"southeastern" poems
i.
Duchess of the still splendor,
Southeastern wind of the faraway;
Prestige of foreign king's and Queen's,
O' fair lass on display.
ii.
I'm here mine love,
Verily, I'm not going away;
The moon must taste ourn shadow's,
As we pirouette the starry plains.
iii.
Tablet's wilt recordeth us
By ourn handprint's with
Ourn name's; the flambeau
Is warm mi amour', please
pirouette with me again.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley ( Filipino rose) dedicated
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
You were trying to cover your footprints in the sand
and only ended up leaving more
a spiral of your perfectionism
look over there -
over the beach houses on stilts
and the fauna - scrap metal bushes and dry, lonely trees -
see how the sun’s kiss sets the sky on fire?
the water is licking our heels with an icy, arctic tongue
we could walk westwards until our silhouettes are vaporized
but the sand is relaxed and this beach is empty
the acoustic guitar is talking in its sleep
ADD children are doing backflips in the backyard
Night crashes and crashes and recedes into the horizon
we climbed atop one another with visions of lunar satisfaction
time slows down and each drop of condensation on the window
contains the secrets of this muggy southeastern air
the strangers are encroaching too thick to think
warped monstrous faces ripe with desire
we couldn’t answer the questions so we burned the test
tinder to our fire so we could ward off the predators for another night
but the ground is growing smaller day by day
Mr. Demon do not deviate from this round of double dutch
my shoelaces are tied together
and I am hopelessly drunk off of your ideas on romance
that mix of sunscreen, sweat, perfume, and your breath
as my fingers prune
we mistook the blinking jet engine for morse code from the stars
once the clouds part we will have an escape route
taking flight with the startled panic of street birds
the earth will shake, the seas boil over, and the clouds will applaud
with wings made of coat hangers, brown paper bags, and masking tape
we will arr through the sky
like fireworks
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 1:55 PM UTC
Lakewood Fairgrounds in '68 , Southeastern Fair has come again , in awe at every turn , magical , mystery , in view of Atlanta......
Caramel apples , cotton candy , corn dogs and dill pickles ........
Natural wonders and clowns on stilts , barbecue sandwiches and licorice whips .......
******* jacks and carnival music , a haunted house and fireworks at night , Ferris wheel , merry go round ,ring rubber ducks for a prize..
Milk cows and barkers , horses pulling wagons , popcorn and milk duds , Cocoa Cola and peanut brittle !! .........................
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
Watching car grills shimmering in the Southeastern sun
Listening to music with my mind on pause.
Jumping out of cars and walking home on my own
I see a tall blonde woman and a short black man walking home
She's holding her shoes, he's stumbling.
And I'm home before I know it, peeling my velvet jacket off, taking a long shower...
I listen to the music again,
Because it's always there.
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC
Give me **** kicking string pickers
give me harmonica headgear
and bluegrass heroines
Give me the Southeastern porch nights
beneath stars which flicker like wind burdened candles
Give me you - swaying lazily to the rhythm of cicadas
toss me to Atlantic shores
the geography of this passion knows no borders
Give me your flaws to toss as skipping stones
the sun outside bears down on us like
infinite overzealous mothers
but the ground is nothing but black ice
slowly melting into midday
by this time tomorrow the trees will dance with life
rainbows spouting from lonely buds clinging to long dead limbs
Give me the picturesque green lawns of academia
reaching out to caress the breeze
Give me overcrowded coffee tables
and long talks about nothing with good friends
Just know - that if you could give me Christmas
I’d spend 12 days writing you 12 thank you notes
each one more genuine than the last
Give me all of this
Give me none of this
either way I will give you
as much of myself as I can
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
Matthew Scott Harris (the second offspring and only son of
Boyce and the late Harriet Harris) made his unheralded debut on
a brutally cold January thirteenth almost three score years ago.
His father - employed as a mechanical engineer with general
electric heard the powerful lungs of this gangly newborn prior to
being permitted to cradle said infant.
Born in Cincinnati, Ohio, this sole son spent the majority of his
fifty plus LIX existence within southeastern Montgomery County
Pennsylvania.
Extreme shyness in tandem with a congenital speech defect
(submucous cleft palate) seemed to alienate him from other class
mates.
As an outside neutral observer, I watched with gut when
ching agony how he seemed socially detached and rarely invited
to join in any reindeer games, rather mean kids balled their fists
and swung faux pas sucker punches to sleigh **** shay -
so they did say.
Yes, a gross degree of taunting left him without friends.
Lack of confidence and ultra reticence offered hue manna
tee to bullies.
Matter of fact, this vulnerability, and susceptibility per
receiving verbal slings continued thru public education.
He graduated without any vocational idea (despite an ignoble
attempt to fail - and yet got promoted nonetheless), and then
endured parental wrath equal ultimatums with a scathing expletive
filled lectures.
The absence of clear-cut goals found him enrolling and with
drawing from countless colleges and/or universities.
Delay with interpersonal success accompanied like a dark
shadow creeping closer to the edge of night.
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 4:00 PM UTC
My eyes open in the dim light
You are not there
Old engine oil in my ears
and red tape on the walls and the
Peephole
I am in every cheap hotel across the country
Anything could be outside of my door
I could be in a small town in Idaho
An inlet on the coastal northwestern shore
Minutes from the beach on the southeastern coast
The glorious place where the plains give way to mesas
I am all those places
the ones I've been and will go to someday
Scouting
Searching
Finding my way back to you
Before the diesel fills my mind
And my thoughts leave the rest of me behind
And so at the designated hour
My movement will be swift
My stillness will be complete
Non-doing
Ever prepared
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
I found a treasure box that filled with dusks
that doesn't have a golds or diamonds on it,
but got a simple antiquated photographs
that displayed what occurred on my past life.
