David Lewis Paget

Silver Star - 4,499 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

761. The Old Ones 2/22/2013
762. The Old Wife's Mood 9/18/2005
763. The Other Side Of The Coin 1/18/2014
764. The Owls In Chandler's Wood 10/10/2013
765. The Paper Girl 11/2/2014
766. The Parchment Scroll 10/8/2014
767. The Party Prank 10/5/2014
768. The Passing 11/24/2012
769. The Pearl 5/7/2015
770. The Pearls Of Verna Boone 8/10/2009
771. The Pen 9/29/2005
772. The Perennial Bachelor 4/17/2014
773. The Perfect Circle 4/13/2015
774. The Peterloo Massacre 9/21/2012
775. The Phantom Bus 1/6/2015
776. The Phone Call 8/20/2015
777. The Picnic In The Wood 7/5/2012
778. The Pier Of Dreams 1/5/2014
779. The Pilot Who Never Came Back 9/18/2012
780. The Pirate Brig & The Cove 3/24/2014
781. The Pitiless Knight 2/13/2013
782. The Plot 12/30/2008
783. The Poem 3/29/2013
784. The Poem Of Ellery Caine 5/14/2013
785. The Poetry Barn 11/22/2015
786. The Poetry Course 6/28/2012
787. The Port Of Dreams 3/7/2014
788. The Portrait Of Rachel Fayne 1/21/2010
789. The Pot Belly Stove 2/19/2014
790. The Practice Run 1/22/2014
791. The Prescient Vest 1/26/2014
792. The Press & Rickety Dan 9/21/2013
793. The Priest That Said Repent! 10/8/2013
794. The Primitive Painter 11/8/2013
795. The Prince In The Garden Shed 4/29/2014
796. The Proposal 5/14/2015
797. The Quest For Hieronymus Bosch 5/30/2015
798. The R.S.M. 2/23/2013
799. The Rag & Bone Man 5/28/2013
800. The Raggedy Man 6/23/2014
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

The Last Day

The earth had not been breathing
For an hour when I woke,
So the thought that I'd be leaving
Any time, became a joke,
There was not that faintest rustle
That we think to call a breeze,
When the leaves all rub together with
The swaying of the trees,
And the water lay in stagnant pools

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