Poetry by Amanda Eifert

” The Writings On The Wall Reveal You”

 

——
Am I real?
When you look at me,
Do you see me for me?
Do you care what you see?
I’ve only questions,
While you play your cards close.
I’m not going to cheat,
Peer at your hand because —
I’m afraid what I’ll see.
Such truths, I don’t want to gaze upon —
Unfaithfulness,
Only physicality, sexuality;
No emotion or affection,
No conversation in person,
No Voice stroking voice.
—–
Hands speak with our words,
Eyes glint and reveal,
Secrets you’d rather hide,
With sunglasses.
Staring at your hand,
Trying to beat my cards.
Poker face silent, emotionless;
All bets are off.
Time to show me your cards,
What the river dealt you —
Matters not; but for now,
Play how you like.
Fold if you’re scared,
Of falling into deep,
Of feeling emotion.
Your heart picking-up,
Thumping a beat.
——
But, perhaps, I’m a woman for fodder,
For a lonely night at home.
Perhaps, I’m not pretty enough,
Not thin enough for you.
Maybe, you know I’ll ask questions?
Questions you have trouble answering.
Maybe, you know —
I’ll turn the wanderer in your soul home,
And welcome you in my arms.
Maybe you’re not ready,
Perhaps, your only an ass.
A nice way of saying,
Other words I want to shout.
Perhaps, I’m only a date —
And one night.
Is this how you treat women?
I’m too strong for your tricks.
——-
You may forget my face,
My name, my body.
You may let me do the walk of shame,
Thinking I’m fooled by you,
The man I liked all along;
You may believe —
Finally, you wore me down.
And now I’m flattened,
Nothing left to sculpt,
Nothing left to shatter.
Smithereens, glass embedded.
You may have led me astray,
Made me consider:
I no longer think,
Some guys are good,
And some guys do care.
——
But when I chose you,
Maybe I didn’t realize,
I was choosing all wrong.
Maybe, I should’ve gazed above me —
Seen the ‘writings on the wall.’
Seen the woman in her glory,
Waiting for her own life,
On wings to rise and fly;
From your lies and tricks;
You didn’t shatter me,
I saw all the writings,
Every word on that damn wall,
I know all your horrific secrets;
And I read them all.

 

“The Darkest Faeries”

——
The wings of a faerie, a delicate lace.
Transparent and glowing with,
Each faeries myriad colour choice.
You can see their wings flash,
When the sun begins to set;
When echoes of the rainbow,
Give one the illusion of colours bold.
But it’s the faeries who are —
As beautiful as they’re deadly,
Luring children to their faerie lands.
Turning your infants to faeries,
To live many ages;
To play wicked games, faeries play.
—-
They’ve no offspring so they steal,
A babe fed; left in their crib.
Mothers are distraught,
Be not surprised; it’s what faeries do.
You’ve heard the tales and watched,
As your mother, and her mother before her.
Still you cry and sob;
Picking-up your biggest kitchen knife.
Faeries are terrible beings,
We read false truth about,
They don’t actually want to help.
They’re evil when alive too long.
——-
Faeries so tiny,
Keep their race alive.
Promptly, wave their hands;
The wisps of their garments,
Sleeves like streamers trailing long.
Chanting magic ancestors taught,
They curse your darlings with bright wings.
And turn you and you husband away,
Searching for,
Your their stolen little ones.
Though your broken-hearted mother,
You keep up your fight.
You want your children to grow,
Not become an evil faerie;
Live a Millennium to burn.
——-
Faeries lead astray those,
Who try to capture them.
You who yearn for your babes,
To get your children home.
As faeries, your darlings grow in the blink of an eye;
Become adult faeries in days,
Not knowing they were humans young,
Merely, days ago.
——
Mother’s sorely missing kids,
Are wandering the forest for —
Where ancient faeries hide.
Faeries lie to stolen babes,
Say they were unwanted,
So the faeries gave them home.
And rainbow wings to one day,
Catch the eye of yet more babes.
Lost before a parent sees,
A child stolen gone.
——
Faeries change your young,
Dawning them with gossamer wings,
Knowledge of mischief and celebration.
A faeries life is of none-stop festivity,
With little meaning;
And no knowledge do faeries posses,
But the knowledge to take;
Those you hold so dear–
It’s why you burn their wings,
In the candle lit at night;
So, they will never curse your home,
And bring you a mother’s tears,
——
Why you learned to take your knife,
And kill the old faeries weird,
To end their malicious games.
Take back your children,
Undo the magic faeries formed.
You’ll burn and stab their wings all night,
Until your children,
And your neighbour’s young,
Are finally, safe at home.
So the faeries fade away.
Die out with no offspring,
Because of you;
Your child lives.
And never will you cry again,
From a fairy interfering.
You, most feisty mother,
For your perseverance, you have won.

Shadorma: “Women War Not Alone”

—–
Such times as,
The ones she lives through.
She conforms,
Yet wants more.
Sees hurt, it perpetuates;
Never healing whole.
—-
Self-harm and —
Hate common, if she–
Keeps hurting;
Harms others–
Hate with false judgement, it wins.
Woman, think thoughtfully.
—–
End the pain,
Close the doors so she,
Locks terror,
Out in cold.
An unforgiving night, reminds —
Her, fight gently.
—–

Keep working;
I know her battle,
It’s as old,
As the earth.
Men and women must fight for,
Prosperity.
—–
If only,
For a moment’s time,
Pax, and rest.
She is wise,
For seeing tomorrow’s pain;
Unburdens those lame.
——-
Light in the,
Darkness, shines, provides —
Glimmer of,
Hope, assured —
Fighting, with her words and sword;
Hoping for happiness.
——
Good prevails.
Light’s glow permanent.
Good’s older.
She drinks wine;
Thinking of mornings, sunrise —
Reminds her she’s loved.
—–
Leaves on tree,
Dusting her path yet,
Leaves mark the —
Passing of,
Seasons; each one she shines light,
Earth keeps turning while —
—–
She worries,
Weeping in bad times,
She doesn’t
Forget what,
Was fought for at heavy cost,
She lives; others fought —
——
For her now.
Because in their time,
They had few —
Rights at all.
Doing wife’s duty despite,
Desire for freedom — rights.
——
She looks for,
Light in the tunnel,
At the end–
Of the war.
She fights not alone; she holds —
Strength in her faith bold.
——
For her God,
Never gives up, for —
Women so —
Precious; God–
Created Man and her equals.
Partners; she’s not less.
——-
Complement,
She smiles because she —
Knows inner —
Completeness.
Remembers God’s son best knows,
Inequality.

Biography:

Amanda is a writer, blogger, and student in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. She has a BA in English Literature, a certificate in Residential Design, and is pursuing an online MFA at UBC in May 2017. She loves being creative and imaginative in her writing. She enjoys drawing and acrylic painting, dogs, hanging with her friends and family, Netflix, scrapbooking, and yoga. Amanda blogs at: www.mandibelle16.wordpress.com.

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First Guest Writer on Ink and Quill: K. Morris

k.MORRIS

It is with great excitement, I would like to introduce my first feature guest on Ink and Quill. Author, writer and poet Kevin Morris from New Author Online. It is honour to feature Kevin. Please follow the links to read more of Kevin’s work.

NAME:
Kevin Morris
COUNTRY:
United Kingdom
AGE:
47

Please tell us a little about yourself:
I was born in Liverpool on 6 January 1969, a year best known for my birth and a relatively minor event known as the moon landing! Having attended school in Liverpool, I went on to read history and politics at University. Having obtained my BA, I went on to gain a MA in political theory.
I moved to London in 1994 and live near Crystal Palace, where my home overlooks a large garden and an historic park.

When did you first start writing?
I began writing in 2012.

 

“I write to express myself. One must scratch an itch, otherwise it will drive you insane!”

 

Where do you find your writing motivation and inspiration?
I draw inspiration from nature and my inner self. The singing of birds, the wind on my face and the scent of newly fallen leaves all inspire me to write, as do my observations of current affairs.

What are your current projects?
I am currently working on the publication of a print edition of my book, “Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”. “Lost” constitutes my latest collection of poetry and is currently available in ebook format.

poetry ebook

Writers/poets who inspire and influence your own writing?
I am inspired by many poets including the 19th century English poet Ernest Christopher Dowson, A E Housman and Emily Dickinson, to name but a few.

Have you any published works, or do you plan on publishing in the future?
I have published the following works:

“Dalliance; A Collection Of Poetry And Prose”,

“The First Time”,

“The Suspect And Other Tales”,

“An Act Of Mercy”,

“Sting In The Tail”,

“Samantha”,

“Lost In The Labyrinth Of My Mind”,

“Street Walker,”

“The Girl Who Wasn’t There And Other Poems”.

For information regarding my books please visit my blog’s “About” page.

What process did you go through to get your book published?
I self published my books using Amazon’s Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) facility, which is available to anyone wishing to publish their work.

Tell us about your writing process:
I prefer writing in the morning when I’m firing on all cylinders. I do, however also write during the afternoon and, on occasions in the evening. I find it difficult to write with background noise and prefer total silence (other than the singing of birds which gives me great pleasure).
Being registered blind, I use screen reading software called Jaws, which converts text into speech and braille enabling me to use a standard Windows computer.

Do you have a specific writing style/genre?
I have written several collections of short stories and one long short story entitled “Samantha”. My preferred genre is poetry and my time is now spent composing poems rather than short stories or flash fiction.

Do you have any advice for other writers?
Don’t get discouraged, and believe in yourself.

Please share your favourite piece/s with us and a brief description of the inspiration behind it:
During the Christmas break (December 2015), I visited my mum and her partner in Liverpool. While there I went for a walk with my guide dog, Trigger. The evening was closing in and leaves blew around my feet. The blowing of the leaves reminded me of the fragility of life which lead to the composition of my poem,

Leaves Blown At Night

Leaves blown at night.
Delight
Sorrow.
This moment we borrow
And think of a tomorrow
That may never come.
We run
Perchance have fun
Then, ‘Tis done”
My poem, “Shall I Compare Thee” came to me while out walking with my dog and I wrote it down on returning home:
“Shall I compare thee to a prickly pear?
Thou art more fair
Than the wild rose
That in thorny profusion grows.
There the bee goes
Then stings my nose”. .

Would You Like To Be A Guest Writer and/or Poet On Ink and Quill?

guests

From the success of Ink and Quills Share a Poem Link.

I would like to invite poets and writers to be a feature guest on Ink and Quill.

If you think you might like to be a feature guest, please email

inkandquill@outlook.com.au

Please include: A brief bio and links to your websites and if there is something you’d like to write about specifically, or share.

And I will get back to you with the details.

Thanks

Jen

xxx