"smileth" poems
At whiles (yea oftentimes) I muse over
The quality of anguish that is mine
Through Love: then pity makes my voice to pine
Saying, 'Is any else thus, anywhere?'
Love smileth me, whose strength is ill to bear;
So that of all my life is left no sigh
Except one thought; and that, because 'tis thine,
Leaves not the body but abideth there.
And then if I, whom other aid forsook,
Would aid myself, and innocent of art
Would fain have sight of thee as a last hope,
No sooner do I lift mine eyes to look
Than the blood seems as shaken from my heart,
And all my pulses beat at once and stop.
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If 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth graciously on silence's table,
and studyeth mine own evolved, yet un-evolv'd self,
undisturbed, unhurried, un-agitated,
by w'rld's brightest gulf
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth comf'rtably on peace's table,
and gaze mine own wounded, yet un-wound'd self,
un-agitated, un-deviated, unmoved,
by w'rld's s'rry self
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth calmly on agony's table,
and obs'rve mine own painful, yet not painful self,
unmoved, undaunted, unleashed,
by w'rld's weirdest self,
. and smileth backeth, as i seeth myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
i'd sitteth fain on glee's table,
with mine own eyes smiling, and smiling at myself,
unaffected, unguarded, unremitted,
by w'rld's unrequit'd self
. and grineth backeth, at myself.
if 't be true i ev'r befall to meeteth myself,
twill forsooth beest a did bless, contending miracle,
as yond's at which hour i couldst pateth & greeteth myself,
in real, in real, in real!
and maketh this fact p'rceivable,
yond our w'rld may sure oft hest struggles,
and our m're existence in t,
may just beest negligible,
but we nev'r gotta f'rget
to stayeth hopeful, smileth and giggle,
nay matt'r how hard the struggles,
as yond's the most wondrous fuel,
yond can oft causeth miracles,
in a w'rld,
so obsess'd with struggles!
And then with a sigheth,
a blooming grineth,
yet a sparkling desire within,
i'll did bid myself,
a farewell
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
Shalt I sing a song for thee?
To maketh thee feeleth like heaven
shalt I maketh the world quite quaint for thee
To sense thee the serenity!
Oh divine soul!
Thee art an angel on the earth.
I knoweth no lovely verses.
Spread thy wings in the ope sky
Its for thee. For thee to fly!
Quite quaint moon in the silent night
Its for thee for dreams of thy eyes!
Adorable and greatest worth
Oh divine soul
Thee art an angel on earth.
Most precious is thy smileth
I'd capture still to liveth mine life.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
i.
Detained, I am not
Enslaved in chain's;
I've broken those long ago;
Twas I was loosed,
By mine Earl Jane.
Mine Zion
Mine nirvana
From God.
ii.
Abandon her I shan't
She's the aye, in wholesome array;
Filipino by morn', winged one born,
Atop her green mountain view way.
Her baguette flake's falleth from her spanned plumule shadowy shade: whilst I kiss her feet, mine joyous tear's cleaneth her toe's, whilst on mine knee's, she smileth at me, whilst I sayest " I loveth thee more" she argue's back its her most.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication ( filipino rose)
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 9:36 AM UTC
i.
Mine forefinger is tapping the olden transelic piano Key's,
The room Grecian white, with an oriental shorite; her voice
Is soft, her halo's aloft the lid of mine musical box. As tis I playeth "Unchained Melody"'by the Righteous Brothers, ourn pupil's art jubilant; soulmates igniting together. Brandon! Brandon!
ii.
She calleth out mine name.
The aria gets louder,
The habitation wherein we liveth,
Smileth upon us;
As affections groweth fonder.
iii.
Ourn flesh wrapped like nests,
Of a bird's home in wonder.
Gazing up into the the hereafter,
One day happiness there we to shalt
Conquer.
iv.
