David Lewis Paget

Veteran Poet - 1,753 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

1. A Blank Page 3/20/2015
2. A Christmas Gift 12/3/2013
3. A Christmas Tale 12/5/2014
4. A Letter From Bedlam 12/5/2014
5. A Life Of Nothing Much 4/9/2014
6. A Long, Long Walk By The Lake 8/3/2014
7. A Long, Long Way From Home 3/28/2015
8. A Lover's Verse 11/19/2008
9. A Paupers Parable 7/31/2008
10. A Penny For The Guy 12/6/2009
11. A Viking Morality Tale 7/16/2008
12. A Walk In The Park 11/15/2013
13. A Welsh Hymn 9/18/2005
14. Admiral Nelson 4/8/2009
15. After The Comet 10/2/2008
16. Aftermath 9/28/2005
17. Age Rage 10/4/2012
18. Al Cobdogla's Hearse 7/14/2012
19. Alisa 1/23/2013
20. All Hallows Eve 10/25/2014
21. Ampitherium 6/18/2009
22. An Old Love 1/30/2015
23. Angel Dust 8/26/2014
24. Angel Head 9/17/2005
25. Angels 8/6/2013
26. Anon. 2/18/2013
27. Anzac Cove 5/21/2013
28. Apollo 19 6/16/2013
29. Armada 10/19/2009
30. As You Like It 7/28/2013
31. At Eaglehawk Neck 9/18/2005
32. At Journey's End 3/5/2009
33. Audition 10/12/2005
34. Auto-Da-Fé 1/4/2015
35. Bad Blood 9/30/2005
36. Bad Christmas! 12/24/2014
37. Barton Leas 3/14/2009
38. Bats In The Belfry 7/16/2014
39. Beached Morning 9/17/2005
40. Bed & The Wardrobe 1/18/2015
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

Sir John De Vere

Sir John de Vere has took a quill
And set himself to sit and write
The sweetest love that is of men
To take unto his heart's delight.

And he has took a damsel fair
That flitteth by, beseemingly,
And with a strand of golden hair
Begun to weave her mystery.

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