Biography of Amelia Murray
So I have experienced some years of life. I have tried. I have failed. I have lived. Not died yet, but have imagined it. My mind is not a very bright place and I like it like that. I have been known to be quite 'out there'. I take it that I do not have to explain myself to another poet, these things, feelings and emotions are why a lot of us start writing. Start wanting to change things or escape things. It is why we create our own worlds and walk blindly in reality. My heart beats for my inner worlds. Reality is a strange place for me, it is too happy at moments and others too sad, it doesn't have a balance. It is a scale that keeps tipping from one side then to the other, but I guess that is what makes the world interesting.My poems are rather different, but many poets would probably say the same. Its the eyes you look at the poems with that changes.
Amelia Murray Poems
R.I.P Little Bow-Peep
I felt like writing a poem about life but then something else caught my eye little Bow-Peep going far far astray.
Circles of emotions. Doubts that are empowering, is a flame warm? Does the snow mean winter?
My walls are of glass. The Lord has washed them, They are the purest that they have ever been. My glass used to be brown with filth.
When Tears Are Your Words
Stars are bright in a moonless sky. Grass frosty in the early morning dew The ocean water is lapping the sand as if it will never see it again
Echoes Echoes in the dark Teeth being the main attraction.
I am now a lonesome being, waiting. Waiting for forever to arrive.
Life unwinding... always new people, are any true?
The Mixed Masquerade
Witches pick out their best masks. Ghouls get their best suits. Vampires sharpen their teeth to the point of perfection.
Conjuring up yourself. Talking, but the words are empty.
Your Words Are Lies
One day follows the next, Time is relative. Life is your making. Your tongue slithers.
She stands by a frosted window. Snow lays on her lover, Ground. She's looking into a lighted room, the warmth keeps the frost demons out.
Death has a strange appearance, He comes to reap your soul, before your thoughts can construct. you sway back and forth in a black void,
Empty messages. Eyes spilling over with tears. Fingers set to a purpose. Mouths turning to familiar positions.
I take it back, saying love hurts the most. A dying heart and tears of blood.
It has been eons since we've met.
We have each grown a little older and wiser.
We have traveled through various hearts and many losses,
but we still yearn for a gentle peck.
The distance between us is like a mighty lake
and as thin as a weeping willows leaf.
Mountains separate us in the middle,
but we refuse to let our thoughts break.