Poems by Alyson Mays
Our Journey
When you found me,
I was upon my knees.
So despairing and broken,
I couldn't speak.
You picked me up,
right out of the rough.
Held me so tightly,
that I couldn't breathe.
I remember how you looked, with tears in your eyes.
When night after night,
I whimpered and cried.
But you held tighter,
pushing me out of the night.
When the light blinded me, you were my guide.
These days I'm healing,
the pain isn't the same.
You're the one who owes me, those promises you made.
Now it's you my love,
needing to be held up.
Weary under the weight,
of all of our stuff.
I'll hold you tighter, pushing you higher,
right up into the light,
I'll be your guide.
Ghost
I laugh,
seeing you ride the milky way.
From across the waves of Venus,
I wait for you,
in a black hole of eternity.
Where lifetimes are instantaneous,
and bodies stretch into forever.
So I reach for immortality,
and dance the time away.
Dreaming of you in your place,
feeling as free as a wrinkle in time.
I have laughed with you,
under Saturn's rings.
Now I wait for you here.
To slip out of time,
and into my arms again.
My Darkest Hour
Such a smooth race to nowhere.
A cold walk out onto the rocks,
far out into the mist of the sea.
Wind whipping past me,
as if to hold me in place.
Like a sign from God.
The one I'm trying to disgrace.
I lean out further,
arms stretched out wide.
Sad, I have no tears left to cry.
I close my eyes to listen.
Waves grapple with the shoreline.
Birds argue with gusts of wind.
My hair is tangling itself up.
Now he is here to take me home.
I will whimper myself to sleep.
Such sweet relief in sleep,
dare I hope to never awaken?
Spring Fever
The voices are back, under my skin.
Screaming and shrieking,'Let the fun begin!'.
The wickedness of summer, is almost upon us.
Let us get naked and wet, dirty and hot.
Dancing and romancing, the season of sin.
Spring is for love, and things pure of heart.
Summer is for pleasures, of the purely physical sort.
I can barely stand the wait, for the music to begin.
Pumping a steady rhythm, through my withered veins.
When Tigerlilies Grew Wild
I.
breaking the surface
brave spears of beauty
frost glimmering
II.
rain puddling now
slender quivering limbs
bent with heavy buds
III.
petals are flaming
unexpected roadside show
competing with dusk
IV.
buried in leaves
overwhelmed by it all
retreating till spring
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Biographical sketch: I am a 24 year old nurses aide, and university
biology major. I live on Canada's east coast. I have been writing for
12 years.
Alyson Mays recommends:
Sound and Sense by Laurence Perrine
Reason: It is merely a schoolbook from the fifties. My favourite
english teacher left it to me when she died. It was her way of telling
me to write, and that I was capable of being more than a science student.
The book itself is great as a reference tool.
Recommendations for writers:
I always start either trying to capture a feeling, or a moment
or a perspective on reality. Then I edit for errors, especially in order.
My mind tends not to expunge its verse in chronological order. My main
objectives for writing are to convey an authentic, striking yet simple
image. I do not believe that poetry should be above the understanding
of most people. Convoluted intellectual elitism doesn't impress me.
