Aly OMalley: Favorites

Jan 2021 Aly OMalley

shipwreck

Jan 2021 Aly OMalley

just-a-little-bird

shipwreck

My life- everything i have done- is becoming debris.
Fine, then.
I will sing in the wreckage

Nov 2020 Aly OMalley

You Have a Purpose

Nov 2020 Aly OMalley

Abram T Miller

You Have a Purpose

So many people,
            So many places,
              So many
Roads.
We weren't brought by
             Chance,
     Not by luck,

          But
By
              God.
Where ever you are,
     Who ever you are,
Your there
                 For
         A
                              Reason.
You may think
           You have no
            Purpose.
          But
You
       Are
          Wrong.
         What is your
              Purpose?
             It's
                     Unknown
       But to
                       God.
Live your life
    Knowing that
       You
              Have
                        A
                           Purpose.
That You are
               Meant
                        To
                    Be
           Where you are.

Nov 2020 Aly OMalley

A New Life

Nov 2020 Aly OMalley

Abram T Miller

A New Life

Everything can change in a blink of an eye.
Football,
Wrestling,
Sports in general.
All gone in a blink of an eye.
All because I chose to be one place instead of another.
My life will never be the same.
Why?
I don't know.
Should I treat this with sadness?
Should I put this on others?
What good will that do?
No,
I will bring joy in a time of grief.
I will bring happiness to any room,
Change people by the way I act.
I will always be a changed man.
After all,
I shouldn't be alive.
God spared me that fateful day.
I don't know why,
But all I know is that I have a greater purpose in life.
Greater than myself.
I've been spared to do something great.
So something great I will do.

Aug 2011 Aly OMalley

Not Forgotten

Aug 2011 Aly OMalley

Abram T Miller

Not Forgotten

Friends are not forever,
only the special ones are.
I don't want to be the one forgotten,
I don't want to forget you.

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

Grandma

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

Paula Swanson

Grandma

Tears
and rain,
sit upon
my eyelashes.
One shows my pain, one washes it away.

The grey clouds are one with my breaking heart.
Shedding their pain
in tune with
my souls
cry

To
accept
that Grandma
is leaving me,
is easier to say than to live through.

Each slowing beat of her heart pierces me.
My second mom,
my best friend,
dying
now.

Her
grace and
wisdom will
stay with me still.
I am, today, the woman she molded.

Touching so many, giving of herself.
Angel on earth,
soon to be
going
home.

This is written in the poetic form of "Tetractys" The scheme is a syllable count of 1,2,3,4,10...then reverse the count 10,4,3,2,1 and so on

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

What would a frog want?

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

Francis Scudellari

What would a frog want?

Ever-after wishing
for magical

transformations, and
one to follow

closely by the book,
she rolls up lace sleeves,

plunging icy hands
down into pond's brown

murk, with a talent
for fetching out.

Finger-wrapped, fearing
pursed leather lips,

her slime-green captive
gives its squirmy croak:

"What would a frog
want to do with you?"

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

I have no faith in these hills.

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

S.R Devaste

I have no faith in these hills.

I have no faith in these hills.
They are too green, the colors to deep.
At night when the fireflies dance under
almost-ripe grape vines tangled in earth,
I wait for them to disappear.

I can feel myself forgetting the smell
of the sun-dried roses and half-cleaned out fire places
the smoke of wood and ash,
the strange bugs I find on my damp towels.

I can taste the blue of those far away hills
smell the red of the ancient brick of
faraway conclaves of ancient cities.
But I already forget their names.

I watch the rain tumble down the hills covered with cobblestones.
it's midas's touch deepening the colors of the stones, the fossils of labor.
I listen to the sounds a mountain makes when it cries, nursing it's million year wounds.
The green river never stops pouring through it.
But I can't remember the cause of its sorrow.

But I know the cause of mine.
I will leave these hills.
And paint them into a postcard.
or a poem.

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

Tears of the Bluest Moon

Aug 2010 Aly OMalley

Neva Flores Varga Smith

Tears of the Bluest Moon

Captivating radiance streams from the glowing reinforcement
Satisfying the anchoring of the bluest moon
Appealing to celestial spheres with such delightful notions
Reflecting off the glass of a bottomless lagoon

Swirling kisses of lighted jubilance dance upon the waves
Sweetly admiring the gratifying view
Tasting all the glints of teardrops falling from his face
Transparent as the crystal fallen dew

Angelic faces with wings of gossamer appear upon the glow
Staring up wistfully at the bluest moon
Wondering if he cried because the sun had left his side
When she disappeared behind a sandy dune

An enthralling music filled the air from the wings of gossamer
Singing truth to the tears of the bluest moon
Words of heavenly delight filled his aching soul that night
Reassurance he found in their tune

The captivating radiance still streams from the glowing
Yet the bluest moon cries there no more
See the bluest hue disappear with all the glints of tears
As he watches for his sun from the shore

Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
www.changefulstorm.blogspot.com
www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/Changefulstorm

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