If we were together
could I lay my head upon your chest
and listen to your heart beat
Forever?
Would you brush away my tears
piece together
the fragments of my dreams
and chase away my fears?
If we were together
forever
would you keep me filled
to overflowing with your love
so my life was never wasted on despair?
If we cannot be together
ever
on this earth of ours
could you teach me
how to keep you in my heart
so I can feel you there
Forever?
Mandy Edwards (c) 2013
Monday, 23 September 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
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 cornerof 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!’
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.
with all my pent up frustration.
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.
shrug in hopeful resignation, decide to trust;
trudge in squelching footsteps through the mud,
to coax the Stubborn One to her feet.
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.
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.
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.
Friday, 6 September 2013
the Power of Words
Our words define us
separate or connect us
they can trip us up
or help us flyseparate or connect us
they can trip us up
words can deceive
or make us believe that
anything is possible
or nothing isor make us believe that
anything is possible
they can fill us with love
or empty us
make us laugh or cryor empty us
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
Sunday, 1 September 2013
What do you do ... when you can't find inspiration?
despair
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 doto escape the loneliness
of an empty page
staring at the same lines
over and over
until they disappear
in a mist of tears?
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
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
through your tears of shame
rekindle the fire in your soul
And understand …
your muse never leaves you
He just waits patiently
your muse never leaves you
He just waits patiently
For you to believe in yourself
to Be ... Have ... Do!
to Be ... Have ... Do!
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
characters.
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.
.jpg)
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.
http://amzn.to/149v0A4
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
characters.
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.
.jpg)
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.
http://amzn.to/149v0A4
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