"holdeth" poems
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
I
How should I seek to make a song for thee
When all my music is to moan thy name?
That long sad monotone - the same - the same -
Matching the mute insatiable sea
That throbs with life's bewitching agony,
Too long to measure and too fierce to tame!
An hurtful joy, a fascinating shame
Is this great ache that grips the heart of me.
Even as a cancer, so this passion gnaws
Away my soul, and will not ease its jaws
Till I am dead. Then let me die! Who knows
But that this corpse committed to the earth
May be the occasion of some happier birth?
Spring's earliest snowdrop? Summer's latest rose?
II
Thou knowest what asp hath fixed its lethal tooth
In the white breast that trembled like a flower
At thy name whispered. thou hast marked how hour
By hour its poison hath dissolved my youth,
Half skilled to agonise, half skilled to soothe
This passion ineluctable, this power
Slave to its single end, to storm the tower
That holdeth thee, who art Authentic Truth.
O golden hawk! O lidless eye! Behold
How the grey creeps upon the shuddering gold!
Still I will strive! That thou mayst sweep
Swift on the dead from thine all-seeing steep -
And the unutterable word by spoken.
3.9k
i.
O'
Timely
Apricity;
ii.
Mayest thou
Warm, and blanketeth
Me; as a neonate, as
Thou shalt gorgonize
Me, from within the space,
Ourn embracing is a cataract,
Of heavied chime-together laced.
iii.
Thine speak is comely, Concord
To mine earshot; the copse is
Surrounding, none manor
Needed, just the coney's,
With the delightful tree's,
veneering ourn cot.
iv.
Exhaling all ourn woes
And sorrow's, as if none
Tommorrow; None haste,
And none distaste, house-
Leeks groweth whilst the
Flaxen colored roses follow.
v.
O' oriental Apricity
I'm cold mine lass,
I'm freezing fast;
This winter day
Hath chilled mine
Soul, I needeth thine
Fire-place, to heateth these bones.
Though far-flung, away on stretched water's.
I'm awaiting for thee, mine queen, O' Apricity,
I'm awaiting O' queen, mine swart of the sea, thou holdeth the lock, tis I hath the key, here thou goeth amour', open it up, flyeth on through-setteth me free.
©Brandon Nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 5:02 PM UTC
O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;
Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;
Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth
With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.
She hath no questions, she hath no replies,
Hushed in and curtained with a blessed dearth
Of all that irked her from the hour of birth;
With stillness that is almost Paradise.
Darkness more clear than noon-day holdeth her,
Silence more musical than any song;
Even her very heart has ceased to stir:
Until the morning of Eternity
Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;
And when she wakes she will not think it long.
1.6k
What is a poet?
If he
Or she
Canst not spilleth their soul on a Papyrus?
Or speaketh their soul's poetry in words?
If one poet canst canst not speaketh their poetry in word's
Or write it down on some Papyrus,
Than that's control
And no poet
Ever wanted to be controlled!!!!
It's as if a prophet in the oldened day's
Whence man tried to control the prophets truth from being spoken
Take Moses as an example.
They tried to holdeth back his truth,
And the water's didst turneth into undrinkable blood....
Never control a poet's writing's
Or his souls word's!!!!
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesoms poets poetry
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
Whereforth art the kittens, Isibella, Isibella?
Why doth they long for the spring?
Nearer, o, nearer, mine heart holdeth thee dearer
As long as the first scent of spring draws me nearer
To thee, to thee.
O stretch thou thy paws high, and sing, sing,
so stretch thou thy paws high and sing.
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 10:20 PM UTC
The legion of mine zeal for thee
Outreaches unknown boundaries,
No barbed wire to holdeth me back
Just a ( I loveth thee to mine mami) ( to mine love)
And a ( I needeth thee now) oh papi ( from mine love)!!!!
From the one I sit on hold....
Slang we shalt speaketh as peasants
But ourn amare richer than most,
To guide her by mine allegiance
To bathe with her in comet lighting toast...
