Tag: poetry

Amy on writing

Fragile

amywestphalcreates

Word prompt Fragile. My first prompt piece~

It wasn’t always like this. So vibrant, unyielding. She could eat the world and still want more but this place, it has a way of unraveling you. Like a spool of fragile lace spinning down to a delicate nothing. Froth and whispers. And all that’s left is the cardboard. Paper thin and hollow. Just like her.

What up WPs. It’s been an interesting week. I still await good new from my submissions. But alas, they leave me in silence.

But I’ve been filling my time. Building connections with other writers, forging them in flame and reading their work. It’s been rewarding and insightful…

And most importantly? Stops me from refreshing by fucking email.

Any word promps to share? Drop me a link.

I’m kind of into it right now.

Cheers, Amy

Amy on writing, on writing and kids

More than me

amywestphalcreates

Welcome to another Vent-sesh poetry for the terminally stressed.

This session, instead of inflicting y’all with self-critical frustration in the form of poetry, I thought I would share an ode to the most important things in my life…

My daughters… my gifts, my treasures. My greatest accomplishment.

More Than Me-

Better than me.

Better than us.

Better than anything we wanted to be.

Harder, faster, stronger, longer.

Every choice,

leads to the next.

Be the change, don’t ever hold back.

Sharper, keener, deeper, dreamer.

Everything you want,

everything you are,

is exactly what I want you to be.

Cheers, Amy

Amy on writing

Down

amywestphalcreates

Heres to another installment of Amy’s Vent-sesh poetry for the chronically stressed. Come commiserate with me my WPs!

It falls so fine you cannot see.

Down, down.

Softly, slowly.

Bask in the translucent blush, watch the sheen as it shimmers down.

Down, down.

Softly, slowly.

Coat after coat, dust to dust, bury me down.

One effervescent sheet at a time, bury me down.

Caked in layers you cannot see.

Down, down.

Softly slowly, softly slowly, until there is nothing left of me.

Today’s super satisfying vent sesh is brought to you by my immense guilt of not editing my book.

But. I opened the file yesterday made some notes and am prepared to finally start. April’s gonna be my month!

I will no longer bury my passion project and guilt myself about it. I have plenty of other things to stress about. THIS SHALL NO LONGER BE ONE OF THEM.

Feel free to hold me to it…

Cheers, Amy

Amy on writing

Nevermind

amywestphalcreates

Drag me swathed in never mind.

I do not feel. I cannot feel.

Press me hard against the glass.

I do not break. I do bend.

Rattle my cage, feed the animal.

Pet me nice. I’m a good girl.

To and fro, stretch me thin.

I am gossamer whisps of never mind.

Been a minute since my last vent poetry sesh. Feels good every time.

Happy weekend everyone!

Cheers, Amy

Amy on writing

Nothing

amywestphalcreates

 

I spin my webs and draw them in, a gift they cannot see. They wear the cobwebs like nebulous bonnets of silken fluff and air.

 

My hands are a pyramid and my fingers tap, like a menacing villain without a face. Everyone knows but no one sees. I have a taste for it now.

 

Ignore the feeling, it’s just the wind that raises hairs upon your neck. For I am soft-spoken and golden crowned. Harmless, vapid thing.

 

Drink my water squeezed from stones and rest your weary head. Your brilliant mind is just too full and you are too very kind.

 

I did nothing at all.

 

In my previous post: What It Isn’t , I discuss constructive criticism and how important it is in many fields, particularly in creative fields. This poem was inspired by the people best known for giving destructive crits. You know the type… The one always taking credit for others good work, the one issuing blame and never taking responsibility…

You are better than that. Relish in it.

Cheers, Amy

 

Amy on writing

Enemy Mine

amywestphalcreates

 

I close my eyes to reclaim my peace. But in the darkness I come at you swinging with the force of a thousand wrongs.

 

Always swinging, never connecting.

 

I bat at you with kitten paws but you never even flinch. I kick and scream at your impenetrable walls, but you’re a fortress. I am lost.

 

I break the glass with banshee cries and chew the shards to sand. I taste the blood and spit it out, a bitter pool for your reflection.

 

I hope you drown.

 

I grab your hair and lick your face to mark you as my own. You belong to me I say when I Holyfield your ear.

 

And when I think I’ve won again, again you slip away. The light of day has won this one. It always is the same.

 

Enemy of my enemy, enemy mine.

 

In my angsty, community raised, couch surfing, teen years I wrote a lot of poetry. In lieu of a heart dotted i diary, I would sit with my Mazzy Star, The Doors or Alice In Chains and write all the wrongs of my little world. When I was done, I would smile and frolic off on my merry California way, refreshed and ready to do what teenagers do.

 

I miss that feeling of renewal.

 

I love poetry, and have mentioned how cathartic I find it. However, I seldom write it just for me anymore let alone share it. Especially since I get to read wonderful poetry everyday here on WP. But lately, in my self possessed, collected adulthood, my old outlet found me in a time of need.

 

So in honor of candor and stress relief I decided to share.😅😳

 

Cheers, Amy

 

Self portrait in sepia pencils on canvas by me.