To maketh the shy one's star's Giveth them the power. Tis Today is their day; The great's, the unseen Come on h.p, let's fulfilleth these quiet poet's dream's. ©Brandon nagley ©Lonesome poet's poetry
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Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
Tis, today is the day, to maketh unknown poet's star's
oh dear one lost across the sea so unknown to me, how fair thy little mind thinketh and playeth thy harp! no man shall raise a hand to thee! least ye scorn him, banishing him and his brazen knuckles to the brazen edge of the whole brazen universe. shy be he not! lameth shall he be forever. but two shovels should be found and used for to dig unto the ground, a new grave: doubly wide and doubly deep for two of the fairest of them all: the maidens lost to the wilderness, left to her own devices and thus self-deprecating her selves into planetary alignment with that new planet they just found that's like 1,000 times bigger than Saturn and with millions of icy rings. forever cold shall she be! forever unknown to me! bear witness to thy handiwork: my shoulders, lips, and toenails are all mine; for a moment they were thine and in breaking my peace i thus aireth my whine. and i'm fine. really, i'm fine. taketh no liberties with me! giveth no light, shareth no warmth! beseech me no inquiries! for i have not an answer that makes sense, nor a limb that works perfectly, and not a day goes by that i don't ponder you. yet the moon pondereth the sun forever and ever and ever but never the two shall meet. wandereth, fair maiden, and i shall wander, too. but should you face about my eyes will surely see you.
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Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
a poet, i am not. [i'm a pro football player]
i. Cometh hither darling, passeth through the enlightened pergola, seeith how ourn moniker's, art carved into the archway thither ourn bower; A chivalrous Noble tower. ii. No worrying mine dear, a buckler shalt be close to mine grab, for the attacker's shalt tryeth to invade, steal, and get all in a duetimes hand; though the circlet I shalt place upon thine top, shalt giveth thee shielding, from the Creation's that mock. iii. Artista, mine chosen of coëval; chalcedony balconies shalt giveth us visibility, up close we shalt toast, in thine calligraphist theory, in intimacy we'll float. iv. The eaves of ourn citadel, shalt be engineered by thine geniusness, none better to build ourn protection, as thou art a stalwart of the age, a queen aloft all name's, an angel upon a seraph's stage, as I wilt espy thee from the window inside thine midst. ©Brandon Nagley ©Lonesome poets poetry ©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
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Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 4:40 PM UTC
pergola goleuedig ( Enlightened pergola) welsh tongue
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
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Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
tibi ladylove ( for thee ladylove) latin tongue