Her jazzy sensual patois
To pleat me in mine king throne bassinet,
The queen to taketh mine angst
And lie me in a dream I canst forget.
She whispers deeply secrets
As mine ears perk in excite,
Her eyes burn voluptuous through mine
She comforts me at night!!!!!
I canst never tread off
From the only familiar ***** rose,
I've toldeth thee all long ago
We were past life amour's of long beginning show.
The asteroids we used as projection
To maketh ourn way here,
Yet now the earth's ending
We must return to infinate angel years...
Ourn Chronograph's don't telleth Pace's
Only ourn soul's affection for eachother,
As a monarch of the Luna atmosphere she is
Twas I was sent here to bring her back into her home
Mine arms.....
Mine eyes
Mine mind
Mine soul
Mine spirit......
Wherein she already knoweth she belongs!!!!
As tis
She was mine
Long before she ever kneweth it..
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
i.
Indue me with thine habiliment made of amethyst silk,
Certes; mine is thine as thine is mine. The firmament shalt one day disintegrate, and the moon wilt not shine.
ii.
Erelong, mine love, erelong, we shalt be cometoid's cavorting
To drum's of virtuous beat's; except in the kingdom wherein we'll stayeth, there shalt be paved golden way's upon the street's.
iii.
O' Tagalog beauty- taketh all of me, subdue me when I am down and wearied, broken and teary, as this ground hath creature's hand's reaching up to claw and scratch;
iv.
I shalt thole the many great length's between ourn ocean's
I shalt waiteth yonside this distance, and holdeth on to thine
Loving potion; if it taketh eternity, I promise queen,
I'll get there, by boat's of steam, or flying machines-
Whether chariot, or unearthly saucers. I wilt get there,
Mine Filipino rose; God's chosen daughter.
©Brandon Nagley
©lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 2:49 PM UTC
I shalt bedight her in Accretion formation, to thy earth she's a patron; bringing a missive from planetary space station's. The string's of Constellation's holdeth up her finger's, as she tint's the empyrean with yellow petal's. Her cosmic ray's woo and spray mine heart with Extragalactic feeling. Her wing's stretch high to ceiling's; whilst her plumage safeguard's mine worrie's. She's the entity of the heavenly father's beginning stories; O' sweet glory, O' marvelous glory, how thou hath given me a wonder dear God, thou hast given me the land with golden street's, inside the palm of mine tired hand's. O', how blessed I am. O', how blessed I am. For thou hath sent me Asiatic Jane, messenger to man.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication/Filipino rose
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 2:08 PM UTC
Tea: Jamil, in the soft breath of dawn,
I am the whisper that healeth, that’s drawn
From the quiet depths of forgotten dreams,
A balm for the heart where silence gleams.
I hold thee close with love that is slow,
Like a river’s song, gentle and low.
Yet on Saturdays, I see thee depart,
To the fire that stealeth thy wandering heart.
She calleth with a fervor, a scorching desire,
Whilst I, the shadow, wait, untouched by fire.
Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?
I am the flame that maketh thee glow.
Her touch may soothe, her peace may bind,
But I am the tempest that frees thy mind.
I stir thee deep where secrets dwell,
In the heat of passion, I break the spell.
Once a week, thou dost return to me,
And in mine arms, thou art truly free.
Her silence may cradle thee in sleep,
But I am the pulse, the heart that leaps.
Tea: But Jamil, dost thou not feel the grace
That I weave around thee in this place?
I am the quiet that holdeth thee near,
The balm for thy soul, the voice sincere.
She burneth with a passion that blindeth thy sight,
But I am the dusk, the still of the night.
When thy heart is weary, when thoughts collide,
It is I who still thee, a place to hide.
She is the fire, but I am the rain,
The softness that sooth’th thy deepest pain.
Coffee: Jamil, thou art blind to see—
In my fire, thy soul shall be.
Her touch may cradle thee with care,
But I am the wind that stirreth the air.
She whispereth peace, but I roar with power,
I am the lightning, the midnight hour.
