David Lewis Paget

Gold Star - 6,514 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

121. Curling Horns 12/4/2016
122. Cursed Voyage 1/20/2013
123. Czechmate! 6/22/2009
124. Dance With The Devil 9/27/2014
125. Dark Angels 8/15/2012
126. Dark Forces 9/17/2005
127. Dark Portents 10/14/2014
128. Daughters 3/4/2012
129. Daydreams 9/22/2012
130. Dead Man's Eyes 1/2/2015
131. Deadly 10/19/2016
132. Death Is Stalking... 5/9/2013
133. Death Of An Airman 9/30/2005
134. Death Plunge 12/20/2016
135. Death Whispers In My Ear 8/24/2012
136. Death's Call 1/28/2009
137. Delayed Judgement 12/10/2012
138. Demon Eyes 12/13/2016
139. Deny, Deny! 11/11/2014
140. Devil Sunday 1/5/2013
141. Diabolick! 5/30/2010
142. Dinner For Two 7/22/2012
143. Distance Never Lies! 9/28/2014
144. Do What You Will. 9/27/2007
145. Doctor Bones 2/8/2016
146. Does She Stalk Pathways 9/17/2005
147. Dong Tou Dao 12/28/2007
148. Don'T Come Here Anymore! 12/2/2014
149. Don'T Let Me Die In China, Lord! 5/21/2006
150. Doppelgänger 9/7/2008
151. Dorazamite 2/20/2014
152. Double Jeopardy 1/25/2015
153. Down & Out! 3/18/2013
154. Dr. Horcas Quintessential Gypsy Merry-Go-Round 6/10/2013
155. Dragon Lake 1/15/2012
156. Dragons 12/22/2005
157. Drama Queen 7/23/2014
158. Dreamscape 10/15/2012
159. Dreamwake 2/3/2016
160. Drive By 4/26/2016
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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