"waiteth" poems
I miss mine homie,
Who in the world's name is homie? One mayeth ask.....
Well homie
Is mine old German Shepherd.....
Dad named him that
Funny yes I know.... Long story ....
And though I haveth many Angel's here on earth......
Homie,
Was mine true pet angel....
He always watched out for me when I was around nine years old.
And when one day,
At mine birthday party...
Mine friends tried to be OK with homie,
As me and homie were soulmates friend and being wise...
So mine friend's tried to feed homie through his fence hotdogs,
Like I did with no problem...
And mine old buddy Danny found out.
Homie didn't eat hot dog's
Unless I Gaveth them to him ....
Me, his best friend and soulmate!
Fed them to him....
As I saw homie ready to rip Danny's hand off...
I just chuckled and told homie...
Down boy down...
Homie always listened...
He was mine soulmate....
My do I miss mine homie...
As I remembered one day coming home from school...
Mum picking me up from that young learning center,
She said son I got something to tell thee,
On the way home...
(Yes mum)
I said...
Well,
Homie died
I found him whilst thou was at school son...
( said mum)
I couldn't say nothing
I think I just said really?
As mum told me
He was found in his doghouse
Curled up
Dead.....
I questioned her?
Where is he mother?
Wherein did thou layeth his body mum?
I asked....
She told me she had taken him to some place about fifteen minutes away,
And buried him in some wood's....
I wasn't angry with her.
Nor even father,
I was hurt because I didint get to see his body...
I was hurt because I told mother and father all the time...
Bring him INSIDE!!!!!!
When it got cold...
As I remember it was cold
And snowing when he died........
Yes I understood homie was a big dog
And couldst be a little wild at times....
Though we had a basement
With rooms in that basement
And couldst haveth put a cage down there....
So I felt horrible I didint just bring him in
Even though they thought it was fine to stay outside
During winter......
Mum thought he was poisoned
By someone putting something in his food....
My opinion is he died alone,
When I was gone,
And froze to death....
Don't like thinking of it...
I just miss him to mine soul!!!!!!!!!
I forgive mum and dad not angry,
Just canst waiteth to see mine angel again...
R.I.P homie baby boy...
See you in heaven (:
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
One writes, that "Other friends remain,"
That "Loss is common to the race"--
And common is the commonplace,
And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
That loss is common would not make
My own less bitter, rather more.
Too common! Never morning wore
To evening, but some heart did break.
O father, wheresoe'er thou be,
Who pledgest now thy gallant son,
A shot, ere half thy draught be done,
Hath still'd the life that beat from thee.
O mother, praying God will save
Thy sailor,--while thy head is bow'd,
His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud
Drops in his vast and wandering grave.
Ye know no more than I who wrought
At that last hour to please him well;
Who mused on all I had to tell,
And something written, something thought;
Expecting still his advent home;
And ever met him on his way
With wishes, thinking, "here to-day,"
Or "here to-morrow will he come."
O somewhere, meek, unconscious dove,
That sitteth ranging golden hair;
And glad to find thyself so fair,
Poor child, that waiteth for thy love!
For now her father's chimney glows
In expectation of a guest;
And thinking "this will please him best,"
She takes a riband or a rose;
For he will see them on to-night;
And with the thought her colour burns;
And, having left the glass, she turns
Once more to set a ringlet right;
And, even when she turn'd, the curse
Had fallen, and her future Lord
Was drown'd in passing thro' the ford,
Or kill'd in falling from his horse.
O what to her shall be the end?
And what to me remains of good?
To her, perpetual maidenhood,
And unto me no second friend.
1.8k
i
Mother, I seeith thine pain, in thine own depression
Mother, thou hath given me life, I'm thy and God's invention;
Mother, thy halo thou weareth shineth so brightly to me
Turned fifty three yesterday, but mum, thou still looketh 23.
ii
Mother, thou art now getting in thine own golden year's
Mother, when they maketh fun of me, thou dryeth mine tear's;
Mother, I shouldst hath listened, when thou saidst I'd be hurt
Mother, thou taught me forgiving and love is what life's worth!
iii
Mother, mine best friend, and past life caregiver to me
Mother, thou was right, its mine light other's just canst not seeith;
Mother, I knoweth thou art worried for mine physical health
Mother, if something happen's, I promise to waiteth for thyself.
iv
Mother, we've cometh along way, as thou hath seen me in cell's
Mother, I've seen thou to, in pits of doom,behind glass I yelled;
Mother, hell and back we've cometh from, seeing the world end
Mother, as thou helpeth me groweth, I'll helpeth thee to friend.
v
Mother, shadow of mine, musical muse, and gods divine
Mother, we've made mistakes, with no brakes to stop the mind;
Mother, tommorrow if either of us shalt loose ourn last breathe
Mother, sorry little late on the birthday writing, but thou art best.
