David Lewis Paget

Veteran Poet - 1,854 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

41. Bed Of Roses 8/11/2014
42. Beddgelert - (Pron. Beth-Gelert) 2/8/2012
43. Before I Forget... 6/26/2006
44. Before Trafalgar 12/15/2014
45. Before We Part 9/30/2005
46. Behind The Hedge 5/4/2015
47. Bell, Book & Candle 12/21/2014
48. Bells And Motley 12/12/2014
49. Beside The River Wye 11/8/2014
50. Betrayed! 10/9/2012
51. Bibles 3/12/2006
52. Big Mack 8/26/2012
53. Black And White 6/3/2014
54. Black Gold 6/17/2012
55. Black Tide 2/4/2013
56. Black-Haired Girls 12/9/2005
57. Blake - (Before Birth) . 9/30/2005
58. Bleak Psychosis 2/17/2013
59. Blind Man's Buff 10/5/2012
60. Blood, Red Blood... 9/6/2014
61. Blue Mountain Coffee 12/18/2005
62. Body Swap 3/9/2015
63. Bones! 1/16/2009
64. Books & Nooks 4/5/2013
65. Born For Raising Hell! 10/4/2014
66. Buried Alive! 12/29/2009
67. Bush Meeting 2/22/2013
68. Butterflies 1/3/2015
69. By Miners Hands 9/18/2005
70. Byron Bay 10/12/2005
71. Castle Walls 9/18/2005
72. Catherine Gables 9/17/2005
73. Charlie's Room 3/19/2014
74. Chimneys Of Lime 10/4/2005
75. China 10/24/2005
76. China Blue 6/14/2012
77. China Song (Zhong Guo Ge Qu) 12/28/2007
78. Chinese Box 10/25/2008
79. Chinglish Ai 12/6/2006
80. Cliff House 11/18/2008
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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