Poetry Blog by Aly

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Marie Alyza on Coming home from Saturn (Sun, 24 Nov 2019 11:53 pm)

afishamongmany on Coming home from Saturn (Sun, 24 Nov 2019 09:45 pm)

Paul Sayer on Coming home from Saturn (Sat, 23 Nov 2019 05:25 pm)

Marie Alyza on Intersections and Timeline (Sun, 21 Apr 2019 05:23 pm)

Marie Alyza on Intersections and Timeline (Sun, 21 Apr 2019 05:22 pm)

Martin Elder on Intersections and Timeline (Sun, 21 Apr 2019 02:27 pm)

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Coming home from Saturn

Saturn doesn’t make things easy. It demands structure, discipline, and order. It governs old age along with the lessons it teaches us and it pays attention on how we manage our limitations. Above all, this ringed planet values growth and hard work.

It took me a while to recognize my own pain, but when I did, I have finally understood how to heal, and if I can be completely honest, it is not as ...

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It’s the way we danced together that I think I will always remember.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I’d wake up tossing and turning after another dream where you pulled me in to dance with you under the night sky. I’d close my eyes and lay there for a while, and I would remember the moments I traced your face with my fingertips as I watch you peacefully sleep. Sometimes you would wake u...

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Intersections and Timeline

Sometimes when I watch the city lights

slowly die to give way for the night,

or listen to songs you wrote about me

as I stand in the backroom window in my apartment,

I wonder if you’ve forgiven me

for all the times I didn’t love you as much

when you were still here with me holding my hands.


I know it has heen a busy couple of months

with everything happening all at onc...

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There are things that

I don't understand about us.

One is how can you tell me

that you love me

when all you want to do

is change me.


You started a forest fire

that destroyed my roots

and damaged my trees.

You built concrete walls and roads

until I could no longer recognize

myself in the mirror.

"This is for progress," you said,

but all it created was cal...

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In Love We Crash

At night in the office,

I watch you watch me.

The smell of coffee and vanilla

lingers like a cigarette stick

we refuse to finish.

We talk about love, life,

and all the boring intervals,

but we never really talk about us.


The coffee in the pantry

taste like old paper and broken promises.

I look at you across the elevator,

and think about all the things

that ...

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Best Friend

You were the Earth,

and I was the moon.

You were my world,

but I was just your satellite.


The dark spots in my face were scars

from catching and stealing

the sun's light

so I could brighten you up

during your darkest hours.

I spent my time revolving

around you so I could fix you,

but you couldn't see me

because you were too busy

chasing the sun.

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best friendlovepoemspilled ink

How Late Is Too Late?

Act I.
From twelve midnight to twilight,
I lie down on a blanket on the rooftop,
between a bottle of wine
and my father’s old typewriter.
I am growing too careful as I age,
so when you tell me that you love me,
I pretend I don’t feel the same.

Act II.
I am unfolding. I sit at the edge of the rooftop,
surrounded by city lights and white noises.
Thirty-seven desperate missed calls.

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Triptych #1: Coffee, Paper, and Storm

The coffee on the table is as cold
as my hands which shiver
like tree branches during a storm.
I can’t decide
if it’s too bitter or too sweet,
but I will drink it anyway.

I will write about you again,
but I know that’s not entirely true.
I will write about me too.
There will be no crumpled papers
on the floor
because even if this will turn out
as a poorly written poem,
I wi...

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