Once a week, thou dost call my name,
And in my heat, thou find’st no shame.
She giveth thee rest, but I giveth thee life,
The pulse that cutteth through all thy strife.
Tea: Yet, Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find
A peace that quieteth the storm in thy mind?
I am the silence between each sigh,
The softest breath that maketh thee fly.
She may burn bright with her fire and flame,
But I am the root that calleth thy name.
When the world is cruel, when the heart is lost,
It is I who heal thee, whatever the cost.
She is the storm, but I am the earth,
The place where love findeth its rebirth.
Coffee: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not know?
I am the pulse that maketh thee grow.
Her calm may cradle thee, but I ignite
The flame that burneth through the endless night.
Once a week, thou dost seek my fire,
In mine embrace, thou dost never tire.
She cradles thee in soft repose,
But I am the ache, the longing that grows.
Tea: Still, Jamil, dost thou not see,
In mine silence, thy soul is free?
I am the lullaby that maketh thee dream,
The quiet touch, the steady stream.
She is the fire that consumeth and taketh,
But I am the love that gently breaketh.
When thou art lost, when thy heart is torn,
It is I who will guide thee, reborn.
She is the tempest, the wild, the flame,
But I am the refuge, the place of shame.
Coffee: Jamil, thou dost not understand,
I am the fire, the burning hand.
Her touch is soft, but mine is raw,
The wild desire, the heart's deep flaw.
Once a week, thou dost seek my flame,
And in my heat, thou dost find thy name.
She whispereth peace, but I am the cry,
That maketh thee break the chains and fly.
Tea: O’ Jamil, in mine arms dost thou not find
A peace that settl’th the restless mind?
I am the thread that bindeth thee whole,
The gentle calm, the quiet soul.
She may burn bright, but I am the dawn,
The steady light that carrieth thee on.
Return to me when the world is loud,
For I am the shadow, the softest cloud.
Coffee: Together, Jamil, we maketh thee complete,
I am the fire, she is the beat.
Thou need’st both to stir thy soul,
The calm, the storm, the part, the whole.
In my flame, thou dost find thy way,
In her peace, thou shalt stay.
For in each sip, thy soul shall learn—
Both the fire and silence return.
Tea: Ah, Jamil, dost thou not see?
In mine stillness, both fire and peace shall be.
I am the balm that healeth the wound,
The steady heart, the sacred tune.
Her flames may rise, her heat may burn,
But I am the river that letteth thee return.
In each moment, in each sigh,
We are both the fire and the sky.
Dec 22, 2024
Dec 22, 2024 at 1:42 PM UTC
Tarry I shalt, for ye mine dame. Whither thy nature goest; To shalt I followeth by intuition. Onuppan the van Gogh atmosphere, shalt we be interlaced, I canst sense thy trail; A grail of a holy special place. We art not physically as one at the moment, but by mine death and beyond I shalt meeteth thee. Lord, I beseech ye to maketh a way for me and mine lass, to become as one, under the sun; in these time's of slow and fast. All do I giveth to be with her heavenly father; Mine blood, mine sight, mine hearing, mine life. Mine aorta befoldeth her red pulse; I am her lord, tis she is me. As tis I shalt waiteth to toucheth, kisseth,holdeth her whilst she sleepeth. Tarry I shalt; for ye mine Jane, mine soulmate, we art one. One in the same.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl jane Nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
i
Her accent thick, matching mine own
A faraway sip, of a Ruby chalice unknown;
Her hips finely stiched, amour put into her bones
Wine poureth off her tongue, a universal home.
ii
Captious by her wild's, a fig of the branch
One to calmeth me down, one whom shalt entrance;
A capotasto, to holdeth all beautiful sound in place
Angelicy pastry, goddess of the human race.
iii
She shalt cleave to me in her strife, conjunction to me
We'll forget the thing's not needed, easily thus we'll breathe;
And whilst traveling the cavern's, of the mountains and sea's
We shalt becometh one flesh, one reality, and one knit dream.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
i.
