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ally gunther Poems
I'm eyeballing the wrong girl, The noise and the splashes, Of a local swimming pool, So many people swimming,
Yellow boat, On the riverbed, Singled out- Shoot a flaming arrow,
Black raven, White dove
When it's black, Like the raven, The well is full, but full of what? My sun is shining in a half pale burst,
A white sheet of paper blows off in the wind, And slips by a face as blank as the paper, Where has he gone? What happened to his life?
An atom at birth, Unseen to some- It twirled and spun, Til' was left only none.
I don't recall the threshold- I don't I don't I don't, But maybe if I had, Maybe if I'd known you-
Such a pure painting, Was never truly white- Splotches of black and red
Dropping the nest
Been a baby so long Rockabye, Lullaby, Singing me songs of bliss,
And the afternoon cacophony, The breeze through the trees- The whistling of birds fighting over their food And the cyclists spurs creaking under the weight-
Three cards in a pack, One too many to stack, A red queen- Red for now.
The surface I see- A blank faced ghost, So very confused and unsure, With a flicker of flame
Days turn to nights, weeks to months and years. So easily time is flying past a blur in my memory. Seems only yesterday that we first met- and an hour ago you left. But if it were possible for my focus to shift- my hourglass to stop turning so that the world will stop spinning for a second- I would use my strength to forget you.
There’s nothing I can find, nothing to behold, A blank empty canvass when I think of you and it all, Sitting in my bedroom no one wonders why, a young teenage girl sits at her computer desk to cry.
Life, Love and Death; the three words that matter, Life gives to all, extends the invitation, It cares not what you look like and where you’ve come from, It just gives to you. It is your choice what you do with it, and only you will regret your decisions in the end, when life ends.
Comments about ally gunther
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
I'm eyeballing the wrong girl,
The noise and the splashes,
Of a local swimming pool,
So many people swimming,
But I'm not watching them-
I don't care who wins.
I'm looking at a girl,
An emotionally beautiful girl,
All my life I've been told of the white wedding,
And two kid dream-
A handsome husband,
For whom I'll cook and clean…
Back to the real-
I long for the softness,
The sweetness only she can provide-
And the mock innocence of the act itself,
Mock- being the word,
And I can't help but wonder when I show the ...