I believe I have reached a point
of creative decline. Been on HP
since 2013. Close to 350 poems.
I may have thought and said
about all I have to offer.

Hard to come up with any real
original worthy material, the
old well might have run dry.
Or maybe my brain is growing
addled. That happens in our 80s.

In idle times I will still look in
on you all. I have enjoyed my
time here and made some fine
and talented writer and poet
friends. Thank you.

Adieu good and gentle people.

Alone in the night
On a dark hill
With pines around me
Spicy and still,

And a heaven full of stars
Over my head,
White and topaz
And misty red;

Myriads with beating
Hearts of fire
That aeons
Cannot vex or tire;

Up the dome of heaven
Like a great hill,
I watch them marching
Stately and still,

And I know that I
Am honored to be
Witness
Of so much majesty.

Peace flows into me
As the tide to the pool by the shore;
It is mine forevermore,
It ebbs not back like the sea.

I am the pool of blue
That worships the vivid sky;
My hopes were heaven-high,
They are all fulfilled in you.

I am the pool of gold
When sunset burns and dies, —
You are my deepening skies,
Give me your stars to hold.

Me?
Are you asking about me now?
Well.
The well has been emptied.
Completely run dry.

There is nothing more.
Wastelands. Badlands.
That’s all that remains now.

Me? Where will I go now?
Wherever the wind blows me,
My friend.

Wherever the wind blows.

When I take my last breath,
I will fight to be free.

I will struggle with every gasp,
I will drag my strife behind me
tired and wrinkled
even in dusty ruins
I will bare my chains,
in between the teeth of angels
they will break for me.

To set myself free
I will break the boundaries
of my imagination
to see all possibilities
ahead of myself.

In between the teeth of angels
lay heavenly possibilities
and beyond the horizon
dreams await me.

©️ 2025 By Amanda Shelton

Actually
white at the knees

the place where
you used to cut them off

and let them
live a second life

as shorts