My poetry…



 

‘A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language’. W. H. Auden

 

‘A poet’s autobiography is his poetry. Anything else is just a footnote’. Yevgeny Yevtushenko

 

‘Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry’.

 

Muriel Rukeyser

 

A poem can have an impact, but you can’t expect an audience to understand all the nuances’. Douglas Dunn

 

A small selection of my work spanning the years…

 

Æ


The Mirror

I called on an old friend yesterday,

Been such a long time, We’d so little time for play.

She was there with me when the stars came out, And when I was alone.

But never when I played with friends, Or when Mum and Dad were home.

She’s been hiding under darkness, All these growing years,

Never fully open, Never trusting peers.

The beauty of her nature, never fully known

And with burden of sadness, She has never fully grown.

She feigned a smile back at me, As I watched her through the glass,

An eerie recognition, Of many moons that passed.

She offered me a whiskey, And poured one for herself,

Surrounded by her future, In every frame on every shelf.

She closed her eyes and led me, Right into her mind

Leaving present and normality, A million miles behind.

She opened a book filled with her words, Years of unanswered prayers.

Where truths were never heard, by one who might have cared.

Her story ran relentless, And with each page she poured

Another bourbon whiskey, No ice and not stirred.

As tears streamed her now lined face, She kept them wiped away,

Desperate to recount the tales, And it had to be that day.

I’ve lived with this so long now”, Her story began,

And from every burly shadow, I got up and ran”.

But I can not keep running, My heart and soul are tired

Carrying these secrets, That fuel eternal fires”.

She lit another wand of incense, to help clear the air,

Still and in silence, I knew they were there.

Ghosts of her lifetime, Demons of old,

Taunting and haunting, my blood ran cold.

No age left sacred, None free of scars,

Years drenched in sadness, The child in her marred.

A terror within her, engraved by her past,

Escaping words, Found her freedom at last.

Anger, frustration, Disappointment and shame,

Nobody or armor saved her that pain.

But with ‘alter-ego’ that now stands to the fore,

NO-ONE will be taking more.

I watched her soul lighten, as each page unfurled,

Relieved of it’s burden, finally, As each word was heard.

One for the road”, I said, refilling the glass,

Relieved to feel better, Some peace at last.

I blew out the candles and washed out my glass,

Too many whiskeys make time go so fast.

I glanced to the mirror, To see had she gone

That girl looking back, So amazingly strong…


by
Amanda J. Fitzpatrick©

The Waste of a Lifetime…

 

Imagine the faith of an angel;

The voice of a candle;

The serenity of a sunset;

The velocity of darkness.

Think back on a moment

How long was it? How did it feel?

Is life really worth a multitude of moments?

How did you spend your moment?

Do you believe it could have been put to better use?

Are you proud of how you created it?

Could you have changed it?

Did you err? Will you?

Think over your lifetime,

Imagine had it been different;

Are you happy with how it has been?

Why are you not? Why would you change it?

What have you suffered? What have you lost?

What have you learned? What was the purpose?

Where is the reason? What was the cost?

Will you change your future? Would you change your past?

Why did you not live it then as you would now?

Is there a purpose?

Will you change your future? How?

How – as you have not yet lived!

If you had, you would not now be changing your past.

Imagine the length of eternity;

The voice of a flame;

The serenity of a sunrise;

The velocity of light;

Imagine the waste of a lifetime…

by Amanda-Jane Fitzpatrick.©

THE WORLD TO ME

The river rages, and swells with lightening storm,

All the world is moving, fast and warm.

Thunder blasts, through the sickly air,

Some are worried, some don’t care,

But there is no life here.

Keeping it open, the able mind,

Though many have searched, few can find,

So none can change it; their treason,

For they are blind to reason. Show them

That to be there, their place is here,

To one who looks, it shall appear.

Not as one with futile control,

Nor with needy disparagement,

Nor fear of toll.

Wide open and onto yourselves,

Take freedom from it’s shelf.

Cherish it, keep it near,

All the answers you seek are here.

There. Everywhere.

Be honest and see how you are like them,

Now conforming, immoral then.

Your loyalty to them is disquieting.

I know you not; not who you are;

Nor what you do. What do you do?

Oh I see you. I know you’re there.

Athwart the void, that fills this air.

I know the true you; that deep inside

Keeps your mind and solicitude wide.

Gathered in haste, intent on lending more

Time and effort in a concocted whim,

To turn away from the truth within.

But I see you.

But you don’t see me,

You, who means the world to me.

Why so engaged in mindless torrent,

For me? But why? Do I offend you?

Why do you not protect me with your motherly arms?

Sadly all too seldom, I intuit your charms.

Time has moved and decades passed,

How long could this last?

Let time not impede your endeavour to change this,

As morale enervates and time slithers past; relentless.

