Poetry Blog by Amy McCawley

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Amy Houston on I am (Sat, 22 Jun 2013 11:54 am)

Amy Houston on My pond (Sat, 22 Jun 2013 11:53 am)

Noetic-fret! on My pond (Sat, 22 Jun 2013 03:06 am)

Richard on I am (Thu, 20 Jun 2013 05:16 pm)

Amy Houston on Life's Rain (Sat, 23 Jul 2011 12:07 pm)

Jeff Dawson on Death of a Thistle (part2) (Thu, 21 Jul 2011 10:45 pm)

Neil Fawcett on Life's Rain (Thu, 21 Jul 2011 11:14 am)

Laura Taylor on Death of a Thistle (part2) (Thu, 21 Jul 2011 10:53 am)

Amy Houston on Death of a Thistle (part2) (Thu, 21 Jul 2011 10:31 am)

Laura Taylor on Death of a Thistle (part2) (Thu, 21 Jul 2011 10:27 am)

My pond

 

Subtle noise
I Try to poise my thoughts.
These ripples in my pond of thinking are restless and stretch vast across the water of memory loudly.
For ripples, surely should be quiet?
I Probably should stop skipping stones across it.
Since this pond,  it may not be wide enough to ever contain these ripples.
Certainly not deep enough
 to sink a stone.
Or is The ...

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The curse of optimism

 

Absence.
Of word for thought,
Or absence of thought.
Fraught sort of Feeling
Words whirling, streaming to fall.
Down down to jagged rocks.
Depths of dark,
 to wet for a spark, 
for fire.
I need the glowing warmth of fire.
Icy  currents drowning desire.
For hopes and dreams in these streams to meet this picturesque scene, then drop to such dark p...

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I am

 

I'm fine.
Any pain is mine.
Mine alone.
Weakness exposed, weakness Iv known,
For a short lifetime
Iv got time, so I'm fine.
I'm here, I am.
Am I?
Or did I disappear into quietly hidden fear?
 
I'm fine.
Life is here, love is kind.
The kindest Iv ever known.
Strength been shown, the kind of strength Iv never known before
I'm here, I a...

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Death of a Thistle (part2)

entry picture

The sun subsides.

Cold wind rides the waves, across the sea.

Cruel to her.

Darkness starved of light.

She, fights to survive.

Harsh pains of ovewhelming rains, and frosty dawns.

Winter scorns her.

She withers, to stem as petals fall to soils too hard to nourish,

or flourish from.

Long gone summer showers.

Warm rays of empowering long days.

She recalls...

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Birth of a Rose (part1)

entry picture

God, plucks few of us for the vase of history,

from his garden of flowers and trees,

all different in petals and leaves.

She is blossoming.

Standing out.

He does not doubt, he knows.

This flower grows better, the wetter the tears of human nature make the ground around her.

She catches the sun, the more that is done to her.

She photosynthesizes.

Rises from the...

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Life's Rain

entry picture

 What's life minus soul.

Soaking up rain and still dry to the core of being.

Bathing in sound but caught in all encompassing silence.

I feel droplets on my cheeks,

then the thirst of drought within subsides.

I am deafened by waves of joy and laughter.

I am showered with hope.

This is life's rain.

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Waiting room

 This waiting room, like life.

Slow but never sure.

What are they waiting for?
And I?

Why are all these people around?
what is that sound?

Only solemn faces,
In these types of places,

Dispare on display.
I want to look away.
But I stare in wonder,
And ponder, life, from this waiting room

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Rhymes

               I write in rhymes to make hard times seem easier defined,

as a chorus of growth and empowerment.

 

You see all thoughts become relevant,

in opposition to benevolent ways.

Far behind me are my self destructive days, that phase.

Our existence is melodic. A gift.

Still upon it,

we place expectations and material needs,

all this...

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To start to end

 If all good things end...

...why start?

An endless search for satisfaction.

Is this a cruel joke?

A treadmill of experience we run.

Must all good things end?

If to start is to learn,

to grow.

The journey or the destination.

Which holds worth?

What I know...

...what I don't know,  if all good things end.

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Scars

 ‘A body with character’

A wise woman would say.

OUR NAKED TRUTHS.

Hips to thighs,

stretch marks to wrinkled eyes.

Hide, we all do.

We say we don’t, but we do.

Hide. I wont.

MY NAKED TRUTH.

All I have, all I need.

All these things tell me I have grown.

You see, the thing I’d never known,

before this time.

Is that I’m fine in this body that’s m...

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Just us

 You fear change.

We fear fate.

And ever variable,

time and space,

emotion and place.

The reciprocation of love and elevation,

but then rejection.

Fear, it spreads like infection of the mind.

Insecurity insets.

Like insects breeding within.

So I begin, I wonder.

What do I acquire to quench desire?

How to be, what to say or ...

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A Home.

 A home.

Where the heart is,

right?

Even if the family fuss and fight,

that's alright.

Right?

 

Smells like good cooking,

sounds like banter, and laughter.

Not always,

a happy ever after,

but still a haven.

Sanctuary of love.

Pictures of smiles, and words from the wise.

 

Though I move, from place to place,

...

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Born to greatness.

entry picture

 Lost for words as I try to compose,

like the greats before me.

An ode of purpose.

Alongside me will they ever be, or me

alongside them.

 

Striving to be a creator of positive terms as these beats and words churn within me like butter.

Viscous. Velvety.

The only thing to do with this dairy delight is to spread it,

upon the bread of female st...

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