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Amy H Jan 12
(a metaphor...)

Turning times on who I had to be
singed and fragile
rigid as a leaf
wont to tumble
in the wind;
make a fist
see her crumble,
death of Spring
scattered on the ground.

Winter comes
to soothe the scorching,
freezing scars
til finally
the hottest Summer ever
is remembered not felt.
But a tree like me
abides the changing season
emerges thriving.
Seasons of change
Amy H Jan 10
life is poetry my dear,
while minutes and moments turn to years
and all the laughter, all the tears
teach us to release our fears;
to live like kings surviving jeers.
so raise your glass and let’s make cheers
for love keeps living, far or near;
a story for the poet’s ear.
I’m glad you’re in my story, Dear.
savor every moment, be happy for what is
Amy H Jan 2
how does a woman tell
about awakening?
the burning in her breast
the fire that lights
the embers long smouldering
‘neath years of stress
and fight
and proving;
when finally she esteems herself
and sees the lines and curves
for wisdom
and birth.

knowing her power, real
allowing her to feel
that freedom waits
where shame has fade away.
she knows the joy
of being
this woman-

having this form,
the center of creation
in her body and her soul
to share or keep-
is like a dance.

dance alone she may
or with you

you’ll know her
by the passion of her touch
her laugh
her joy
her zeal for life
when two become one
if first
she knows herself
and so do you
The only way to pure love is through the self. A woman who sees her value is a treasure to those who know her.
Amy H Nov 2018
I’m a love kitten
I feel a little smitten
I think I’ve been bitten
by you

the way I stare
across the air
with eyes so fair
at you

it fills my mind
you’re one of a kind
I’m in a bind
with you

I can’t keep back
this love attack
I need some slack
from you

forgive my daze
this lovely haze
my soul’s ablaze
for you

I anticipate
this will be great
but I can wait
on you
you have me up at night
Amy H Jul 2018
...I'll write it.
Baby with those blues,
you sing a tune
and smile at me
like miles away we’re going
but not together.
Not for now.
You sail your way
I go mine
“Into the Mystic”
like Morrison.
For your voice and your guitar
I would write another tune,
another lyric sunrise
with you and I held closely
feeling whispers
holding hands
reveling in what we made together.
Ah yes, this serenade I keep.
Your Little gypsy,
My Sailor man,
I’ll build you a port.
I’ll shine my light
and camp a while
if when the fog horn blows
and calls you home
you’ll sail my way.
You play our song,
I'll write it.
For memories, made and imagined, I give you this.
Amy H May 2018
I could write you in
between the lines,
slipping in nuance
like a kiss in the sheets;
but would you stay?
I wish to keep you in
the way you’ve gotten
neath my skin.
Hold me close
and whisper,
“take my body
feed my soul.”
A script we two
make the love
and write the prose.
Amy H Apr 2018

with mischievous smile
and painted skin,
if ever man should fly
it would be him.
the world a ground
for wanderlust
(no place could
keep him in)

has bid goodbye
while up he climbs
on quest
to clear his mind.
Africa, Andromeda
mountain peak to star;
no limits of time
or place too far.
‘ere he leaves
this Earth, before we all,
one rock
will surely call.
atop its peak
he’ll stop to rest
Everest, Sam,
ever rest.
For a departed mountain man, my friend.
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