I used to gather
where the bridge crossed the bay
Pausing in the ebb of
the changing tide .
I tried to capture
the moment of the ebb's decay

She came to me
with soft words of call
Left messages saying
she's not sure about it at all

The sea follows the
ways we know not
our separation was complete
we left our ancient past behind
to tread upon this land
on our own two feet

Shake the dust from your call
dress the shadows
make the sun fall
words of deliverence
wet the tongue's
parchment and thirst

The tide remains constant
demanding , relevant
with unrelenting presence
It is married to the bay
In a never ending struggle
of give and take

cave of wonder,
the black ivies of the sea,
the moon-shadows of
the shore.

Everyone wants to have
The look of the poet
Yet noone these day's,
Wants to be real poet's....
Everyone wants to be a rock star
Or movie star.
Or even an athlete.....
But the poet,
Is one not of this world...
A poet
Is one unearhtly
Celestial in his way's.....
A poet doesn't follow the paths of this world......
The poet followeth his soul,
Which cometh from God....
And no rock star
Or athlete,
Couldst match up to that....


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry