But everyone sees
The real you beneath your subtle smile you wear.
A true reflection of the memory I have.
Of the way we once were.

-

Sleepless Summer Nights
Disturbed I toss and turn on a troubled night.
Salty and sultry during the heatwaves bite.
Chasing away demons who hunt this space.
Between sleep and alive their chosen place.
I see your form under a white candle wick sheet.
Curved and perfect you sweetly sleep.
Unbeknownst to the hellhounds who claw at my feet.
Silent and peaceful she defies the nocturne heat.
Only disturbed slumber is burnished with such a curse.
From I’ll health and deep seated sadness to the pressures on the purse.
I chase them from deprivation whilst I seek your comforting hand.
And take shelter in your caresses and I’m swallowed by loves quicksand.
And when sleep finally overwhelms me and I drift under you candlewick sheet.
I banish the demons and hellhounds to be silent till the next time we meet.
Chris OMalley

-

Bronzed As A Berry
She sat cultivating freckles in the summer sun.
Soothing the heat with the rim pulled down.
Ambre Solaire coated, soaking up the rays.
Bronzed as a berry in the midday blaze.
Cooked on one side now it’s time for her back.
Unhooking her bikini strap to avoid a white track.
Glistening like wet leather under gas mark number ten.
Sun kissed and crispy she will top up the front again.
Yes she’s heard of melanoma and the direct sunlight risk.
But she happy under the midday sun, worshiping the golden disk.
No words can guide into shade or cover her fragile layer.
She’s the Coco Chanel of Swansea Bay.
And for the sun she’s it’s main purveyor.
Chris OMalley

-

The mystery of the ancients unfolded before your eyes.
As the wrappings of time are removed to reveal the wonders of her demise.
Revealed, your timeless beauty, hidden by the sands.
Whilst your words are strewn upon your walls put there by ancient hands.
Then preserved in regal reverence in tribute to your reign.
Immortal now with all the gods, prepared to rise again.

-

Good Night God Bless
Good night God bless she says to me.
Good night God bless, every night.
Her words forever full of sincerity.
With no sign of her body hard fight.
every night she’s said those words to me.
Every night before we sleep.
Every night she miles so sweetly.
A memory I will always keep.
Every day I’ll give up my life for you.
Every day I’ll share my life’s force.
I hope you know that I’m always here for you.
And keep you protected from harm and on course.
Good night God bless, she says to me.
The Angel with the soothing smile.
As I hold your hand it comforts me.
Good night God bless is my reply.
Chris O’Malley

-

Rhyme or Reason
Where lyrics tell a story and purge a memory from our past and the singer holds an audience, like a witches spell was cast.
As the songs we sing in mourning are the favoured of the lost, they are purely for the singer, where our funerary thoughts are washed.
The poet at a window views the world that feeds his pen. Self indulgent are his writings, his bleeding soul exposed again.
His ink is mixed with the tears that drip from cheeks to page, as he searches for rhyme and reason amidst his demons and his rage.
Be us poets, writers or singers. Mourners, listeners or just us.
To song and verse we surrender and in words we truly trust.
Be they sweet or filled with emotion, stirring or fuelled with lust.
Words are our pathway to hope for humanity, ever present and never trodden into dust.
Chris O’Malley

-

Nurture and Nature
Becoming a fathers, ever so cereal, from being me to us was a real big deal.
Hard to accept and a change of reality
Words like me and I gets wiped from you vocabulary.
Blowing birthday candles, making a wishes for someone else.
Giving your child all the magic with a wish for their success.
Then there’s the worry, the waiting and the stress.
Let alone the cost of Christmas gifts, sports and oh, the new prom dress.
At night your never free from the worry or the chaos.
Listening for their baby breath’s and milk filled nights just feed our pathos.
Tiny hands and tiny toes grow with parental guidance.
Children change our way of life. Nurture and natures a congenital science.
Chris O’Malley

-

Sisters Three
Destined to have a trio, but it was never to be.
Another ray of sunshine to make it sisters three.
An image of sound in black and white.
Forbidden from us to see.
A shortened journey of this little might.
An empty space that now will never be.
Inquisitive eyes look to the ground never questioning her life or our loss.
A little precious life on the back seat of a car now sleeps in a little white box.
The loss of a child has no reason or account, no words could ever explain.
For such a short life no memories to reflect.
Only what could have been and the pain.
Chris O’Malley

-

First Born
First born to two who knew little, except how to fall deeply in love.
A first born who was planned to perfection.
A first born to fit like a glove.
As you grew you showed your abilities.
A little sister you strived to protect.
Ever knowing and always perceptive, we knew whatever you wanted you’d get.
And now here you are in your fortress. You castle, your home and your keep.
With pride we look upon you treasures, your three jewels are the fortune you reap.
A lover of snow in the winter, a worshipper of sun summer long.
A party queen and a reveller.
Who’s identity’s disclosed in her song.
Chris O,Malley

-

Son
You breaker off hearts and builder of pride, you singer, you actor and best friend.
You came into the world as a gift after loss and helped all of our sadness to end.
You tested our our emotions and faith in expert hands as you fought to remain in this life.
And you’ve battled the demons that tear at your soul and held at ransom at the point of a knife.
I’ve stood in the rain and cheered you on when muddy and blooded you ran.
Watched you grow from along way away as you passaged from boyhood to man.
A son is different to a father’s insight, he’s loyal and true to the end.
And as you continue with your perpetual fight, I’m here for you father and best friend.
Chris O’Malley

-