I was happy being a mountain range
Admired by those wishing to explore
One day I caught sight of quite a beauty
This mountain range made me eager
To explore peaks and run down slopes
Feel every dip and groove of rough terrain
And find my way through every cave
I want these plates beneath me to quake
So that my range can be with your range
Let me be the snow that covers you whole
To feel myself melt in your warmth
Say you'll have me and give into desire
Allow my prints on your wonderful earth
For the future explorers to envy
Maybe then my yearning for you will cease
Or maybe I'll stay exploring forever

It was almost spring here,
the purple light snuck in
cutting the overcast sky
and the venetian blinds.

The last snow lay out in the yard
slowly melting there
like something sad
but also something beautiful.

My kitten crawled up under my arm,
she lay her little head in my lap,
stretching out her paws
and yawning the way cats often do.

Soon it will be dark
but for now I live in the twilight
almost spring, almost night,
almost alive and almost dead.

Lady night offers her generosity
as the stars twinkle in syncopation for me.
Shadow-clad silhouettes...
Their gaits mysterious.
The night lights trail into the depths of my eyes.
Burning away the seconds, so effortless.

The quietness...
Willing forth dishevelled reflections...
Of unkempt emotions.
Allowing a barrage...
Of thoughts and notions that span
over night and day.

So that they could...
Be conveyed through paper and screen.
So that I could...
Share with you what I intimately mean.
The unforgiving onslaught of ideas and feelings
I bravely conjured...
But too afraid to say.

The dove has flown away into whiteness,
The doe filled with an unborn verse.
Live, little poem- yet to be written-
And the words gnaw away like a dark wolf.

The eye of the world is on you,
The ink is drowning on my page.
The pearl of thought escaping
My oblivion born into a dark innocence.

Little poem yet to born
Up from the nightingale's journey
Into a subtle abundance,
Like an invasion of white lilies.

From my graveyard of angelic thoughts,
Flowing like a blind star,
The creature that is born
Like the Apple untouched in Eden.

Valentine of mine, quempress of the sublime,
Oriedjewel of the Filipino pool's, afire art mine
Eye's; to the ray's of thine beams.
This heart-shaped package is
Thy own, pull the string's;
And kiss mine being,
Touch mine breath.
Layest thine head
Upon mine *****,
Caress mine neck.
Unsharae with me,
A serenade fit for a king and queen,
Wherein the after-hours of moonlight desires, maketh
Budded roses and flower's out of thou and me. Mistaglare,
O' in season's fair; mine Valentine, mine love unwind, soak into mine bubble's, as the liquid wine. I'll stroke thy skin, thou wilt
Tour mine mind, as valentines shalt be felt, between ourn blood
Combined. Heaven's line's shalt be crossed by us, the sound's of Harp's, til' dawn and dusk. Perfumed pearly gates, therein fountain's gush. Ourn amour explodes, rainbow gold, freely spirit's, next to God's own throne. Telepathy as telephones, manor's with lantern's, heated ember glow. This the place wherein angel's roam, a place unknown; to unwelcomed guest's. A banquet full of peacefulness, none forgetfulness, as ourn satisfaction is apart of the attraction, O' how we conquer the valentenic terrain.


©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( filipino rose)