dream-time remembering

ancient symbols of burning gold

set in stone. pressed like buttons

a sacred code

secret doorway opening


must be kept safe

from thee


claustrophic seeds are sown

through the cramped tight,

wet hallways


once arm embracing

a fully rounded womb


the other hand clutched to hers

“this child comes soon”


must be kept safe

from thee


a repeated mystery


Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon


child’s pose

sleep deprived

mentally sensitized

the words~

struggling, and stumbling


self doubt chimes


distracted by chaos

tormented by ego


silently screaming through emotional hell

to her proverbial knees she quickly fell


head to the floor

tears threatening once more


pause, just breathe

just breathe. deeply


from the floor she arose

re-centered through prose


Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

The East-side

Along the east-side where the fae may roam

outside my bedroom window is where the latest have grown


shrooms have sprouted

where faerie feet have stepped

today a four leaf clover

with a couple daisies in my midst


if not for the prompt,

they may have been missed


vast varieties of shapes and colors

they’ve always catch my glimpse


Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

swept away

what intentions we are weaving

whispered prayers on trembling lip


searching for signs

fencing hummingbirds

before the solstice sunrise


lying, body upon the sand

rumbling vibrations, waves

clearing, grounding the soul


questions posed with no answers

worries cleared, like tide swept sand

while storms gather

steer clear of ship wrecks


Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon


Am I

Am I, perfectly perturbed?

I am

Am I, wonderfully witty?

I am

Am I, consciously creative?

I am

Am I, decidedly determined?

I am

Am I, titillatingly thoughtful?

I am

Am I, graciously grateful?



Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

Its almost time

Looking forward to this years marathon.  Though it looks like I’ll be doing this one by phone only.


It Was Only Yesterday

In the same

Yesterday’s dawn

Only now, the end has drawn


Waters still and calm

Though I know

Sleep won’t come


Easily, on weakened



Knowledge, and experience

Though, forlorn

Picked up, like stones

Upon, a dreamt up shore


If only dreams

Were giants

Crushing, forever more

Incasing thoughts


I am, a worthy poet

My battle

Hard fought


Safe and sound

As this dawn sings

In Victory

Missed Opportunity

My true calling?

What is with

All the questioning


Pointedly objected

Forever scarred

Early on, from ones she loved

Now weary, scared


Exhilarating- freeing

In creative be-ing

But it’s not a job


How to change that feeling

Dig, further in

It’s okay, to start again


Always easier

Said than done

Always slipping

Stumbling, fumbling

Opening the wounds

Of old


Overcoming, so profound


Portrait of a Poetess

Hair, pinned up tight

Binding, curls unyielding

Like words, bound in dictionaries


Linked chains

Weigh heavy

On weary shoulders

Unabridged; worldly worries

She carries


Herself, with style and grace

No loss for words

Draped in the velvety meaning

Robes of soft, but solid black

Grounding the energy

That attacks


She reaches for stability

From earths, hard grown

Wood lacquered, like her tongue


Turning, slightly slipping

Left, but right

Cleverly hiding falter

In her painted posture



Exhausted Exhilaration

Body tired

Brain stone cold



Here we are

Longing, dreading

Finish line in sight

Three more to go


High on caffeine

And inspiration

Music blasting, silently

Exhausting, batteries


Running on empty

Living like renegade

Love the underdogs


Parade! Parade!

Did the circus come to town?

We are the  poets of the night


It’s always different

Then when it came before


That’s what words are for!