The Anchor

In a rough sea 

on a stormy night,

the seemingly dinky ship finds a reprieve

given by the anchor.

The storm is violent,

unpredictable.

It forces the ship in all directions, 

but the anchor reminds her that the storm

is temporary

and that it will be there throughout her ride atop the unsure sea,

holding her down.

He'll be by her side,

a constant,

through the wind, wave, and worry.

-Amber

Truth

May it shine like golden sunlight
Be it dark as devil’s soul,
you must…

Shout out loud to all who listen
Whisper softly to yourself,
you must…

Speak all that is
and nothing but
pure truth.

-Amber

Snow

Sweet snow
Brighten the darkest deep blue night
Deliver us to morning
on your light, crystal wings

True snow
Bury yesterday beneath your mass
Pave the path to tomorrow
in glittering, honest simplicity

Bright snow
Open our eyes in awe of your beauty
Leave relief in our hearts
and assurance of breath

Even after you thaw

-Amber

Reminiscent

My breath is white and winter’s night is cold
The chill has locked my fingers in my sleeves
Though this freezing weather was foretold,
it seems to be a bit worse than perceived.

I scramble quickly down the frozen street
and fumble for my keys with aching hands
I get into my car and crank the heat
my body thaws and smiles- my heart expands.

It’s hard to move my feet in mid-July
My muscles tighten more each stride I take
Sweat’s pouring off my forehead, burns my eyes
Just half a mile ‘til I get a break.

I round the corner, sprint the final feet
and reach the gate, my vision slightly blurred
My sneakers first and then my body, meet
the water with a splash and I’m submerged.

These are the most reminiscent feelings
of when I’m in your arms, warm and healing.

-Amber

Some Spice

This world is so amazing.
This world is such a miracle to even be in existence.
This world would be so bland without the arts.

I find it mind-boggling that we need to 
"spice up"
such an awesome idea as existence
in order to make this life more awesome.

Yet I won't put down this book.

-Amber

Englyn Proest Gadwynog

The end is now upon us.
The smoothest paper has cut
the most calloused palms, and thus
we’ve learned we need more than luck.



-Amber

Englyn Lleddfbroest

We’ve been dancing toe to toe,
hanging round my neck’s a lei,
the weather at home’s snowy,
the worst here is sea algae.

-Amber

Englyn Proest Dalgron

Inside me now lives this poem.
Poetry has its own bone.
In my body, words find home,
‘til onto paper they’re strewn. 

-Amber

Englyn Cyrch

Paper pages bound and torn,
more beautiful when they’re worn.
A kindle just can’t compare.
Oh, beware! To books I’m sworn.

-Amber

Englyn Unodl Crwca

Joshua Minzner loves me.
We might not always agree
(he likes diet coke and tea is my choice,)
but he fills my heart with glee.

-Amber

Englyn Unodl Union

A robin’s egg, a baby boy, the sky,
balloons, a martini,
crayons, the sea, a berry,
the Facebook logo, Slurpee.

-Amber

Englyn Milwr

Steam rolls up into my nose.
Muscles limp, my breathing slows.
One more sip, I start to doze.

-Amber

Englyn Penfyr (Correct)

This week, this month, this moment will fly by.
When from the sky rain does spill,
just as fast, it rolls downhill.

-Amber

Englyn Penfyr

This week, this month, this moment will fly by.
Unexpected rain may spill;
just as fast, it rolls downhill.

-Amber

Poetry Haiku

Poetry is love.
It never gets mad at my
irrational fits.

-Amber

Untitled

It’s amazing how such a big part of your life
can fade into a quiet “hello” at the supermarket.

Years of laughter
into months of bitterness
into years of silence
into soft rapport
at the grocery store.

-Amber

Art

Photos.
Music.
Paintings.
Stories.
Videos.
Drawings.
Sculpture.
Poetry.
If you don’t capture a moment
in a form of art,
it will eventually
be lost

Forever.

-Amber

Without Thought

My journal’s feeling light these days,
without the weight of words in ink.
Ten months and not a half is filled,
the empty pages left un-thrilled;
it’s time to write and not to think.
My journal’s feeling light these days.

-Amber

Sunset Decuain

The purple, pinkish, orange, golden sky
presents itself most boldly in the west.
The colors wrap around a fiery eye
that stares at me- directly at my chest;
they burn a hole and settle ‘neath my breast.
The breeze is cool as sunbeams grow too weak
to tan the skin on shoulders left undressed.

The eye sinks slowly as the seagulls shriek.
The purple, pink, and orange kiss my cheek.
Oh, what a lovely, breathtaking technique.

-Amber

Pocket Full of Lint

No mind is completely reliable.
Memories stored only in the mind
may as well be used as cash in a casino-
it’s a gamble whether or not your memories
will remain in your mind
like the cash in your pocket
during a game of poker.

-Amber

What I Deserve

This is what I’ve longed for.
This is what I’ve silently begged for
after every tear-soaked pillowcase
felt me drift off into sleep.
I’ve cried out for this
on cool summer nights
and ever colder evenings
scattered throughout every other season.
I’ve demanded that
my body would never
quiver
that my stomach would never
constrict
that the breath in my lungs would never
stutter
they way it had so many times before.
This is what I deserve.


-Amber

Writing

Writing.
So necessary.
Ink on paper.
Release of toxic emotion.
Expression.

Writing.
So necessary
Ink on paper.
Eternalization of beautiful memories.

Expression.


-Amber

Inside the Mind of Rippy

Oh, Master.
Oh, supplier of the things necessary for my survival-
my sustenance, my hydration,
 my stuffed birds and hard balls on which to gnaw.
Why have you wronged me so?
After all that I’ve done in attempts to make you happy.
For nearly four years I’ve offered to help you clean,
admire the amazing way you feed yourself using your thumbed hands and utensils,
attempt to introduce myself and learn something about the guests you have over,
and comply (80% of the time) with the rude commands that you bark off at me all day.
I have tried so hard to show you my love and appreciation.
But apparently my “unsanitary” tongue does not do nearly as good a job of cleaning up crumbs as your “Swiffer”,
you order me to leave the room when I stare at you while you’re eating (you yell about how I am “begging”—pshh),
you keep me from recognizing any guests by swatting my fatty behind every time I try to sniff a guest’s aroma beneath their hips,
and I sit, stay, lay down, be quiet, and fetch a great majority of the time when you ask me to!

So here I am, confused and a wee bit sad.
After all of the ways I try to love you,
I’d think you’d reward me and at least allow me to sleep on something softer than that dreadful dog bed (I swear, that thing feels like it’s stuffed with old Milkbones instead of soft stuffing.)
But nope.
50 nights of sleep on your new white sofas and that was enough to ruin any love you had for me.
I can’t help it if drool seeps from my mouth while I sleep.
Nor can I help it if my dirty paws pass dirt onto the things I touch.
Why punish me like this?
Heck, this is torture!
I’m stuck sleeping in the same room as you at night now,
and I use the term “sleeping” loosely.
Maybe I could get some sleep if you humans stopped snoring for five minutes.
Gosh.. If only I could have woken up five minutes before you found me sleeping on the sofa for the past two months.
Hmm.. I got it!
I wonder what you’ll do if my 95 pounds of fat and fur start sleeping on your bed now… 


-Amber

Good morning, my love!

Goodmorning, my love!
The day is grey,
so rest away the day, you may.
But don’t forget that when you rise,
our love will brighten up the skies.
So rise and shine, and lend a kiss!
You’ve slept for hours and were missed.

-Amber

Constructed Poetry

I
enjoy
creating
poetry that
is constructed in
a “form” with lines that rhyme.
Refrains with perfect meter,
trochees, iambs, syllable counts,
assonance and alliteration:
Poetry with form is like a puzzle.
And as much as I enjoy puzzles,
there is something so refreshing
about writing words that say
nothing but what I feel.
No hidden meanings
or messages,
just feelings
on a
page.



-Amber

Annoying

It was almost as annoying
as trying to write
on the last four or five lines of a journal.

-Amber

The Key to Happiness

When one’s in a ticklish mood,

the slightest touch to their hand 

will send them into a roar of laughter.

When one’s scared,

the faintest noise in the distance

will make them freeze with fear.

When one’s having a bad day,

the most minor inconvenience 

will make them feel like everything just keeps getting worse.

And when one’s feeling loved,

 they’re thrown into a state of bliss

that makes everything feel like it’s going to be okay.

What’s the key to happiness?

Just love and be loved.

-Amber

World History

What a wonderful subject to study.
Old to new, it’s intriguing, to say the least.
Rail-thin, curly haired man 
Lulling me to sleep- not so intriguing.
Doodling and drawing trumps ancient Egypt and
   Mesopotamia every Wednesday night.                     


He yammers about the things I’d love to know,
I write poems and pretend to write notes.
Sitting to my right is my distracted boyfriend
Typing away and surfing the web,
Only once in a while does he take a real note.
Really? The professor is reviewing the chapter with a
   and a hand comparable to a third grader's.


Yawn…



-Amber

Work

I was fighting the clock.
Time was winning
for what seemed like an eternity...
But at the first second of the seventh hour,
I pulled ahead,
punched out,
got in my car,
and won.


-Amber

Po- ...

Poem.
Pome.
Po- uhm.
Po- ehm.
Po- im.

Who wants cookie-cutter poems?
Pomes?
Po- uhms?
Po- ehms?
Po- ims?

-Amber

Rain

It’s bathed in darkness, but its presence is certain.
Composing art on the windows,
performing lullabies on the roof.
It’s the epitome of beauty and mystery.

But in this world, the most beautiful and mysterious
are often the most threatening.

Embrace the beauty.
Dance in the mystery.

But when it suddenly gains strength,
the art on the windows will become shattered windows on the floor.
The soft lullabies on the roof will crescendo into something more powerful…
something not your taste.

Stay strong.

It’s intent was not to cause ill feelings,
and the force will always weaken.
Remember the nights surrounded in blankets
while it filled your world with just a little more comfort.
Sooner than you think,
the art on the windows and the music on your roof will reemerge..
or disappear.

Appreciate it while it’s here.




-Amber