David Lewis Paget

Gold Star - 4,974 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

1001. Waters Into Wine 9/17/2005
1002. Wattle & Daub 6/3/2009
1003. Waxwork 4/12/2013
1004. Wedlock 3/1/2016
1005. Well We Might 9/18/2005
1006. What Happened To The Day? 10/17/2008
1007. What Happens? 12/26/2014
1008. What's In A Name? 5/7/2008
1009. When Our Days Are Minutes... 9/17/2005
1010. When Peggity Pulled The Cord 5/16/2013
1011. When The Welsh Of Wales Go Home 9/18/2005
1012. Where Are The Birds Of Wenzhou, Bei Bei 11/8/2005
1013. While I Write And Breathe... 3/8/2008
1014. Whispering Walls 3/21/2016
1015. White Horses 9/18/2005
1016. Who Cares? 9/30/2005
1017. Why Does My Faith... 10/23/2007
1018. Widdershins 6/20/2012
1019. Winter Comes... 3/15/2008
1020. Woman 3/30/2008
1021. Woman In Black 11/4/2012
1022. Woman In Child 9/18/2005
1023. Woman Of Stone 3/15/2012
1024. Wood Men 1/25/2013
1025. Words 9/30/2005
1026. Would He Even Know Me Now? 3/4/2008
1027. Wrong Mountain! 12/18/2014
1028. Wry! 11/6/2009
1029. Www. 6/9/2008
1030. Wych Elm 9/18/2005
1031. Yellow Moss 8/15/2016
1032. Yesterdays Lost 2/11/2013
1033. Yggdrasil 10/27/2009
1034. You Can'T Come In! 7/17/2014
1035. You Can'T Go Out Today! 10/4/2013
1036. You Were Only Talking... 2/22/2008
1037. You'Ve Got Magic! 4/30/2009
1038. Zanzibar! 12/14/2014
1039. Zombie 4/13/2013
1040. Zorga's Gate 7/27/2013
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,

[Report Error]