Created: Aly Miller
Alyssa Miller was born in Santa Monica, California and began writing poems at the age of 12 in middle school. She is from a family of 4, 2 parents and 1 older brother. Alyssa moved to Saginaw, Texas in 4th grade and moved to Haslet, Texas in 6th grade. She has always had a desire for writing and geography. Alyssa, now a freshman, still continues her passion for the subject.
"Where I'm From"
I am from chalk, Metolius and Magnesium Carbonate.
I am from branches scratching the water stained windows
(Dark, horrifying, nails on a chalkboard.)
I am from Palm Trees, Golden Poppies, beaches, the Red Oaks, Chalklive Forever, rolling hills.
I am from game nights and short height, from Stephanie and Douglas and Miller.
I am from the small talk and loud mouths.
From being a good friend and trying my hardest.
I am from being a good friend and trying my hardest.
I am from reviving my soul and furthering my trust in him.
I am from California and Saudi Arabia, California rolls and pasta.
From the time my brother jumped off of his dresser and the time my grandmother went gambling.
I am from the framed pictures with never ending smiles hung throughout my mother's room.
Seventh Of September
Seventh of September, I remember very clear.
We got called into the family room,
A shiver rippled down my spine
like those of a lake.
The words stuttered out of her mouth,
4 short months.
4 short months until she is gone.
The conversations got longer,
the home cooked meals go sweeter.
3 short months.
3 short months until she is gone.
The car rides got slower,
the movies got longer.
2 short months.
2 short months until she is gone.
The nights got shorter,
the smiles got bigger.
1 short month
1 short, short month.
The hugs got tighter,
the laughs got louder.
12th of January, I remember very clear.
Car doors slammed,
scared to say a word.
We gave our hugs and said our goodbyes.
She adjusts her hat and tightens her boots.
16 long months until she is home.
In A Home
a home, not
just a house. A
home is different to a
house. a home is a place
where you thrive, a house is a
place where you stay without any
appreciation. A home is special because
it's where you grow up. The walls
are full of memories and forever
on going smiles. It is the place I b-
ring friends and the place I rest my
head at night. A home has a distinct
smell, something so unique and in-
describable. A house reeks of plaster
and dust. In a home you are surround-
ed with safety and people you love most.
Ode to My Bed
You bed, are a home.
Your warmth surrounds like a hug (Simile)
Your blankets are open with greeting arms. (Personification)
You make me want to snooze all day,
In a place my mind can drift away.
Even if you are a twin,
No other bed can compare.
You’re ability to make memories miles long is (Alliteration)
Like no other
You are my one true lover
Clouds are rocks compared to you (metaphor)
Without you I am nothing. (hyperbole)
You’ve showed me that when I make messes
I need to pick them up (personification)
You make me feel secure
Your vast colors are like those of a rainbow,
Filling me with warmth and joy.
You’ve been through thick and thin
And for that
I thank you.
Love, what shall you leave tonight?
What words could help a broken heart?
Could our love be repaired my morning light,
or will nightfall be our last depart?
I'll leave you without this,
the eternal promise to care for you.
Was it just a false sense of bliss?
What else could you do?
So before your final goodbye,
when anger finally buries your love,
remember some dreams do die,
and that future you have spoken of.
I remind you with every final breath,
my eternal love, is as strong as death.