The rainbow by refraction of the sun's rays
the times that there's no great challenges
positivity is just living at heart of my personify—
illusory of hope's beauty can make me satisfy.
The star that origin from the southeastern part
the vis-à-vis of waking up and talk to my friends,
counting one to ten while my eyes are closed
seeking their wonderful visages with a curve.
Those flowers in the yard that starts to bloom,
taking it and say he loves me or he loves me not
while eating some soil and collecting the petals,
marked a colourful stains on my vesture.
The moon's gloom that guide me to my home
after a almost a day of playing out-of-door,
and everything will start again tomorrow
but all of what happened is now a part of yore.
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 11:14 PM UTC
*I was gamesmanship incarnate ,
a shrimper off the Savannah shore ,
a cannoneer in the fury of maritime battle ,
a flautist calling troops to formation ,
Atop the highest ferris wheel ,
imbibing cool waters from the Big Dipper ,
scaling the Horseshoe Nebula ,
leading a fire wagon into the inferno ,
submarining the darkened abyss
Under the cover of shellfire , outflanking
a Napoleonic commander
Belaying the tallest mountainside
with cool , calculated reserve* ..
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 10:38 PM UTC
To age is to harbor memories in the oddest places; a design, a time of day, a color.
Aging is the unsettling experience of hearing a song from a decade ago
And having your mind still register it as a recent chart-topper.
When cantaloupe tastes of southeastern shores and washed up conchs
And flatbread reeks of the expensive dinners had during poolside nights at hotels.
When daybreak touches your face
And you’re hit with the scents and sounds of another morning, a morning long past...
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
(whose video powerfully, profoundly, and
positively affected this southeastern residing
Pennsylvania papa)!
Afflicted with Cystic Fibrosis since her birth
contagious exuberance, gung-ho,
infectious jubilance noah dearth
which eye opening (then tearing)
podcast link sent tummy
FaceBook account,
she distilled and
didst poignantly blog the
purpose driven life,
no matter...hmm...
her existential time
nearing thee finis
line on planet Earth
though upworthy defying
deathly clasp of grim reaper,
who scythe lent
lee doth await
she (titled lass of poem) established
a substantial supportive network,
via such an up
beat aura, charisma,
persona, et cetera create
ting global bond sans,
world wide web, aye equate
chance lucky opportunity
to witness airily especial
and gutsy acceptance
of her (congenital) grim fate
while this healthy
(as an oxymoron) lix
spit tilling chap doth hate
sweaty palms (a minor,
though tolerable inconvenience)
versus being irate
at an accursed disease
still no cure as of late,
yet...state of
the art revolutionary treatments
provide longevity, and... YES
possibility to discover a mate
though consigning severe limitations
but...WOW, that girl (unknown
til yesterday) doth narrate
positivity, which amazing
will power didst permeate,
within thine noggin
triggering sincere flowing tears
bursting forth at an unstoppable rate
hence this attempted rye
ming livingsocial tribute
to go for broke
esprit de corps elan trait
completing a bucket list
while eternal sleep will wait!
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 3:58 PM UTC
twenty toes deep in daytona sand
i asked her if she'd stay
all night with me
and let me be her man
she shaded her eyes against
the southeastern sun with her hand
grinned and said never
but i know the dunes
shift with the wind
the pendulum swings to
and kronk pulled the lever
so i drove real slow
down the dusty sunset coast
and she straddled my arm
along those winding limestone roads
and bounced all the way
back to her daddy's farm
i've never been this wet
is what she whispered
with her tongue on my chest
and i really liked her style
she meant the rain coming
thru the open window
if i had to guess
and so we stayed like that awhile
now i'm still hiding out from the curse
and i don't even miss her much
just a few hundred tons worth
but some stones are better
left unturned
Mar 7, 2024
Mar 7, 2024 at 9:34 AM UTC
wont get a red cent from me
(explained by following words you see)
No...not until the
bitter cold temperature,
sans iron maiden
(Polar Vortex) grips
Southeastern Montgomery County
(Perkiomen Valley) Pennsylvania
will this foo fighting
goo goo doll, beastie boy - hips
stir survivalist
wannabe contemplate
cracking on the heat,
no matter mine lips
might turn me, and
false teeth chatter
(even after taking them
out of my mouth)
as the mercury dips
way below degrees
(Centigrade, Fahrenheit,
or Kelvin) oh Lord
will passing thought eclipse
penumbra of mine
cerebral cortex reckon eyes,
the benefits to future
cryogenicists voluntarily becoming
(a frozen human
Guinea Pig) realize
zing molecular biochemical
behavior practically
comes to a stand
still, I surmise,
which cessation of
ordinary senescence buys
time until some
future age, when scientists
long since didst devise
strategies to approach immortality,
(viz keeping "live" body
electric factory completely
preserved), and get wise
to hidden secret to exorcize
death be not
proud, thus putting
funeral parlors out of business,
which astute morticians who espies
the future, and how
the quaint practice,
asper burial plots
(oh...so yesteryear),
and dramatically dies
down quickly giving rise
to the burgeoning enterprise
re: bajillion dollar franchise,
where death cab for cutie
offers ***** prize
a coffin (grateful dead set)
"feign" to eulogize.
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 1:40 AM UTC