Amera Andersen Poems

The metered value of the written word
is likened to a sheet of pristine glass.
It separates the art from the absurd
thus hampering creative thought to pass.
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Frantic in the most frangible
state; I found it!

Crashed through the door,
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Born of the embers of cinnamon myrrh,
taking flight o’re the kingdom of Pharaoh.
The gods gave her pow’r and watched over her,
still she fell from the sky by an arrow.
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A million souls have passed her by
and felt her beauty brush the sky.
Her life was spared to beautify
and so her boughs appear to cry.
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There is a place I go when I’m alone,
a fantasy created in my mind.
Within my world I feel that I am grown;
I have a house where I keep dolls confined.
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diaphanous veils of woven moonbeams,
dancing with stars as two hearts become one.
luminous trails on a pillow of dreams,
ordained to be ours; cannot be undone.
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Consider the mantis that cannot pray;
for it's the wind that keeps his legs clinging.
Or consider the salmon that's fighting her way;
for it's the surge that belays her swimming.
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With each descending step I hear the beat
of sacrificial chants of those who know.
The stone is cold and grey beneath my feet.
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O, to be invoked from Delphian shadows,
to wander midst the mortal living souls.
Everlasting queen and once Apollo’s,
as goddess I was written in the scrolls.
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Uncharted seas of open mind
I captured the soul of the Earth
A cameras’ eye has now enshrined
With glorious beauty and worth
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