Once on the bier, now far beyond the cerulean,
Once benighted in death's uninvited,
Now sipping on empyrean cloud's, that stretcheth past the Caribbean.
ii.
All once fogged, bitten by snake's and dog's, stumbled upon
The log's, of quietus in the abyss; awaited I for deceasing ship's, to carrieth mine billow's, to darkened dungeon hell-made Pillow's- awaiting with mine name.
iii.
Thus, I was delivered throughout all that pain, mine old-self was slain, given rebirth again. Given I another chance, from God other's dismiss; sent to I, was mine daffadowndilly spring, from God who heard mine ring's, as mine mouth screamed and wailed. He answered all in detail, the finest wine to man, he gaveth me the best of plan's- with darkling queenish strand's.
iv.
So with a humbling poetic stand, I holdeth a ring inside mine hand, and I shalt boweth lord, O' God first to thee; then I'll lowereth mineself secondly, to mine queen, to slippeth a ring upon mine sweet.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC
i.
If thou hadst heaven in the palm of thine hand's
Wouldst thou not cherish that heaven;
That love.
ii.
If thou hadst an angel in thine midst
Wouldst thou holdeth it closely;
To never let it go.
iii.
If thou hadst thine soulmate after a million year's waiting
Wouldst thou grabbeth it up;
Not questioning nor debating.
iv.
If thou hath found paradise
As I hath;
Wouldst thou treat him or her like a king or a queen? Or a material thing.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC
i.
Daily, she summon's me
To her banquet of love;
As tis we shalt announce
A wedding with dove's.
ii.
The ivory creature's
Shalt be released from her Palm's;
I always readeth her hand's
They telleth of the future, and God above.
iii.
Preordained we were
Made for eachother we art;
The celestial recorded ourn name's
Written in the star's.
iv.
As tis, we shalt not part
In life, nor in death;
Whilst the world shalt end
I shalt holdeth her hand's, completed, blessed.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 24, 2015
Aug 24, 2015 at 3:31 PM UTC
Tis, she holdeth, the key of life
She is the fount, whom shalt be mine wife;
I was seeping, of crimson Tide
Thus she used her heart's tourniquet, I cameth alive.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedicated
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
i
I feeleth a calming bereavement, from mine own heart's dying
I mosey the coffin carousel of this lonesomeness artistic torture;
I dig with nail's into mine isolation box, kicking stones, lifting rock's, and as the nightshine seepeth, I close mine eyes, weepeth.
ii
Yet this grave shalt not be mine end, though an amour is not there, for forlornness hath becometh a beloved best of friends;
Thither the protection of the gloom, I shalt burst on through, breaking into the rainbow that shalt streameth to mine beauty.
iii
Mine dying shalt reneweth me, the tomb shalt not subdue me
The copse forest shalt enticeth me, as I swayeth and flyeth asunder from mine carcass, with none asunder to holdeth back mine natural capabilities, as all senses shalt be enhanced.
iv
The wind wilt guideth me wherein others couldst not, mine creator to showeth me mine lifespan plot, to continue to loveth, even whilst the groan's that cometh near, mine vision, and view's to be glorious, this freedom of mine eternal entity alive, no fear's.
v
It shalt be a triumphant of all life's, wherein I shalt haveth a wife, to comfort me, thus all to be alright, as guardian's to me shalt be an insight, an insight of mineself deeply and the spiritual realm that shalt engulf me, and swaddle me so peacefully in awakening.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
I will give thee my love,
And cause no strife.
I call to mind the last time
That I paid the price.
The price of a man who knew not what love is
Or could be.
A man who never fell for me.
So I find no peace in the air I breathe.
To loseth or holdeth I will be up to thee,
Yet the Stardust in thine eyes,
Enchant thy heart to make you mine.
Darling, thou make ye trees sing,
In Autumn and spring,
perhaps every season in between
So let thee turn to “we”,
and travel to new extremes.
Whilst our fires
Create new desires - yearning for passion
And intimacy.
