Bits of Me in Poetry

Epitath

Quilly — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 02:30:16 +0000

A monument to itself;
broken pier,
submerged in sand.

CLA

The Essence of You

Quilly — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 15:00:42 +0000

Your eyes are as green as sweet summer grass,
And they sparkle and shine with charm and with sass.
Your hair is as golden as sunlight in June,
And shimmers like flame at both midnight and noon.
Your hands are as soft as a butterfly’s wing,
Your fingers look fine adorned with my ring.
I love you my dearest from your hair to shoelaces,
You are the ideal of all womanly graces.
I love your bright smile and your sweet ruby lips,
The curve of your waist and the flare of your hips.
I love the music in your giggle and the dance in your laugher.
You’re a flame in my heart. You’re the one I lust after.
My darling you’re perfection from your head to your ankle,
But you’ve one little flaw and it really does rankle.
The one part of you that is truly not sweet,
Is that jam ‘tween your toes and the smell of your feet!

By: Charlene L. Amsden
Writing Prompt #38 at Read~Write~Poem

Note: When I first read the prompt (smell), I was completely brain dead. I read it every day and came up with nothing. Then suddenly, Thursday night while suffering a horrid headache, my brain — independent of my will — began crafting verse. Unfortunately I am the “she” of the smelly feet (though I promise I wash them daily) and the poem is something a lover could have written to me. I kid you not, one winter as I was prying off my snow boots at my (now ex-) father-in-law’s door, he said, “If your feet stink, we’re putting you out on the back porch!”

Tradition vs Innovation

Quilly — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 01:29:54 +0000

One advocates change.
The other stands on its laurels.
One wants total renovation.
The other is content with the status quo.
One wants to maintain.
The other wants to destroy and rebuild.
Each seeks total control.

Debate, their first-born child,
Is abandoned.
Compromise, their next-born,
Is rejected.
Hope, spontaneously aborts.
Triumph, withers in the womb,
Unconceived.

by: Charlene L. Amsden
Simply Snickers — Writing Prompt
tradition; total; triumph

Wanton

Quilly — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 22:22:27 +0000

You wander into
And out of
My life.
I wonder why I let you.
You leave on a wild whim,
And roam where you will
And do what you wish
With whomever you please.
I search for you, witless,
Scouring back alleys
And city streets
To no avail.
Then you weave your way home,
Weak and wretched,
And crawl into my bed.
Debauchery wafts from you.
You gaze at me with golden eyes
Knowing your wiles
Will win me over.
You nudge my hand,
Butt your head against my chin
And purr.
I welcome you home.

Photographer & Poet: Charlene L. Amsden
Simply Snickers — Writing Prompt
wander; weak; wild; wit; wonder

The Autograph Tree

Quilly — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 23:15:37 +0000

The Autograph Tree

We carved our names upon this tree
The day that we were wed.
The tree still lives and thrives and grows,
But your love for me is dead.

How many other names are here,
A testament to pain?
How many other wounded hearts
Afraid to love again?

Every day young lovers come
Their pledges here they sign,
Let’s hope their hearts are truer, dear,
Than your heart was for mine.

Photographer & Poet: Charlene L. Amsden
Writing Prompt #37 at Read~Write~Poem

Lovely Lily

Quilly — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 18:13:49 +0000

Lovely Lily

lovely Lily
flower of death
scent of heaven
and angel’s breath

upon my chest
as here I lie
at peace at last
while mourners cry

soon to rest
beneath the earth
where I’ll assist
Spring’s new birth

poem originally posted on Brian Fowler‘s Blog
Truth is Freedom
July 20th, 2008
Photographer & Poet: Charlene L. Amsden

Neon Bleeds

Quilly — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 06:23:56 +0000

Those who work in the Waikiki resorts, dwell in their shadow.
Neon bleeds down back alleys, following them home,
A bit of artificial glamor to limn the reality
Of minimum wage in the high rent district.

: Waikiki Alley

photo & poem by C.L. Amsden

How the Platypus Came to Be

Quilly — Mon, 05 May 2008 06:44:36 +0000

“It is done”, God said,
“It’s time to take a rest.”
The angels marveled at the sun and stars,
Jesus liked the Earth the best.

God’s workshop was a jumble,
And Gabriel started to clean.
He found a pile of extra parts,
And caused some kind of scene.

“You know I can’t stand waste, Lord.
“You’ve got to use these bits,”
“Can’t be done,” God told him.
“Nothing left there fits.”

“You’re the Lord!” Said Gabriel,
“Ain’t nothing you can’t do.”
So God jammed the bits together,
And made the platypus and you.

CLA

poem originally posted on David McMahon’s
Author Blog,
May 5th, 2008
Poet: Charlene L. Amsden

Minutia

Quilly — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 06:19:06 +0000

One small grain of sand,
labored over and polished,
becomes a pearl.

CLA

Hibiscus

Quilly — Wed, 19 Mar 2008 05:19:15 +0000

Aloha flower,
Ruby throated Hibiscus,
Sunshine on the vine.

CLA

Photographer: Charlene L. Amsden

Bits of Me in Poetry

Epitath

The Essence of You

By: Charlene L. Amsden Writing Prompt #38 at Read~Write~Poem

Tradition vs Innovation

Wanton

The Autograph Tree

The Autograph Tree

Photographer & Poet: Charlene L. Amsden Writing Prompt #37 at Read~Write~Poem

Lovely Lily

poem originally posted on Brian Fowler‘s Blog Truth is Freedom July 20th, 2008 Photographer & Poet: Charlene L. Amsden

Neon Bleeds

photo & poem by C.L. Amsden

How the Platypus Came to Be

Minutia

Hibiscus

By: Charlene L. Amsden
Writing Prompt #38 at Read~Write~Poem

Photographer & Poet: Charlene L. Amsden
Writing Prompt #37 at Read~Write~Poem

poem originally posted on Brian Fowler‘s Blog
Truth is Freedom
July 20th, 2008
Photographer & Poet: Charlene L. Amsden