David Lewis Paget

Bronze Star - 2,897 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

David Lewis Paget Poems

121. Dinner For Two 7/22/2012
122. Distance Never Lies! 9/28/2014
123. Do What You Will. 9/27/2007
124. Does She Stalk Pathways 9/17/2005
125. Dong Tou Dao 12/28/2007
126. Don'T Come Here Anymore! 12/2/2014
127. Don'T Let Me Die In China, Lord! 5/21/2006
128. Doppelgänger 9/7/2008
129. Dorazamite 2/20/2014
130. Double Jeopardy 1/25/2015
131. Down & Out! 3/18/2013
132. Dr. Horcas Quintessential Gypsy Merry-Go-Round 6/10/2013
133. Dragon Lake 1/15/2012
134. Dragons 12/22/2005
135. Drama Queen 7/23/2014
136. Dreamscape 10/15/2012
137. Dunkirk 6/14/2008
138. Dutchman's Call 9/2/2008
139. Dyes Cast 9/18/2005
140. Early Morning Call 9/18/2005
141. Earwigs! 11/6/2008
142. Elegy For A Poet 7/23/2008
143. Emily's Twenty-First 7/29/2013
144. Empty Words 3/24/2014
145. End Game 5/6/2013
146. End It! 10/30/2013
147. End Of A Rat 12/16/2012
148. End Of The Dream 1/15/2013
149. Eternal Youth 7/8/2012
150. Evening Light 6/6/2013
151. Fair Exchange 11/15/2012
152. Falconridge 10/24/2013
153. Fallen Angel 5/26/2013
154. Family History 12/25/2008
155. Family Secret 11/9/2014
156. Family Skeleton 10/16/2013
157. Family Ties 10/9/2013
158. Farewell, Dick! 8/18/2009
159. Fateful Morning! 6/5/2010
160. Father & Son 9/27/2007
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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