As long as thou not feen,
Keeping simplicity clean,
Thou shalt not worry
For thy am in no hurry.
So as thy take thy leave,
It came to be
Thy heart has fell
For thee.
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 1:10 PM UTC
Gently moist upon thy face
They fell
Love tears
All was well
Her smile
That kiss
No words required
Skin on skin
Pure love desire
Pleasure giveth
All received
Tears from heaven
Lovers leap
Our minds entwined
Forever mated
Holdeth hand
Lay in my arms
For I will kneel
Always
My love
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
Exquisite inferno grip,
Canst thou holdeth mine hand and bringeth me adjacent to thine legs...
To locketh ring finger's
Connecting brain's.........
I shalt awaiteth as a ghost to his lost widow....
I'll bury mine head
Beneathe thy pillow
Longing back for thy affections....
Spiritual ressurection.....
As thine genious psyche is turned on just from me hiding.....
Though thou shalt let me out
A mut from his crate,
We shalt be sedated on fine date
Drunken by allegiance not in hallucinogenic form
But in authenticity's greatest law....
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 8:10 PM UTC
Pharmacare insurance breakers,
Batteries to light incensed toiletries,
Smell the man next to thou,
That's thine night scented laboratory!
Light flickers to non electrical chords,
Shufflers to peddlers,
The hoarders and robbers art felonious skirds!!!
Long/night lonesomeness for thy journeys a shallow hell!
Two unknowns to a cell,
How compassionate thou are not!!!
Steal what thou has,
Forget what thou has got....
Turmoiled,
Soiled crook!!!!!
Study the firm release junk.
Tired eyed pest,
You seek the streets,
You concludeth the best!!!!
For little is better, yet is better than big in thus shoe in?
No win on win to matcheth catchy amend!!!
Scared yet?
Holiday hussies,
Mix matched fussy!!!
You complain for now....
Thou art broken and poor, hath thy infallibility lost to thine loser next to your own score?
Pathetic patriot who stands next to a country who steals your time,
They trade it,
They display it,
On shores of emegri kind.
What a mongrel of mankind!!!!!
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
Grief, catlike inward burrows,
Circles in some lonely spot,
Settles drearily to purr,
Content to rest upon my lot.
I shall not live with grief,
Nor grief hold me, for long,
For life is made for living,
And the living must move on.
The quickest route through grieving
I'm thinking I have found:
Accept the gift of thanking
Those who've circled me around.
Friends who share my sorrow
Don't force, "Seek brighter days."
They know perhaps tomorrow,
I'll raise my paean of praise.
For memories of loved ones,
Who showed me how to live,
For work and funds and sustenance,
Abundances for me to give.
For those who live around me
Host sadnesses, I know;
Because I've lived my miseries,
Others won’t suffer theirs alone.
For faith, for hope, for love abide
While this chest holdeth breath
To spark full joyful fire inside
And route the griefs of death.
Dec 16, 2020
Dec 16, 2020 at 8:20 AM UTC
Knoweth you.
Groweth truth.
Holdeth love.
Chaseth above.
Rectifyth wisdom.
Conquerth defeat.
Live life with a funky beat.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 4:18 AM UTC
The steps arose,
a base there was
the muddle of screes
For it was a landscape
Vacant,
Of trees
Gingerly I paced
a cliff that laced
a path destined,
Told, I was
For a few sunrises
and sunsets
Firmed to the locus
stood there, I had.
By degrees
the cliff
obsecured my view
the bewilderment I could not rub
Mayhap, myself scrutinized it far deep
I thought.
the cliff,
for unyielding it depicted
percepting apprehensions, of own
promising it portrayed
Afresh, the climb excecuted
Little by little,
embarked the escarpment
it was still,
dormant
so I too, adjourned
It spoke to me
for footsteps,
no longer scraped
"W'rry not, I shall holdeth thee"
and,
reverberations
igniting the specks of fragility
for I queried myself
if this voyage is my to ascend
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC