Galialay

Your Neighborhood Lesbian

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Literature

The Cloud Picker

He stands atop the ladder Swaying gently in the breeze The little girl holds still To ensure he does not fall Watching as he reaches up Taller now than the trees Softly, gently, carefully A net so long in hand He plucks a little bit of cloud And rain trickles from the sky A drop landing on her nose Her face wrinkling with glee The ladder sways with the wind He motions her to focus And reaches up to pluck again The clouds shift farther West Now just beyond his reach Climbing down, they chase the clouds To collect a little more Tonight he'll have her mother sew The cloud into pillows They'll sleep so well dreaming sweet With their heads in the

Poetry

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The Cloud Picker by Galialay, literature

Literature

The Cloud Picker

To be honest by Galialay, literature

Literature

To be honest

To be honest with you I want to hug the girl that I love Until everything's better And we can breathe again if only sigh I want to lie down in bed Curled beneath the blankets While mommy and daddy Chase the monsters away The way they used to when I was five But life is not so nice Despite this we must stand tall Look our foes in the eyes And lie saying "I am not scared" All the while shaking to our very core Not knowing if we'll even make it through alive

Slowly falls Sweet Chickadee by Galialay, literature

Death by Galialay, literature

Sugar water repair by Galialay, literature

Literature

Sugar water repair

Glass heart repaired With sugar water More fragile now Than was before Held gently in The wary hands An eye kept close Keeping lookout Sees the dangers But does not hide Broken glass held For winds to shape The sun rains down On tired faces Heart once shattered Never the same But will love on Despite the pain Soon forgotten All the fresh pain Two faces meet In promised kiss

Twice a day by Galialay, literature

A rather dark poem about a rabbit by Galialay, literature

Literature

A rather dark poem about a rabbit

Run home rabbit as fast you can Your family's dead by hunter's hound The kids are gone ran fast for fear The burrow burned to ashy ground Your wife taken for lucky feet Sorry to say her luck ran out Run home rabbit as fast you can They're after you and will not stop The water in the kettle's on And fire burns to make your stew Snapping as your heart races The hounds have you trapped in corner Run home rabbit as fast you can Your family's dead your time is up The kids are gone caught up in nets The burrow burned to halt escape Your wife taken to feed hunters Sorry to say your luck ran out

The Epic of the Seed by Galialay, literature

Literature

The Epic of the Seed

Days long ago There was a seed Ignorant to The world beneath The forest green Promised great life Seen all around Trees touching skies Dropped from high boughs Onto hard ground Was trampled deep By all who passed Their hardened soles Shoved the poor seed Beneath the earth Without a care Let all alone Without the sun Quickly forgot The star's sweet warmth When rainstorms came And drowned the soil Was thought for sure To be the end - The little seed Grew sick of such The waters stayed And threatened life Want now for air The seed's shell broke And water seeped Drowning the seed Pushing with all It had to give

There is a room by Galialay, literature

Literature

There is a room

There is a room A secret place Deep within me I guard it well And store in it My true being So scared and weak Easily hurt For lock and key With walls of steel It will not fall Nor ever crack The door sealed tight For years so long Like a princess Inside tall tower Kept from the world At great distance Yet even so You found a way To break the vault And made way to The inner core No easy feat Stubborn headed Prepare yourself I hope you know What waits ahead She wears her heart Upon blind sleeves Your reward is This sphere of glass I call my heart It's been so long Since last was held By one not I Please guar

Writing a story by Galialay, literature

Literature

Writing a story

Writing a story In my perception Is kind of like Stumbling upon A stranded though Colorful bit of Fabric or scrap As time goes on I find more scraps Of different colors And new design Some sides match up With others senseless My duty to make A blanket from these I take up thread In my bent needles Begin working slowly To make edges meet The ends are loose Sometimes frayed so Defiantly though I keep this work up Until I behold A finished blanket My blanket is lumpy With forced stitches And holes abound From mismatched scraps Some see my blanket And turn in disgust It lacks the coherence Of a professional sew Bu

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