David Lewis Paget

Gold Star - 7,848 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

1081. Tick Tock! 12/10/2009
1082. Time Knows No Passages 9/17/2005
1083. Time Out! 3/16/2013
1084. Time Was... 2/26/2017
1085. To Bed! To Bed! 1/25/2015
1086. To Fox And Hounds 8/19/2015
1087. To My 7 Children 3/16/2009
1088. To My Wives 12/24/2007
1089. To Sleep, Perchance To Dream 3/25/2013
1090. Tongues Of Thorns 9/18/2005
1091. Tongue-Tied 3/14/2015
1092. Too Late 3/7/2017
1093. Too Many Women 9/21/2014
1094. Topsy Turvy 5/25/2014
1095. Toxic Assets 3/28/2009
1096. Trench Warfare 9/30/2005
1097. Trick Or Treat 10/31/2014
1098. Trip To Nowhere 6/20/2010
1099. Tunnel Love 9/18/2016
1100. Turn Of The Knife 12/28/2015
1101. Twenty Years Down - (The Beatles) 10/4/2005
1102. Twilight 4/11/2017
1103. Two Brothers 5/19/2017
1104. Two Hundred Years After Cook 9/28/2005
1105. Two Paths... 1/1/2015
1106. Two Pigeons 1/18/2014
1107. Two Steps Closer To Hell 2/25/2016
1108. Two To Choose 12/18/2016
1109. Uncle 2/1/2013
1110. Under The City Streets 3/14/2013
1111. Underneath The Ice 4/17/2012
1112. Unrequited 1/21/2017
1113. Up In The Attic 9/20/2012
1114. Vain Imaginings 9/18/2005
1115. Vanishing Point 11/9/2012
1116. Ve Haf Vays... 6/7/2009
1117. Voice In The Wind 9/4/2012
1118. Waiting For You! 10/18/2015
1119. Walking On Broken Glass 9/22/2016
1120. Walpurgisnacht 12/30/2012
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 Water Tower

I sit and stare at this empty page,
The wind howls long at the winter eaves,
The cloud is heavy, and black with rage
As squalls dance in through the myrtle leaves.

While deep inside in the cottage gloom
My love lies weary, cocooned in dreams,
I hear her cry in the darkened room
Call out one name from a nightmare scene.

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