Biography of Amber Glistener
I am a middle school writer who loves writing and music and art. Some of the things I write, people may think me insane for doing so. I must say this though, most of my writing of poetry is based off of true emotion. I love Texas-Style fiddling, blue-grass, country, classical, Celtic, and christian music. I am also in the middle of writing two novels.
Amber Glistener Poems
I'M Thankful For
As an author I must realize, All the things he has given me, The love that surrounds my life, The faith that inspires it.
The house is creaking in the night, of that I am sure. Underneath the floorboards are squeaking with no light, A hypnotic kind of lure.
How Will You Be Remembered?
Everyone has a story, but some are surly uncertain how to tell it. In a way this can be a good thing. Let others tell it for you.
A Weary Soldier
Tired eyes watch the weary reflection of the soldier, who walks without pride or judgment, and fears none but God.
I sit upon this rock, and stare up at the sky, with brilliance the stars shine, to recreate would be meaningless to try.
What Is Love?
What is love, why does it exist, it confuses me, like walking into a mist.
Voices Of The Past
The voices are echoing, sad somber songs, a dancing off the walls, it wont be very long.
The Brink Of A Battle
</></>One night when the moon had just risen, A young maiden of golden hair sat upon a tree branch, her hair a shining through the night, the hilt of her sword she held so tight,
</>There once was a man named Tod, who acted extreamly odd, he sat in a ditch, and sang out of pitch,
</>Praise him, let your voice ring out, let his name be heard, through the mountains, chant and yell about his glamorous glory. Feel his power flow through you.
There are those who rest a dreamless sleep, and those who dream visions of indifference, but the dreamers who are the most important, are the ones who's nights remain vivid and steep.
The world is still with hope. We have lost much else, but there still remains hope. What few have noticed is the state that life is now in. Hardly the sun is astonishing enough for them.
Why must I be in such a predicament? The choice between this and that. Which sends me to my destiny, whether or not I may be sure of whom.
</>There once was a man named Tod,
who acted extreamly odd,
he sat in a ditch,
and sang out of pitch,
while chewing on a piece of cod.