David Lewis Paget

Gold Star - 7,386 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

1001. The Ventriloquist 12/28/2011
1002. The Very Last Page 7/4/2013
1003. The Village Of Crone 3/23/2017
1004. The Village Of Ghosts 3/27/2017
1005. The Village Of Helsomewhere 1/26/2014
1006. The Village That Wasn'T There! 7/22/2014
1007. The Virus 1/29/2013
1008. The Visitant 2/8/2013
1009. The Visitor -new- 5/24/2017
1010. The Voice In The Upstairs Room 3/9/2014
1011. The Wages Of Sin 1/3/2015
1012. The Waif 4/14/2017
1013. The Wake 2/21/2015
1014. The Waker Of Dreams 7/21/2013
1015. The Warder Of Cruel Delight 2/24/2013
1016. The Watcher 1/20/2015
1017. The Watching Tree 9/1/2015
1018. The Water God 3/3/2013
1019. The Water Tower 9/18/2005
1020. The Waterways 10/20/2016
1021. The Web 10/12/2012
1022. The Wedding Of Jenny Mcgill 7/26/2008
1023. The Well Of The Water Sprite 6/23/2013
1024. The Whispering Wall 7/5/2014
1025. The Widow Crope 7/13/2015
1026. The Widow Hamm & The Love-Me Tree 4/16/2013
1027. The Widow In Black 5/19/2013
1028. The Widow Of Martin Black 3/13/2015
1029. The Will Of God 11/19/2014
1030. The Winding Path 3/1/2015
1031. The Winding Stair 8/16/2013
1032. The Winter Of Her Heart 1/10/2014
1033. The Wishing Well 5/2/2014
1034. The Witch & The Windmill 7/31/2013
1035. The Witch At Arbor Low 7/18/2012
1036. The Witch Of Aberdare 10/3/2014
1037. The Witch Of Dreams 2/18/2017
1038. The Witch Of Steen 4/8/2016
1039. The Witch Of The Morning 1/12/2017
1040. The Witch Of Willow Vale 1/29/2015
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

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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