David Lewis Paget

Gold Star - 8,586 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

361. Under The City Streets 3/14/2013
362. Time Out! 3/16/2013
363. The Census Taker 3/17/2013
364. Down & Out! 3/18/2013
365. The Caves Of Aklabadd 3/20/2013
366. The Baroness Von Hexe 3/25/2013
367. The Witching Days 3/25/2013
368. To Sleep, Perchance To Dream 3/25/2013
369. Rank Poison 3/27/2013
370. Ka-Poof! 3/28/2013
371. The Poem 3/29/2013
372. The Mouth Of The Oracle 3/30/2013
373. The Bell Tower 3/31/2013
374. If Only I'D Cared... 4/7/2013
375. The Duchess Of Faint Heart 4/9/2013
376. The Hermit & Martha's Well 4/10/2013
377. Waxwork 4/12/2013
378. Zombie 4/13/2013
379. The Widow Hamm & The Love-Me Tree 4/16/2013
380. The Rhymers Club 4/22/2013
381. She Who Knows All... 4/20/2013
382. Letitia 4/24/2013
383. Ganga Rok 4/25/2013
384. The Snake 4/27/2013
385. The Mudlarks 4/28/2013
386. Hello Jane! 5/2/2013
387. Death Is Stalking... 5/9/2013
388. The Duchess Of Kilbride 5/10/2013
389. The Poem Of Ellery Caine 5/14/2013
390. The Cove 5/15/2013
391. Fallen Angel 5/26/2013
392. Oliver's Head 5/26/2013
393. The Ghost Of Varley Scribbs 4/3/2013
394. The Vanishing Lake 4/4/2013
395. Books & Nooks 4/5/2013
396. The Man At The Back 6/4/2013
397. Evening Light 6/6/2013
398. The Back Of Whoknowswhere! 6/12/2013
399. The Ice Scream 6/14/2013
400. Apollo 19 6/16/2013
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

The Mantle Clock

I found I was left a mantle clock
The type that you wind by key,
It had stood upon my father's shelf,
Now it came down to me.
Inside the clock I had found a note
Scrawled in my father's hand,
‘You never must overwind the clock
For time is a shifting sand.'

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