These days are but few of all you will know,

Moments to have with you, wherever you go.

No notion of how long it will last,

This might be it, at last.

And as much as you mean it, interred is the lie,

I need from you, the earth, that has grown me so high.

Perhaps you’ll come to know me again; perhaps too late,

Whilst age slithers past; relentless.

There is no time to wait.

Why grieve for what can be saved?

Make the decision to have to the end,

Fellow giver of life’, who once was my friend.

For as the sun sets, my fears will rise,

When night has fallen, might I realise,

That nothing now can save my soul; but me.

My aim must be to gain control, to redeem

Myself of my weakness

Through the courage and stamina,

That through you, I already know.

Your light gives no rays, so few sunny days,

Our time together a memory now,

Of when I loved you more.

 

Amanda-Jane Fitzpatrick©

 

 

Soulmates

May your true love surrender all of your fears,

Those deeply interred that have beleaguered your years.

This love is not like any you have ever known,

From a mere few moments, this true love has grown.

Those moments are sacred, for those who truly know you;

And the pair of you; two bestowed.

For it is those that found you and tendered a chance,

For two weary hearts, the will to dance.

And so cherish each-other, for you love how they need you,

And laugh with each-other, for you love how they feed you

With sunlight and warmth and with air that is clear,

Not clouded by tradition, nor dampened by fear.

All shall be calm, where once raged a storm,

This love you have found will keep your heart warm.

May all pasts be forgotten but revered for their costs

Had you not paid their toll, all may have been lost.

For you each have arrived, at this time-honoured place,

Divine in it’s timing and honoured by fate.

Two souls of Heaven, two hearts entwined,

A Celestial equal, that some never find.

And this love forever, will keep your heart strong,

Content in knowing that to them you belong.

Be you together, apart, ahead-of or behind,

This real true love will the two of you bind.

For this is for you – as it is for them,

A ‘spiritual reunion’ from another realm.

A bond between souls, a friend to behold,

Embracing eternity – another lifetime to unfold.

Amanda-Jane Fitzpatrick©

This. Us. We. You. Me.

A dream as it seldom is of nothing, calls me to see

The boundaries in my heart are falling

And it’s core revealed. The ends were tied or so I thought

But the logic – now frought, is undecided

And it seems I can no longer hide it

This feeling in my heart.

Many moons cast shimmering glow, across many seas

That between us flow. Sands have shifted

As though it were time that I think

With open heart and simple mind,

But I am afraid that if I do, my soul will take flight

And look for you. This is not an idle choice

That I must make and someday voice.

I can think of little else, the air moves

In a whole other way, it drifts

And it tastes of places I dream of going

And of who I want to be. Understanding

This is hard, to decide what it means to me;

This. Us. We. You. Me.

Have I really forgotten then what it is like?

And yet I felt the first strike

Of your charms, as they blew away

Cobwebs from my heart, that day?

With certain fear, I knew before

Now I simply know no more

Than this is how I want to feel

And despite our distance, my heart can feel.

Amanda-Jane Fitzpatrick.©

 

 The Eternal Sin

Shadows cast by this merchant’s hand,
A treasure map for every foreign land.
I am not the first of his dormant prey, 
but he will be my last,
For I fell at the hand of the tormentor,
Today.

This tyrant of souls takes me in his hold
And reaches for the sword beneath his laden fold.
He unties my ropes
Although I am but free
And with each stroke from heart to soul
- he tears across me.

I do not struggle nor assume to annoy
- this lurid man.
For in his own a torment slumbers
And so with one he stands.
It lingers and it pleases him so
- in his eyes, I see.
He is the thief of his soul salvation
And he does not notice me.

I am but a vision, of all that turns him cold, my sin
Every leaded blow and every sickly fear,
Is reaffirmed or realised now,
But of which, I am not clear.

Those hands of so many years ago,
Across his naked skin. The eyes
Of the true legend – his tormentor;
Who first committed him.

He cannot shake nor lose this hate,
For it was moulded to his soul
The day the tormentor 'loved' him,
And poured poison unto his soul

One from which he cannot climb
Nor in such can he thrive,
For the harm that was upon him then
He must claim another life.

Of one who is unknowing
- as he himself once was,
Of one who is ever pleasing
- to one, such as he,
and of one who’ll never love him,
- nor doubt him, 
such as me.

 Amanda-Jane Fitzpatrick© 
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5 thoughts on “My poetry…

    • Thank you soo much Geoff and my apologies for only seeing this now… I haven’t been keeping on top of my writing since my last post which was quite some time ago now – as long as June of last year it seems. Sometimes things just overtake my life and there is little room for creating anything, much less composing thoughts into words that flow and are well, that tell the story… I really appreciate the feedback, as it inspires and helps me to guage by a another person’s perspective. Thanks again for taking the time to comment!

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