‘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’.
‘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…
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.
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.
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.
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.
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©