by Paul Halley | Feb 24, 2017 | Poetry
For the downtrodden man who is strengthening his literacy. For the mother with the daughter who knows nothing but her books. For the boy playing board games in the corner with his friends. For the clerk who turns a smile on each patron’s face. For the librarian,...
by Paul Halley | Aug 18, 2016 | Poetry
I think of living with you: I think of mornings that smell of coffee breath, cigarette breath; of a food-filled fridge that inspires hours of culinary creations; of evenings that arouse nothing less than magic; of cuddling, wrapped like a pretzel, wondering how we can...
by Paul Halley | Dec 18, 2013 | Poetry
Maybe there were fireflies in my belly, And every time I touched you They danced like princess ballerinas. Maybe there were fireworks on the soles of my feet And every time I looked at you I danced like I was in space. Maybe you were the tree roots That grounded me,...
by Paul Halley | Nov 1, 2013 | Poetry
Dedicated to Howard C. Shmaruk1961-2013 He was not legally responsible to provide me with food, or access to education or shelter, because he and my mother never joined in union. Though, there was still a responsibility that he felt toward my family. Provide me with...
by Paul Halley | Aug 26, 2010 | Poetry
A little boy walked to the sky To his clean slate he said goodbye. This boy said ‘hi’ to a whole new world And watched this scene become unfurled. He said farewell to purity As his emotions would present obscurity. First concern was to feel good No one was...
