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

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
hate 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

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 ... :)