David Lewis Paget

Gold Star - 4,699 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

1. Black Dog Night -new- 8/26/2016
2. A Winter's Tale -new- 8/23/2016
3. Keeper Of The Light 1/2/2016
4. The Tree That Wouldn't Shut Up! 1/4/2016
5. The Slag Heap 1/8/2016
6. The Feather Quill 1/12/2016
7. The Graveyard Stones 1/19/2016
8. Cock O' The North 1/25/2016
9. The Dance Of The Leaftaking 1/30/2016
10. Dreamwake 2/3/2016
11. Doctor Bones 2/8/2016
12. Planetary Wiz 2/13/2016
13. Strangers 2/18/2016
14. Bon Voyage 2/23/2016
15. Two Steps Closer To Hell 2/25/2016
16. Wedlock 3/1/2016
17. The Black Dog Run 3/3/2016
18. The House In The Lane 11/4/2015
19. A Question Of Faith 11/10/2015
20. Goblin Dell 11/11/2015
21. The Abbot's Loft 11/13/2015
22. The Poetry Barn 11/22/2015
23. Into The Light 11/22/2015
24. Crossing The Bridge 11/24/2015
25. The Monster & The Candle 12/2/2015
26. The Conquistador 12/6/2015
27. Guardians Of The Chest 12/12/2015
28. Slither And Scale 12/15/2015
29. Waiting For You! 10/18/2015
30. Black Goth 10/19/2015
31. The Second-Hand Gown 12/24/2015
32. The Jacaranda Tree 3/11/2016
33. Whispering Walls 3/21/2016
34. Lost Moment 3/22/2016
35. Bad Cess 4/3/2016
36. The Witch Of Steen 4/8/2016
37. Sticks & Stones 4/12/2016
38. The Bride Of Storm 4/17/2016
39. The Gas Lamp Ghost 4/24/2016
40. Drive By 4/26/2016
Best Poem of David Lewis Paget

Swan Song

Her hair was as black as a starling's tail,
Her cheeks as pale as a swan,
Her eyes, like two slim moonstones, glowed
And her mouth was the Holy Grail.
She'd played in the dirt of the village street
So long ago, so long...
She'd swum in the pools of the mountain stream,
But now, that girl had gone.

While I still rise with the early bird
To tend to my father's fields,
As the only son of an only son
I watched the woman leave.
She cried sweet tears as she said farewell
And vowed to come back, and soon,
But the village streets of a western ...

Read the full of Swan Song

Spirit

‘I died early, ’ said the Spirit,
‘So I didn’t have the chance to learn,
And though I don’t exactly burn
With envy for your thirty years,
It’s such a pity dying young,
The pleasures of a youth, unsung…
For all I left behind of me
Were memories of my mother’s pain
In birth and death,

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