Love thy son
Brandon cory nagley
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Juna nagley birthday dedication
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
I watched a rosebud very long
Brought on by dew and sun and shower,
Waiting to see the perfect flower:
Then, when I thought it should be strong,
It opened at the matin hour
And fell at even-song.
I watched a nest from day to day,
A green nest full of pleasant shade,
Wherein three speckled eggs were laid:
But when they should have hatched in May,
The two old birds had grown afraid
Or tired, and flew away.
Then in my wrath I broke the bough
That I had tended so with care,
Hoping its scent should fill the air;
I crushed the eggs, not heeding how
Their ancient promise had been fair:
I would have vengeance now.
But the dead branch spoke from the sod,
And the eggs answered me again:
Because we failed dost thou complain?
Is thy wrath just? And what if God,
Who waiteth for thy fruits in vain,
Should also take the rod?
1.5k
i
Sophisticated not as metal-steel mechanic's
Not a domestic to gargoyle theology
She's a seraph, who only knoweth pure.
ii
The Luna to her is her finer amare
The DNA of life passes through her hair
As she playeth truth and dare with her own self.
iii
She seeketh none help, a woman of God
Foresee's the hero's from slob's
As men around her mob, like a desert after dinner!
iv
Though sorry boy's she's mine
I claimed her long ago
When this palace was broken by lazor night show, I held her...
v
She's tender as a flower
Tis I waiteth for her throughout the hour's
The coward's do try her, to hurt her, yet I wilt never break someone so tender....
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Elsa angelica dedication
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Mine Jane
O' mine jane;
How I canst not waiteth
To seeith thine face.
Mine Jane
O' godly jane;
Ourn bones shalt locketh
Inside, between ourn hand's.
Mine Jane
O' darling jane;
When we do meeteth
I shalt removeth thine old stain's.
Mine Jane
O' angelic jane;
Douse me in thy slaver
Showeth me that amour, thou hath written on paper.
Mine Jane
O' **** Jane;
Bringeth thine leg's closer
Maketh me beg, pull the blonde on mine head, be the chauffeur.
Mine Jane
O' goddess jane;
Throweth me down, back to the ground
Jump on me, childplay.
Mine jane
O' Filipino Jane;
Calleth mine name
I'll yet back louder, us both bursting in hott flame's.
Mine Jane
O' masterpiece jane;
No word's, hush love
Taketh me again.
Mine Jane
O' mine Filipino rose;
Who careth what other's think
The whole world already knoweth.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 5:02 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.
Mine Filipino rose
Didst thou knoweth;
When thou art gone
Mine worry doth showeth.
ii.
Mine Filipino rose
Doth thou understand;
I'll waiteth for thee
Forever to be, in thine arm's and hand's.
iii.
Mine Filipino rose
Mine angelic being of glow;
Meeteth me at the show
In the kingdom of ourn endearment abode.
iv.
Mine Filipino rose
When thou art not near;
Mine stresses and mine fear's
Bringeth sorrow and tear's.
v.
Mine Filipino rose
As thou knoweth, we aren't an illusion;
We art conspicuous in ourn fusion
Forgiveth the jealous one's of their intrusion's.
Mine Filipino rose..........................
I loveth thee more, mine Reyna......
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 22, 2015
Aug 22, 2015 at 7:41 AM UTC
Amperage of connections fallen out and lost
No carnival party to revive.
Ashore astronomical beholders vision,
A needle through the rich man's eye!!!!
Camilla scents,
Canopied distinguished in canistered tents.......
Century carols confine the interstate mind!!!
Circulation is impatient wherein clots block chloroform vine's....
Wed-lock intensifiers waiteth to be fed,
Trapped,
Packed,
Chained to their beds....
Hath thou lost thyself yet???
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 11:59 AM 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 knoweth I'm in love;
Whenever mine Reyna's gone, mine thought's of her never end
I knoweth I'm in love;
When mine queen start's crying, mine soul feeleth as dying death
I knoweth I'm in love;
When I goeth to sayest one word, and mine rose completeth it
I knoweth I'm in love;
Mine eye's art shut, picturing mine lass on the side of mine waist
I knoweth I'm in love;
When it's her eye's I seeketh to look into, to tasteth her taste
I knoweth im in love;
We sing to eachother, turneth on one another, Melodie's in peace
I knoweth I'm in love;
I'll waiteth a thousand, million, billion, quadrillion, forever
I knoweth I'm in love;
She maketh me smile, laugh, happy, dance, do thing's I don't do
I knoweth I'm in love;
She's inspiring, always reminding me, of an amour so true
I knoweth I'm in love;
When I breathe, tis her breathe, every second is best, with her
I knoweth I'm in love;
With her I'm in heaven, the world I do forget, chariot of celestial's
I knoweth I'm in love;
The star's rest on her back, the moon her head, the sun her lip's
I knoweth I'm in love;
She attract's me in all way's, tis she's mine night and day, light
I knoweth I'm in love;
We art one spirit, one abode, one all, one at home
I knoweth im in love;
She alway's forgiveth me, as tis, I alway's forgiveth her
I knoweth were in love;
When she sayest back, " I loveth thee most, I sayest " ME MORE".
I knoweth I'm in love..........
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 8:44 PM UTC
i.
Eight thousand, four hundred and twenty four
Miles away;
I shalt waiteth a million lifetime's
To be in her arm's, tis her I crave.
ii.
Tis, I shan't never get sick of her
She alway's bringeth in the new;
Mine convivial consoler is alway's there
When I'm bleeding, feeling blue.
iii.
I canst surely count on her
Evident is her affection's;
Whence was going astray
Her glow now point's me in right direction.
iv.
So when the old serpent
Creep's his horned visage;
I knoweth mine safety, is with mine Reyna
Sweet Jane, her arm's as pinion's, her spirit from God.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 12:57 PM UTC
i.
I wilt plunge neath thine cocoa covered pupil's,
I seeketh to succumb, to thee;
Mine poetess minstrel;
ii.
I wilt incessantly be patient for thee
Mine queen; O' how heavily this heart weigh's;
With thou so far, so far away.
iii.
Please cometh quickly mine amour', for thee I'm engraved,
Etched into thine bone's, thy skin, thy name;
iv.
We art not other's, not the "norm", not the same: for this heart burneth in flame's, O' with thee far away;
v.
If I dieth tonight, or the earth crisps away, please knoweth I'll still waiteth, for thee mine queen; Beyond the grave.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane nagley ( Filipino rose) dedication
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 5:43 PM UTC
i.
He dreameth of her
In her extrasolar land;
He pen's for her gracefully
She waiteth for him,
By her foreign bedstand.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedication
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC
If I must waiteth one thousand millenniums
I'll wait a million more
For mi amour,
I'll hangeth around like a romantic antependium......
If I must be just a friend
As she wanteth,
I'll continue as that.
Because ourn love is unearhtly....
I shalt not walketh away
Or find another
No need to gaze for one
When we haveth eachother....
And if I haveth to telleth the queen
Mine love over and over again.
I shalt continue to do so,
Even if she only wants me as a friend!!!
And though still friends
I know it's much more,
For tis shes not others,
For she's mine mi amour'...
And when doubts shalt rattle
And pound to her door,
I'll kick those DEMON'S out
With a poem for her every second...!!!!!
Tis every second
Every minute
Every hour
Every day
Every year
Every last breathe I haveth I WILT POUR MINE HEART OUT ON THIS SITE LIKE NOONES EVER SEEN OR KNOWN!!!!!!!