As mine angelic host
Lift's me up to the celestial yonder;
I heareth her feather's flapping with the cherub's,
Ourn amour splitting sky's, as lightning with the thunder.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( agapi mou) dedication
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
~
*Hear me, and heed my woe,
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
how thy smileth reaches
thy eyen and
crinkles the c'rn'rs
immensely.
Thy confidence, a flame
yond burneth with f'rvent might,
intimidating, yet draweth me in,
as moth to candle's lighteth.
Thy passion is contagious,
thy excitement a thrill,
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
but mem'ries ling'r still
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
as thee gazeth into mine own eyen
bef're our lips meeteth
our intimate moments,
a sensual rapture,
thy corse, a w'rk of art,
sculpt'd p'rfectly in all its
muscular stature
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
the way we w're,
young with a future,
we couldst not seeth.
What ifs and maybes,
a maze, i tryeth to escapeth,
longing f'r what couldst've been,
a heart yond acheth.
Ev'ry fare thee well,
a pang in mine own chest,
feareth of nev'r seeing thee again,
and all yond is repress'd
Thy absence, a weight
yond i doth striveth to shaketh,
wond'ring wh're thou art,
what thou dost maketh.
Art thou joyous, art thou free from careth?
i tryeth to not bethink on Thee …
yet some days, 'tis hard to beareth.
In sooth,
i am not depress'd,
n'r doth i feeleth the blues, wh'reupon
i f'rce myself to not bethink on Thee …
by mineth owneth shall, anon.*
~
Aug 30, 2025
Aug 30, 2025 at 9:29 AM UTC
Oh How I loveth thee
A quite quaint angel in my own eyes.
With dark and white broken wings.
Und'r ****** falls.
I shall waiteth, and comf'rt thee.
Liekth thee loveth thy beareth.
Until the endeth of p'riod.
A hoarse voice with angelic tone.
Haer like the colours of my chameleon.
The tend tender lips of loveth.
A smileth and mind of ambivalence.
I shall loveth with nay judgment.
A halo as bright as the mistress
Possesseth in humans death's-head.
The lukewarm blue chopt lips.
The sleep chamber the lady did lie upon.
H'r ilness, but I accepteth death.
I can kisseth with green valor breath.
The strength of a giant.
The nimbleness of a lilliputian fairy.
Thee can doth aught.
Yon can crustheth and slipeth.
Through the cracks of timeth.
Thee can beest fell'r joyous.
Liketh the visage of a monst'r
I loveth thee f'r who is't thou art.
Thee can beest the wild animal with scars.
mine own canine ears ope to hark.
Thee can has't warts liketh a toad.
A belly as big as the univ'rse.
I shalt beest a fath'r.
thee can has't barb'd wire on thy corse.
My chivalrous armour does not mind thy pain.
Thee believeth chivalry is gone.
Somewh're on the planet, 'r in the heavens above.
Sickl'd by the grim reap'rs ploy.
The apparition 'r man you love.
I'm the pap'r thee loveth at which hour thy depress'd
The smileth thee misseth.
I am thy sir'r knave at heart.
I'm the knight thee wanteth me to best.
The lasteth sir standing at the edge of the w'rld with thee.
Thy the only ***** I protecteth, and loveth f'rev'r.
I give you can seeth how I loveth thee.
This poem was written by Shane Michael Cleary at 12:42 2017 on June 30th.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 2:35 PM UTC
When she taketh on all the pain and all the hurt from the world,
Her tears art mine night time....
Whenever she smileth and canst be that little Spanish happy girl,
Her happiness is mine daylight divine...
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Elsa Angelica dedication
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
No worst hast thou done,
yet no worse than I...
Forsaken for mine sin, for which thither art many...
Cast off from thy valorous grace, for I am owed nothing but mine penance unto thee...
Thine smileth and favour I am yet to winneth again...
For thy divine light to breath life into thy soul...
For all that I has't done and the sins I am yet to commit...
Mercy beest upon me...
For I still carryeth the glimmer of thy fire in mine heart.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC