Biography of Amanda Swindahl
I have graduated high school, and i am currently in college. I love to write. It is that one subject i always took an interest in, and I learned how to write a poem in eighth grade. I had a wonderful teacher in 9th grade that taught me no limitations to what you have to say in a poem, that free verse is a real poem, not something that has to ryhme to sound good. It just has to flow. I find it alot easier to write about tough situations because they are what keeps a suspense for me when i read others. I guess you could call it a place where i can be free and think for myself and not have to worry about what others think of me or my poetry, how can you truely judge a poem, it either touches you with a lasting impression, or it slightly draws you in enough to read about it.
I dont think my poems are anything out of the ordinary, but i do have my own style. Its an art, and i would do anything to create my own masterpiece! -Amanda
Amanda Swindahl Poems
Written by: Amanda Swindahl Little girl with dark hair, and freckles.
Touch me with your whispering words, Let me feel your soft spoken truth.
Take a deep breath. A breath to fragile to take, lost in the moment of our memories,
She stands so eleganty, she stands so pretty, pretty girl is suffering, pretty girl is drowning,
Written By: Amanda Swindahl Patterned sand beneath my feet, Brown sugar between my toes, Big blue rolls in stealing it away,
Butterflies In Earthquakes
Wick And A Flame
Ignite these Feelings; here comes the flame, ready to manipulate its every move, Ageing on a wick, but it dances without boundaries. Tell the tears to feel no pain, the secrets and no shame.
This And That
I don't have words, I have pictures and memories. Do you remember this, I am holding onto that,
Adrenalin Tears... She floats.
Catch a wave, cast your fears away,
Battle Ground Rekindled
Enlighten me, you struck me to the core,
Tenderly Fallen, Deprived and losing,
Written by: Amanda Swindahl Hush sounds breathe across the room,
Stitches Without Mending
Written by: Amanda Swindahl
Time is temperamental, a robbery aggrieved, an irrational motive.
Down, Down, Down.
Time is stealth, a mockery of the heart,
Sneaking up on you just as you realize it's too late.
Time slips through you with a grasp of your heart,
Down, Down, Down.
a flood of vengeance soaking through.