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
He dreameth of her
In her extrasolar land;
He pen's for her gracefully
She waiteth for him,
By her foreign bedstand.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 9:42 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
I shalt waiteth
One billion years
One billion fears
One billion tears
To haveth mine (mi amour')
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
Kindness
Affections
Listening
Hearing
Seeing
Believing
No lies
None deceiving
Smiles
Help
Souls
For one self
Kisses
Locking fingers
Two bees
Intimate stingers
Dinner
Massage
Candles on window seal
Wind to hit ourn backs
Rain to paint the peel
Closely
Divine
No minutes
No time
Free souls
One mind
No deaf
None blind
Rub her neck
Caress her shoulder's
Tender her feet
By oil and corner
To peck her collar
To stroke her hair
To pull it gentle
In her dispair
In all repair
In bad and the good
To be each others karma
None misunderstood
To show eachother proudly
To the humans and beasts
To make vigils of ourn love
Yet still alive in the keep
To dance ourn own jig
And smile to the sun
Wherein demons are all trampled
By ourn loving smoking gun
To make love passionately
Wild to
To pull me down
To make primal sound
As fire ignites a stew
A pounding to the wall
Behind grabbing hips
As secrecy is none
Ourn home is fun play bliss
The ocean to be ourn doormat
The clouds to be ourn steps
I waiteth on mine queen
Or
Tis
Ill have nothing left!!!
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
i
Beelzebub, oh Beelzebub, was thou so foolish to turneth from god
Thineself was the highest angel, leading now thy devilish flock;
What was thou thinking? Oh foolish one? To tryeth to be thy god
Thou tried to be the one who created thee, now kicked down here
ii
Lucifer oh Lucifer, thou was made in his image, not him thy own
Now thou hateth, now thou taketh, what thy greediness hath left;
Satan oh Satan thine blaspheming brute, where art thou now?
Art thou killing? Looting, and causing misery for the world's suit?
iii
Bearer of light, oh bearer of false light, I've seen thy face at night
Bearer of false promises that mankind follows, I canst waiteth to see thy works cast into the flame, and for thee again to be chained, with the rest of the hellion with thee in Hell's shallow.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
When wanting realness,
How long must one waiteth?
When trying to show one thy love daily,
How long until they see it in full spectrum?
Forever lingering in lonely patience...
Tis
Tis
Such lonesome patience!!!
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
Oh that thou wouldest rend the heavens, that thou wouldest come down,
that the mountains might flow down at thy presence, as when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the waters to boil, to make thy name known
to thine adversaries, that the nations may tremble at thy presence! When thou didst terrible things which we looked not for, thou camest down, the mountains flowed down at thy presence.
For since the beginning of the world men have not heard, nor perceived by the ear, neither hath the eye seen, O God, beside thee, what he hath prepared for him that waiteth for him. Thou meetest him that rejoiceth and worketh righteousness, those that remember thee in thy ways: behold, thou art wroth; for we have sinned: in those is continuance, and we shall be saved.
But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away. And there is none that calleth upon thy name, that stirreth
up himself to take hold of thee: for thou hast hid thy face from us, and hast consumed us, because of our iniquities.
But now, O LORD, thou art our father; we are the clay, and thou our potter; and we all are the work of thy hand. Be not wroth very sore, O LORD, neither remember iniquity for ever: behold, see, we beseech thee, we are all thy people. Thy holy cities are a wilderness, Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem a desolation. Our holy and our beautiful house, where our fathers praised thee, is burned up with fire: and all our pleasant things are laid waste.
Wilt thou refrain thyself for these things, O LORD? wilt thou hold thy peace, and afflict us very sore?
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 1:17 PM UTC
Tis
Tis
Tis
Whilst I waiteth for mi amour'
I
Go
CRAZED!!!!!!
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Once an age in the land of oblivion
On the lap of time dwells everybeing
Such today and no tomorrow
Eras,regimes,generations and tenures
Comes and flew
A supernatural sentforth a great valour
To save the puzzle of 'time'
But after so much toil
The great valour becomes a old gallant
And at the verge of death
Where, no where but his home a necropolis will be.
He gave an inked leafy scroll to a young lad
To yield to the supernatural who claim unscathed or aged
But will be after centuries.
Rather the parchment reads;
"Time is not thine neither mine
The little thing in it space line
Turns fate around so fine
Even a feather to a cone pine
It waiteth not
And can never fall shot
With its little finger so short
Great things come forth
It permiteth not excuse
And doesn't care why you're confused
Yes it does produce your muse
If you don't with it make a fuse
Misusing time in a slight,
Lost the trip which needed a flight
Or rather gone chance to a greater height
After all the work and plight.
THE ILL AND HEAL REST IN TIME
©Adeyi_Mary_Mayomikun
Feb 11, 2021
Feb 11, 2021 at 5:40 PM UTC