"rideth" poems
SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my Lady rideth!
Each that draws is a swan or a dove,
And well the car Love guideth.
As she goes, all hearts do duty
Unto her beauty;
And enamour'd do wish, so they might
But enjoy such a sight,
That they still were to run by her side,
Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.
Do but look on her eyes, they do light
All that Love's world compriseth!
Do but look on her hair, it is bright
As Love's star when it riseth!
Do but mark, her forehead's smoother
Than words that soothe her;
And from her arch'd brows such a grace
Sheds itself through the face,
As alone there triumphs to the life
All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife.
Have you seen but a bright lily grow
Before rude hands have touch'd it?
Have you mark'd but the fall of the snow
Before the soil hath smutch'd it?
Have you felt the wool of ******
Or swan's down ever?
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier,
Or the nard in the fire?
Or have tasted the bag of the bee?
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she!
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Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach Thy hand,
For I am drowning in a stormier sea
Than Simon on Thy lake of Galilee:
The wine of life is spilt upon the sand,
My heart is as some famine-murdered land
Whence all good things have perished utterly,
And well I know my soul in Hell must lie
If I this night before God’s throne should stand.
‘He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase,
Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name
From morn to noon on Carmel’s smitten height.’
Nay, peace, I shall behold, before the night,
The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame,
The wounded hands, the weary human face.
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i.
Skaidrum, we art lost in the whirlpool galaxy
Thou art far-flung from thy king, me from mine queen;
We hath not much time to get back to planet earth
A black holes in the distance, a new star's birth.
ii.
Skaidrum, friend; no sunlight is to surround us
This place is dusk, how I misseth mine sweet jane;
We hath enough food for a week, and one day's gain
If I were thou, I'd telleth thy king thou loveth him again.
iii.
Mine lass wilt be looking for me, how cold I feeleth
In this spaceship were in, I need Jane's warmth, her tint;
Skaidrum, the nebula's art all around, though no portal to get back home, I prayeth we seeith ourn love's soon.
iv.
Dear Poet, Sir Brandon, Sharpen thy tongue for war
Vigilant stars harbor no pity for separated lovers liketh us,
Lady Jane's lamentation becomes mournful gravity to thee;
Darkness swallows the four corners of mine heart.
v.
Pay no heed to the distances, death; how certainly welcome
As we rideth greek constellations, legends, and vagabonds.
I will bid thou safe travels, poetic wishes, universal footprints;
As thee descend upon the sky ladder to thou's lover.
vi.
I shall followeth in due time, I hear not mine king calling.
Patience goes hand n' hand with deliverance,
In our path of starlit misery; we embarked together as poets
Adieu for now sir Brandon, part with nightsong wings.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets Poetry
©Duo poem by me brandon nagley and Skaidrum
©Skaidrum
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
i.
Feral escapees, from captivity,
Created with wing's, born to
Be free; not of society.
ii.
Jungle madness, surroundeth
The tree's, foliage of wed-lock,
Thou and me.
iii.
Accentor's creepeth the thicket,
Caples we rideth, babes of the
Cariole; astrology inside us.
iv.
Bimarian aqua, to overfloodeth
The dry, boscaresque detail's;
Rainbow's in open sky's.
v.
Brabreum of a sound,
Musical citharize; I'm
Far aloft the ground,
Psychic's; clairvoyant's
On incline.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedicated
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
A man! From whose Godly image, cometh he, from sand;
A mortal engine! Proud son of the earth and the starry heavens;
A wandering soul, cursed to rule the seas and land;
Lord of beasts that roam and roar, and a sky filled with Ravens;
A sparkling light at tunnel's end, in seasons of strive;
Like sunrise, he cometh with hope from the eastern skies;
Like darkness, never to be found wanting where evil thrives;
A harbinger of doom, the soul behind Gaea's cry;
A Viking in chainmail saileth, Oh! I see a damsel in distress;
A Knight in shining armor rideth, Oh! I see Princess feeble;
Lean on me, saith the Wolf, while i slay thine enemies with my prowess;
A white sheep teareth, into the flesh of our lady of brittle;
Me' lady! seeketh not, the man out there in thy dream;
For all the gods, all the heavens and, hell, is within him.
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 11:50 AM UTC
O paranormal venue, I glance for thy direction
Wherein art thou? Cleaning up for God's inspection;
Art thou hidden? Beneath the moon and stars?
Art thou broken? Unnoticed? Thy heart like me on mar's.
O lost amour', mine soul searches the shore's
Dying daily, not seeking a Maby;
For one I rideth the beam's of color string's
For a hopeless romantic, I do plore.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC