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Tamra Amato Poem
Your arm wraps
around her shoulder.
She slips in—wears you
easily and steps in the place
that was our embrace
for eighteen years.
This looks so effortless for you.
Out of breath—
my life crosses the finish line
of a marathon-marriage to this
slow-motion, surreal, stream of pain.
Unsteady on my feet like a nervous bride,
my forevers and until death vows
unceremoniously fade..
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Tamra Amato Poem
perfect rows of corn
thoughts are evenly complete
dreams flirt in green skirts
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Tamra Amato Poem
A contemporary creature,
this Tyrannosaurus Rex is not a carnivore.
He delights in gnashing peanut butter sandwiches
and his habitat is lush
with rocks and bugs and toys
And if I dare suggest he is a little boy--
his mighty roar is deafening.
Its echo captures ancient pains
that live in mother's heart
And for a moment
renders them extinct,
as joy tears them apart.
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Tamra Amato Poem
I am the center of raw and wild feelings.
Born from an ancient spirit of infant and child.
Falling back in a womb of darkness, myself I discover.
Hiding in an egg, I hear a whisper.
My shell is touched by a promise in the wind's soughing.
Infinite breath of wind caresses, I, who am little.
I am conscious of little.
A time before definition or feelings.
Warm, wild wind soughs.
Motion stirs the blueprint of a child.
God in every breath, every whisper.
Take form and discover.
A bud must open in order to discover.
Hesitation and fear cry out from a bud so little.
Inside a chameleon wears it's feelings.
Fright filters through the pores of a child.
Leaf and skin shiver in a dark wind's soughing.
The angelic songs of a river soughs.
Life's song for us to discover.
Along the riverbank runs the child.
Of the future she knows little.
Reflecting in water a spectrum of feelings.
Their sound is a scream, a laugh, a cry and a whisper.
As I grow the acceptable sound is a whisper.
My tears often mix with a shower's soughing.
Bodies aren't meant to cover feelings.
They should be naked dancers that discover.
Their steps are big and little.
Dance with the flow trusting child.
As I grow older, in my soul lives the child.
My heart is the room where she shouts and whispers.
It's a never-land where she will always be little.
Hope sings in a tear-river's soughing
With care and love we'll learn to discover.
We are courageous explorers of feelings.
The child, her voice a prayerful wind's soughing.
A soft reminding whisper not to fear discovery.
Oh little love I am with you always, experiencing together our feelings.
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Tamra Amato Poem
I want to evaporate
into the balmy sky.
Embrace songs and
taste feathered energy.
I want to be gray and
float heavily to you--
Pregnant with rain
and colors of light.
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Tamra Amato Poem
You never write.
You never phone.
And there are strangers
Living in your home.
Where are you Loves?
You’ve disappeared----
Then come unannounced,
Dressed in memory,
And I, clothed in tears.
Immense Light
too huge to hold
Where I wait
Each day, blessed time grows old.
Without end
Flame cradles
All, I see
Add my Loves’
Beginnings and Forever
Be…
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2019
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Tamra Amato Poem
Fish are named
Lazarus and Carl Jung
they swim in the library, art studio,
that spare room
where I write, paint.
Their eyes are the size
of their stomachs.
They mouth dreams
in silence behind glass.
I stare back, envious
of graceful slow motion angel gills
immersed in a tank of tears
gathered from heaven,
capped by corporations,
lugged home from the Dollar Store
to keep the tank full….
On the other side
a breeze streams
over book shelves,
antique typewriters, canvas and paint.
Lazarus and Carl watch me
write, brush colors
and nap...
turn, twist, snore, dream,
dream more….
surreal, real,
really you? here in the deep?
Oh lovely waves of sleep. So many fish in this sea, oh, oh, yes, yes,
you, you, you …with me.
You, evaporate.
Eyes open empty and starved.
Lips spit at the sunrise
as it blinds, blocks out
infinite oceans of you.
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2019
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Tamra Amato Poem
Prayer choice or not
Miscarriage, abort heartbreak
wish-to-be babies
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2019
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Tamra Amato Poem
I hide in Grandma Thora's room.
A velvet and wood reserve,
forbidden to children.
Grandma's heavy, hunting feet
thunder over hardwood floors toward me.
Curled up tight- like a snake.,
praying my thumping chest doesn't climb
over her huge scolding voice,
and betray my hiding place.
Grandma Thora is in cahoots with God-
She is as scary as His commanding bible.
The book, that I didn't ask for, is my birthday gift.
I'm ashamed of my disappointment
that stepped into me when
I tore off the wrapping paper
and found only God's word.
King James in leather is not what I want.
I carve into the skin-thin title page
with a sharp tipped pen,
“Damn you! Go to Hell!”
God, I'm dead now for sure.
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2009
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Tamra Amato Poem
Santa Claus is a scary dude.
Right up there with God.
He watches our every move
and keeps score with a list
that he checks twice to
prepare for judgement day
and what might lay
under the Christmas tree
if you're not found naughty.
I love that little baby in a manger
and angels, shepherds, lambs ,
a bright star to follow.
But the wise mens' gifts are suspect.
Smart shoppers would bring
a rattle, toys, maybe a lullaby.
Santa, Jesus, Christmas,
a season of light, anticipation and anxiety.
The big question pressing hard
like steel on ice.
Skating around sacrifice and salvation.
For God sake who could ever hope to be that nice?
Santa is not around after he delivers,
thankfully he leaves town and
God sleeps like new parents do,
catching some Z's
after an evening of childbirth,
well wishers, three kings.
Christmas morning.
Hurry! Bring your best intention.
Escape! Wake up before anyone.
Open your present moment.
Copyright © Tamra Amato | Year Posted 2014
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