amanda-evett
American
Because it seems counterproductive to keep art "in," I write it all down so I can sleep at night. / / I have been writing ever since I was 8, and I count my first poem about llamas (would you llike a llama?) as perhaps one of my greatest works of all time. Of all the poems I have written (and there have been many), there seems to be one common theme- I, like many other writers, hope to chronicle my short time on Earth and somehow understand the world around me.
XXXII
February 2, 2001.
The last male survivor of the sinking of the Titanic
Has died in Southern France.
He did not remember being afraid.
Why should he have been?
Cradled in a father’s embrace,
Still warm from sleep.
A father would never know that his boys,
Would one day be known only as Orphans
Of the Titanic
As children with no names-
But at least they lived.
At least they lived.
The hands of a ship that took so many
That left so many wasted,
That took the souls of the fathers
Of the mothers
Of the sons, the daughters
Left him-
Still warm from sleep
He lived to be 92 years old.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 9:32 AM UTC
XXXI
Dear Lifeboat 13,
You saved my life over and over again
and my words,
My simple and barren words,
Will be but wisps on your memory when you finally
Decay.
I almost didn't get to leave, 13.
Second class and I just had to play the patience charade,
In a mass of people more like a brain cell
Than a crowd.
I was the last one in.
13, did you feel my body sink into your floorboards
And my nails scratch your oars?
Did my tears make you shudder
With the weight of my life that was before-
Did you feel it disappearing?
Lifeboat 13, you saved me,
And every day you will save me
From being a number in a book
I may have lived before,
But you will always be the vessel
That truly brought me home.
Sincerely.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC
***
I am the word of God.
My spine was first creased at baby Grace’s
Christening,
When all I could see were the deep canyons
Of the priest’s cheeks
Warmed by the heat of many candles
And smiling eyes.
I saw her marriage renewal, the day the crisp
Irish rain made my body weak,
But their hands clasped tight in a labyrinth
Of unity
I hoped it would one day save them
I embraced the thick leather of a suitcase
Many years too used
The mismatched socks and I held tight
As the waves tried to jostle us free
But I, I am the word
Of God
I will not be moved or
Redefined
The air felt too close one night
The dark too dark
The air too clear
My heartbeat too fierce
And my pages, my pages open
An unfamiliar hand follows the words of
Hallowed be Thy Name
And if I could hold them back I would,
My people, I would cradle
You
But I can only beg of you
To keep your faith
No matter how much it may
Sting
Keep your faith and I’ll hold you fast and
strong
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 9:52 AM UTC
XXIX
She has haunted my sleep for long enough, I fear-
My nightmares of ghost ships break the still night air
Too swiftly, too fiercely- the wound still stings.
In the night my heels and toes wander listlessly to the graves
Of those others have perhaps forgotten. I have not forgotten.
Fairview cemetery, Halifax, Nova Scotia.
The blank faced child, whom no one claims,
I fear has entered the end of life without the warmth
Of a mother’s embrace. I would hold them. I would love them.
The graves climb the hill like cinderblocks, one pushing the other
Up towards some heaven
Some beautiful blue sky where their souls must lay
And though the trees are bare and the sky feels cold
The silence calms me; here, they feel no water. No collapsing
Floor.
One hundred and twenty one ladies and men and children
Will rest here forever.
Among the graves I lay down my funeral bouquet,
Along with my ghost ship nightmares-
The world’s pain, and mistakes, and visions of a darker day
May perhaps one day rest here too
And float up towards some heaven,
Some paradise.
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
XXVIII
New York was far too bittersweet
For my taste-
I spit it out, gave it back.
You lied, my friend- my poor and
Huddled mass isn’t good enough
For your golden streets.
I got off the rescue ship thinkin’
That survivin’ must mean I’m gonna
Be somebody, that maybe because a lifeboat
Walled me in, held my hand through disaster-
I had some meaning. Some reason
To walk on tall into your open,
American arms.
But I checked the list of the dead
Today. I read name and name and name
And
There is no way there were two
Margaret Clarence Smitholds
On that there ocean voyage.
What’s so dead about me?
I checked today and I walk and I talk
Far better than a plastic doll
And there’s no livin’ part of me I left on
That boat
‘cept maybe my heart
Because lord, there ain’t no
Dead in my skin
But I’m **** close to not bein able
To feel
anything
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 8:42 AM UTC
XXVII
A three of clubs.
A clarinet missing seven keys.
A left shoe, untied.
A cross on a fine gold chain.
Hot and cold bath knobs.
Three rubies, twelve emerald earrings
And seven diamond necklaces.
A baby doll.
A broken pocket watch.
Gold coins.
The teardrops of every man to lose
a lover
The hurt of every child to have lost
a mother
For every girl to have lost a boy
For every hand to have lost a hand
to hold
A friend to lose a friend
One thousand, five hundred
and seventeen souls.
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
XXVI
Some say I’ll see the edge of nowhere
When I get there;
Trees will grow their roots up,
Streams will run backwards,
The grass will be bright blue-
and my unborn son, born
to the grave.
My wife has nightmares
about crying children and
screaming and waves
and I hush, hush, there
my dear wife of Halifax
and tell her the end is nowhere
in sight
In the dead of night I stand on
the boat deck
and wonder what’s really out
there
in the grand, decent world
Because Lord, if there’s no
plan for me
no place, no job, no
family
then I’ll just go
Just please, Lord-
let my baby live
and make it home
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 8:47 AM UTC
XXV
Please,
don’t leave me.
You are the first friendly face
and the first to look me in the eye
for what seems like a lifetime.
Your warm blanket is my savior.
Don’t ask what happened.
Should I know, more so than
the others?
I saw what I saw.
My friends haven’t been found,
my family is dead.
Everything I ever knew is now
lost-
Don’t ask me how I feel.
No, this blood
isn’t mine.
My body is fine.
Yes, coffee sounds good.
And some *****
if you’ve got it.
Anything to wash away
what I’ve seen
because it feels too real,
you know?
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 7:10 AM UTC
XXIV
Our father, who art in Heaven
hallowed be thy name
Bodies and blood rush past me.
If I open my eyes and let go
of these hands
I’ll lose faith
thy kingdom come
thy will be done,
in earth as it is in Heaven.
This Kingdom breaks under my
people
my hands bleed down and
I cannot link
enough souls
enough lives
to save us all
and I only cry this
prayer to You-
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
as we forgive them that trespass
against us.
In every face I see the forgiving
the forgetting and remembering
of the years they let slip
through their fingers.
They cross themselves for
the Son, the Father, the Holy Ghost
and those they love
and who loves them
And lead us not into temptation;
but deliver us from evil.
for thine is the kingdom,
the power, and the glory
for ever and ever.
Amen.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
XXIII
The clear light of dawn may never be seen.
Just another moonless, silent night, and yet-
The voices of the ocean waves gently recede…
The engines cease, and escaping steam
Clouds the still air. The ship is but a silhouette.
The clear light of dawn may never be seen.
A soft noise, maybe like marbles rolling. Sixteen,
Or so. Just a few. It will be easy to forget.
The voices of the ocean waves gently recede…
Through an open porthole crashes ice, falling between
The cracks of the sea, all too soon met-
The clear light of dawn may never be seen.
It was like breaking glass. Glass, that careens
Into the places in our souls where we sing laments.
The voices of the ocean waves gently recede…
Sleep, children, sleep, for this will all be a dream-
Far from now, where cool breezes will thee abet…
The clear light of dawn may never be seen;
The voices of the ocean waves gently recede…
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC