Monday, 23 December 2013


Image result for picking daisies - picture

He loves me, he loves me not
a tear begins to form

He loves me, he loves me not
a seed of fear is born

He loves me, he loves me not
my heart will not settle

He loves me, he loves me not!
I crush the fragile petal.

What if he never loves me?
My brokenness won't mend

I pick another daisy
and start the count again.

He loves me. He loves me!
Joy becomes a sigh

For just a tiny spark of hope
a flower had to die.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2013

Saturday, 21 December 2013

Summer rains

Bless-ed rain falls
on this sun baked earth,

the pores of my skin,

the desert places 
of my soul,
the well-spring of my heart,

my desperate thirst.

Droplet upon droplet
form wild rivulets
down my dusty cheeks
the detritus of yesteryears.

I hold my arms aloft,
press my face
against God's chest

And smile through His tears.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2013

Wednesday, 11 December 2013

Mystery at Dead Man's Ridge, by Mandy Edwards .... is now in PRINT.

Visit for more information and let me know if you would like to purchase a copy. You won't regret it! It is gorgeous. 138 pages, 5 full colour illustrations, a coloured map, and a black and white sketch for each chapter. Come and see what farmlife is like in Otago, New Zealand ... and help two young cousins solve the mystery ... at Dead Man's Ridge.

Tuesday, 3 December 2013

Panic in the supermarket

tendrils of fear
unfurl around me
amongst the shelves
crackers play dice
with my heart
there's too little air
in the Spanish Olives
a purple aubergine
mocks me - "mala insana"
what madness is this?
my soul bared
there is nowhere to hide
layer upon layer of skin
stinging insidious tears
pretzels hold out their arms
like children in prayer
I stare at my upturned palms
stained by the vine
and can't remember
why I am here.
Mandy Edwards (c) 2013

Thursday, 28 November 2013

A Poem a Day ...

Just a little poem I wrote to remind myself how important it is to write everyday ... even the simplest of words can create a little magic.

A poem a day
shakes the cobwebs away
For dust cannot settle
if your mind's in fine fettle.

So hum a few words
as you put on the kettle
sprinkle magic into the fray.

If your head's in a muddle
go jump in a puddle
let the child in you out to play.

Soon you will find
that your words start to shine
And a poem is writ for the day!

Mandy Edwards (c) 2013

Saturday, 23 November 2013

I see you, Zacchaeus

I see you, Zacchaeus
up high in the sycamore tree
Shall I join you?

We could dream of days gone by
when smallness was a simple joy
the seed of greatness
tucked inside your heart
waiting for a ray of light.

It’s hard isn’t it, Zacchaeus?
when desperate eyes
accuse you, detest you
ate you for being who you are
and who you are not
Yes, I see you, Zacchaeus
There presides the king of tax collectors
A cut above the others , you think
yet so despised
In your heart you wonder
what happened?
to that young, shy boy
who used to climb trees
hide from the world and dream

A child
stretching his imagination, up, up, up
well beyond
his small, imprisoned self …
watching, waiting ... for me.
Here I am at last, Zacchaeus

Come down from there a while
 – take my hand
Let’s talk a little, share some food
refresh our souls
to face another day.

I have always known
what’s in your heart
knew that one day,
You would come to me.

Today is a new beginning
to get to know each other better
Soon you will see your true self.
Not the little self, accumulating riches
trying to fill that vast vault inside
with worldly treasures …

But you … the you I made you to be
a small boy dreaming big
content to swing his legs up in the trees
and feel the sap quickening in his veins
Longing for love; longing to truly live
Happy to believe.

Amanda Edwards © 2013

Thursday, 21 November 2013

Love Songs

Song of Songs

Love flashes like fire
the brightest kind of flame

Hearts melt to molten gold
transforming, reshaping
re-gilding the world.

Nature takes on its brightest hue
the song of songs plays just for you

Love is as strong as death
cannot be quenched
or drowned
by mighty rivers

A gift divine
for mutual pleasure
all fear dissolved
a glimpse
of heaven's treasure.

"O promise me not to awaken love
... before the time is right"

Lest my love, doth flee into the night!

Love Song

As you play
upon my heartstrings
my soul aches for thee
You close your eyes
and gently strum
while I sing the harmony.

Every time you take a breath
I take a breath with thee
My heart swells with the music
And it sets my spirit free.

Together we compose our song
A bright new symphony
until it reaches a crescendo
and then - you part from me.

Each heart beat pulses sadness
I feel, oh, so bereft!
As I strain to hear the echo
of the music that you left.

You are the creator
And I - an instrument for thee
Please pick me up, hold me close
And pluck me tenderly.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2013

O speckled thrush!

O speckled thrush
so cold, so stiff, so dead!
Your flame extinguished
a faded silhouette
a fly-blown curiosity

No glimmer of light
from your half- moon eye.

 Stark contrast
to that sparkling beaded lace
an ethereal throw
on nature’s bed

A sticky, intricate snare
where Death awaits
upon his secret tight rope
Wraps his victims tenderly in silk
then sucks out all life
leaves just an empty husk.

Is this your fate
O, speckled thrush
as you “push up the daisies?”

Heavens no!

You are surrounded by
innocent ‘Christ-children’ *
damp with early morning tears
mourning your death
yet rejoicing in the dawning
of a new day …
 And look … O look!
A tulip cup
ablaze with glory

Herald of spring and all
dappled, variegated things
toasts the heavens
feasts upon the rising sun
shouts out its certainty -
Your death, speckled thrush
Is Nature’s celebration
A new beginning ….
You have fulfilled your role
your purpose on earth

In God’s eternal, circle of life.

Mandy Edwards © 2013

 *daisies are known as ‘Christ children’ – with their innocence and purity and the word itself
is Old English for “day’s eye” – referring to the beginning of each day, illustrated by the daisy closing its petals in the evening, and the first to open at dawn to greet the day. It also has its debut in the spring.

Many thanks to my dear friend, Niki Palmer, who produced the gorgeous photos for this poem ... :)

Thursday, 24 October 2013

Do you believe in faeries?

It begins with faeries.

I watch you shut your book
with a satisfying thud
and shout:
"I believe in faeries"

And I see God's smile
shimmer through the stardust

As the morning stars
sing together
and all the angels shout
for joy

You hug to yourself
a child-like certainty
that now, this very minute
another faery has been saved

Never lose
that sense of wonder

For you
everything is a miracle
there is nothing seen
or unseen
that you cannot believe

Faeries are like angels
invisible friends who
sparkle in the sunlight
dance and twirl like leaves

Little puffs of wind
playing in your hair
"Here I am, isn't life grand?"

They watch you play hopscotch
on the pavement
soothe ointment on your knees

Slowly release their breath
when you climb the tallest trees
nestle there
reach out to the clouds
And dream ...

A host of feathered angels
trill their secret messages
hop from branch to branch
watch over you
as you place one foot
carefully after another
and descend

Some angels
pile up freshly made scones
smothered in jam and cream
on your favourite plate
and watch you eat
so much in love with you

They read you endless stories
over and over
for they know you love to
feed your imagination
and can never get enough

when you least expect it
a furry angel jumps on to your lap
kneads you up and down
dribbles and purrs!

And did you know ...

A guardian angel
listens to your prayers at night
sends them heavenward
with a sprinkling of faery dust

Where God catches them
and smiles

While His angels shout for joy
and the night sky, shivers with delight.

Mandy Edwards (c) 2013


Sunday, 6 October 2013

Search-light to my Soul

My words are a search-light
to my Soul
speaking my truth.

Sometimes they glow and shine
shaped by thoughts from others
long ago
yet deeply mine.

Some days my words glisten softly
like pale moonlight or distant stars
A silvery fish, darting out of shadows
dapples of half-light, reflecting
off its scales
flashes of truth from memory's past.

Some days my words burn bright
I cover my eyes in pain;
there is nowhere to hide.
I take another peek - aha!
Nothing to fear
Just light.

Some days the words won't come.
I shake my torch, bang it on the ground
So frustrated,
so disappointed.

Useless, empty thoughts
expose old wounds
that I'm not good enough
A lonely void haunts me
deep within

So then I seek Your Word
Your truth, your wisdom.
Love fills my heart
Rekindles that radiant spark
that threatens to glow cold.

And then I remember.
You have given me all I need
Gifted me
my salvation
All I must do, is believe.

"Faith need be only the size
of a mustard seed."

For you Father, are always here
holding my trembling hand.
As we switch on the light together
And reveal such beauty there.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2013



Monday, 23 September 2013

Forever Together

If we were together
could I lay my head upon your chest
and listen to your heart beat

Would you brush away my tears
piece together
the fragments of my dreams
and chase away my fears?

If we were together
would you keep me filled
to overflowing with your love
so my life was never wasted on despair?

If we cannot be together
on this earth of ours
could you teach me
how to keep you in my heart
so I can feel you there


Mandy Edwards (c) 2013

Friday, 13 September 2013

Let's magic the pain away

A wild eyed pony snuffles at the fence;
seks the half bitten carrot, held out
on a brave yet hesitant palm,
fingers curled around the offering....

A thud, a squeal of pain.

The child has fallen,
picks himself up with all the courage
of a little warrior,
huge accusing eyes examine the spot.

Tears glint on sunlit cheeks,
droplets of blood ooze from a graze
that reddens upon a once perfect canvas.
He holds up his arm for his mother to see.

She kisses the top of his curly head,
breathes her love into the soft peach of his skin,
‘tut tuts’ her sorrow, makes a great show
of examining the wound, declares her verdict.

"It needs a little magic,
shall we kiss the pain away?"

A little nod, a half smile.
She wipes away his tears with gentle fingers,
bends over the wound, kisses it tenderly,
one last embrace.

The sparkle returns to his dancing eyes;
all pain forgotten.
He picks up a stick, bashes it gleefully
upon the fence.

The pony throws up his head,
snorts in fear,
skitters to the end of the paddock.

The boy is cautioned
and a fleeting cloud threatens the sunshine
of his face.

A moment's indignant thought.

He places the stick beneath his gumboot;
stomps it into smaller and smaller pieces,
then smiles with joyous satisfaction.

Amanda Edwards © 2013

Memoirs of a reluctant shepherdess

“Go Back!”
A sheep sits huddled in a corner
of the paddock as the rain pelts down;
sinks low in the sodden grass
desperate to escape the all-seeing eye
of the working dog.

I yell in vain as Biddy rounds up the flock
turning them round and around,
this way, then that way - no closer to the gate
confused by my conflicting commands:

‘Go back. Go behind, No, No … Back,
Good dog, No, Let it go, Stay, Go round
No! For goodness sake, Go back!’

Pregnant ewes cough and pant as they
race like miniature ponies on the track;
but they “must be moved” and my heart
takes on a wild beat
as the sheep whirl faster and faster;

In despair, I scream at Biddy
with all my pent up frustration.

She looks at me in disbelief.
You sorry shepherdess you … have you no clue?
Just let me get on with it.
Stop shouting, pointing, cursing, running ….
You are no dog … let me be – I’ll do my job.

I wipe the muddied droplets from my eyes,
shrug in hopeful resignation, decide to trust;
trudge in squelching footsteps through the mud,
to coax the Stubborn One to her feet.

She sees me coming, tries to get away
but I discover she is nearly cast,
one leg half gone to sleep.
I roll her over, support her
as she sways from side to side;
relieves herself in one grateful stream
then staggers off towards the flock.

My dog comes running, her wild streak roused
the main mob forgotten, for here is One alone,
An easy prey, a chance to tease and torment,
In fear, I shout, “Leave it, leave it …go back.”

With some reluctance, Biddy returns
her flock now calm
pouring like cumulous clouds,
through the open gate.
I follow slowly
jogging this way and that,
to guide the prodigal one back to the fold;
then pat my collie’s head for a job complete.

Amanda Edwards © 2013

Friday, 6 September 2013

the Power of Words

Our words define us
separate or connect us
they can trip us up
or help us fly

words can deceive
or make us believe that
anything is possible
or nothing is

they can fill us with love
or empty us
make us laugh or cry

we can wear our words
with pride

or disappear inside them
the perfect place to hide

who decided words
could never harm us

I’d rather break my bones
with sticks and stones …

than feel the loneliness
of thoughtless, hurtful words

bones can be healed

but a broken heart
may never be mended

 Mandy  Edwards © 2013

Sunday, 1 September 2013

What do you do ... when you can't find inspiration?



what do you do
when your muse refuses
to cooperate

slinks into a corner and sulks

or sneers at you … “you suck”
hollows out your insides
and leaves you in despair?

what do you do
to escape the loneliness
of an empty page

staring at the same lines

over and over
until they disappear
in a mist of tears?
what do you do
when you lose self-belief
think you are not good enough

never were … never will be

and wonder how you ever
dared to dream?

perhaps you take a walk
find a peaceful place
to simply be – and reflect

thank God for creating you

a brush stroke on his canvas
a composition for his song

loving you for being perfect
just the way you are …

yesterday, today and tomorrow.

perhaps then you can smile
through your tears of shame
rekindle the fire in your soul

And understand …
your muse never leaves you
He just waits patiently

For you to believe in yourself
to Be ... Have ... Do!

 mandy edwards © 2013

A wonderful review - Mystery at Dead Man's Ridge, by Mandy Edwards

5.0 out of 5 stars: Sheep Rustling, Dags and Burning Grass, September 1 2013
by Mr Richard Lw Bunning (Lausanne, Vaud, Switzerland)

This review is from: Mystery at Dead Man's Ridge (Kindle Edition)

This is a very exciting story that in my non-expert view is suitable for children of eight and upwards.
I'm trying to think back over 40 years to the books I was reading at that age. They were Enid Blyton's Famous Five and later, Anthony Buckeridge's Jennings and Captain W. E. John's Biggles books.
Edwards covers some adult topics in a very young person friendly and modern way; whilst in quality and plot style following very much in the footsteps of the best 1940's and 1960's children's authors.

The scene is set in rural Otago in New Zealand, with a full array of the elements that life there entails.

The landscapes and the farming life of backblock NZ feels very real, and the young townie's introduction to rural life hits the tin roof panel nail right on the head. Edwards brings into this environment many of the issues that face any growing child; shifting relatiionships, adult frailties, substance abuse, abandonment, physical abuse, the nuclear family and the common absence of one, I could go on. Issues are tackled in a realistically matter-of-fact way, through the "eyes" of the young

I very much enjoyed this, in many ways, "gritty" story, and have confidence that you and yours will as well. This book is also well balanced in terms of gender aspirations, which is something that children's books weren't always in my young days. In other words, Edwards reflects well the expectations of the now in which we live. I have little idea what the young ready today other than about teenage vampires and Hogwarts, but I would be shocked it this book got a less than favourable response from its target age group. I couldn't possible give this book less than five stars.

A note from the Author

A review like this helps me remember why I wrote the story in the first place ... to bring the fictional world I was obsessed with as a child, into the world as it is today .... exploring real relationships and realising that there is still much joy to be had, as a child, outdoors ... be it on a farm, or exploring the natural world, gettinng a natural buzz from rearing animals, or hiking in the mountains, or kayaking in a river ... and there is still much joy to be had in reading about realistic children in recognisable environments, where quality time, love and understanding are still the most important gifts we can give each other.

Friday, 30 August 2013

the Monarch

You rest upon my hand
a monarch butterfly
gently flexing your wings
such fragile beauty
perfectly designed

You listen, watch, wait
for that precise moment
a gentle zephyr
a sun warmed kiss
a call from the Universe

I scarcely breathe
my eyes fixed upon you

longing to keep you forever
so delicate, so precious
love catches in my throat

but you are not mine
and never were

In this brief time together
we taught each other
beauty and truth

I must let you go
that one day
you will return

yet while you still remain
the merest touch upon my skin
you have my whole attention

I dare not breathe or blink an eye
lest you disappear

and I realise with great sorrow

that I missed my chance
to say  - goodbye.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2013

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

A tragic loss


Nature's Fury

A leap of faith
results in tragedy

life cruelly taken
by the mighty Waikato
a river harnessed by man
its latent power unleashed
when the flood gates open

nature's fury
undercurrents, whirl pools, a swift
life-giving, life-taking force

the taniwha holds its breath

golden youth
invincible yet so vulnerable
throwing dice
         playinng with life
                       this time he lost

Let your spirit flow free
you are tangata whenua
connected to Papatuanuku
mother earth

her mountains, her lakes, her rivers

in her loving embrace once more
perhaps waiting to be reborn

know that you will
be always remembered
with great love

Aroha nui
             God bless.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2013


Sunday, 25 August 2013

God doesn't play dice .... Albert Einstein

I threw some dice today
and frowned to myself
for they refused to add up

every way I counted
every way I looked

I'd lost

I long to pick them up
juggle them, jiggle them
roll them again

but I am afraid
what if they never add up?

Is life a game of chance
an exercise in luck?

or can you take control
you choose the way
the dice will roll?


Should I try
just one more time
hold them loosely
shake them up a bit

or toss them aside
say a prayer

and this time, Trust?

Mandy Edwards © 2013

Sunday, 18 August 2013

A lazy afternoon

the sun warms my back
as I sit and drowse a little

composing a poem

a symphony of sound
accompanies my thoughts

the hum of my laptop
tap tap tapping of the keys
the drone of distant aircraft
a purring refrigerator

firewood waits patiently
in the trailer for me

you like your fire don’t you?
well then?

the freezer automatically makes ice
it doesn’t know it is winter

a pumpkin sits moulding away
at the kitchen sink
won’t turn into soup by itself

the bananas blacken, sweeten
nicely maturing for a cake

perhaps tomorrow

there’s just enough time
to warm my back
drowse a little and dream.

Amanda Edwards 2012 (c)

Sunday, 11 August 2013

A little church in Tarras, Otago, New Zealand

Tarras Church
I drove to Church today
and discovered it empty
alone on a hill
surrounded by autumn trees
a few sheep grazing peacefully
I stood on the steps
touched the walls of stone
prayed for love and forgiveness
longed to go in
saddened that on a Sunday
a Church could stand empty
I felt its loneliness
echo in my Soul
then gazed at the sky
a brilliant cobalt blue
and realised God was here
all around me
deep inside me
a Church could be unpeopled
on a Sunday
alone on a hill
surrounded by autumn trees
shedding their leaves like tears
yet never truly alone, nor lonely
for God is always near.

Saturday, 10 August 2013

Take a chance ... dare to believe ..

Billy Joel sings ... New York State of Mind, with a young man, who dared to ask a question ... may I accompany you .... and magic happens as a result.

Friday, 2 August 2013

Let the genie free.

In my secret forest
at the bottom of my garden
I discovered a shell

It was empty
Yet when I held it
to my ear
It was full of life

The swirling ocean
rushing, roaring, crashing

to the shore

The shriek of a gull
soaring, gliding, searching

with watchful greedy eye
The whistling of the wind
whipping up the sand
salty grittiness stinging my eyes

Oh no!
I quickly dropped the shell
and all was calm again
I licked the salty tear
dislodged by the sands
of my imagination

Rubbed my red rimmed eyes
which dared to believe
I had swam in the ocean

held my face up to the breeze
swung my arms and danced
along the beach

rejoicing in my freedom

In my secret forest
at the bottom of my garden
a shell lay silent

a gift from the sea
longing for me

to pick it up once more
and let the genie free.

