David Lewis Paget

Veteran Poet - 1,730 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

761. Dutchman's Call 9/2/2008
762. Dunkirk 6/14/2008
763. Dreamscape 10/15/2012
764. Drama Queen 7/23/2014
765. Dragons 12/22/2005
766. Dragon Lake 1/15/2012
767. Dr. Horcas Quintessential Gypsy Merry-Go-Round 6/10/2013
768. Down & Out! 3/18/2013
769. Double Jeopardy 1/25/2015
770. Dorazamite 2/20/2014
771. Doppelgänger 9/7/2008
772. Don'T Let Me Die In China, Lord! 5/21/2006
773. Don'T Come Here Anymore! 12/2/2014
774. Dong Tou Dao 12/28/2007
775. Does She Stalk Pathways 9/17/2005
776. Do What You Will. 9/27/2007
777. Distance Never Lies! 9/28/2014
778. Dinner For Two 7/22/2012
779. Diabolick! 5/30/2010
780. Devil Sunday 1/5/2013
781. Deny, Deny! 11/11/2014
782. Delayed Judgement 12/10/2012
783. Death's Call 1/28/2009
784. Death Whispers In My Ear 8/24/2012
785. Death Of An Airman 9/30/2005
786. Death Is Stalking... 5/9/2013
787. Dead Man's Eyes 1/2/2015
788. Daydreams 9/22/2012
789. Daughters 3/4/2012
790. Dark Portents 10/14/2014
791. Dark Forces 9/17/2005
792. Dark Angels 8/15/2012
793. Dance With The Devil 9/27/2014
794. Czechmate! 6/22/2009
795. Cursed Voyage 1/20/2013
796. Crow! 5/18/2014
797. Crow Fly-Over Night 12/7/2014
798. Crossword 9/8/2014
799. Crossed Wires 5/17/2013
800. Crimson Dawn 12/23/2014
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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