Tuesday, 30 July 2013

Cast Adrift

Cast adrift
in a tumultuous storm

of one's own making

no clouds with silver linings here
just blackened cumulonimbus
sagging from the weight
of unshed tears

it takes
one act of kindness
one shaft of light
one seed of hope

to release those tears
dissipate the clouds
and welcome back the sun.

Mandy Edwards (c) 2013


Sunday, 28 July 2013

Blind Devotion

Blind Devotion

Along the river bank one day
I met a man and dog at play

the dog  carried in his mouth
a rubber ring
an awkward thing

but that was not the strangest sight
his faithful eyes were milky white
“How can he find the ring?” I asked
And his master softly laughed
“I make sure he knows,” he said

bent down to point his blind dog’s head
toward the way that he would throw

and with wagging tail off he sped

the ring jostled by his side
then tumbled to the ground to hide
at first the dog walked round and round
sniffed and sniffed ‘til it was found
then headed off in joyful glee
you would not know he could not see

back eventually he came
sat back down – “more … more … the same”

every muscle was a quiver
he knew his master would deliver

And I?
I cried inside as I stood there
watching this devoted pair

For love that binds a man with dog
is surely love that comes from God.
Mandy Gayle Edwards 2013 ©

Thursday, 25 July 2013

"Be sure the light you have is not your darkness"

A lighthouse stands alone
on a rocky promontory
flashes intermittently
a ribbon of radiance
in the inky blackness of the night


A ship frantic in the storm
searches for sanctuary
exposed like a hapless moth
drawn towards the light


Ignores the warning
"Not here ... not here ... not here"
but lured by a false God
is tossed ever nearer
"Be sure the light you have
is not your darkness"
Let not Neptune's fury
dash all hope upon the rocks.
Mandy Edwards 2013 (c)

Sunday, 21 July 2013

Return to Dead Man's Ridge ...

Watch out for 'Return to Dead Man's Ridge.' The first two chapters are complete! :) This one will not take so long to write, hopefully, so be quick, and download Mystery at Dead Man's Ridge, on your child's tablet or kindle, or PC ... otherwise it will be 'old news!' You can buy it from Amazon at a mere $US3.99. Why wait any longer? :)


Dear Tom.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I kind of miss the farm! I know you’re always going on (and on) about me being a ‘city girl’ and all, but I have to admit, life in town sucks after the mystery of Dead Man’s Ridge! I mean, how many city girls do you know, get caught up in sheep rustling and cannabis growing? My friends back here just don’t believe me!

Seriously, I hope you’re taking good care of Rascal and Billy for me. I so miss them but I guess our apartment would be a little crowded with a dog and a lamb! Mum’s doing much better. They think they’ve got all the cancer and so far there’s no sign of it coming back. Thank God. I was so scared. So was Mum I think, but she’s not admitting it. Anyhow, she says I can come back next summer; I can’t wait. She’s going to come too, I think. ‘Time to heal old wounds’, she says. I guess she means about Dad. He’s been emailing me heaps and I’m looking forward to seeing him again.

Write back if you can be bothered, little cuz, or maybe send me an e-mail ... you know, modern technology and all that. Hope you haven’t been doing any brown eyes lately! Could be a little cold riding your bike to school in the winter!

See ya. Hugs to Aunty Liz and Uncle Ted.

Love Maggie. PS, have ya seen Luke around at all?

Mystery at Dead Man's Ridge
When city girl meets country boy, there is huge potential for trouble! Maggie Mackenzie is forced to spend her Christmas holidays on a farm, in the ‘middle of nowhere’, with some relatives she has