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Best Poems Written by Amanda Simcox

Below are the all-time best Amanda Simcox poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

A Drink To You

In light of good memory of how things were, a woman stands unguarded.
Pleasantries, talents, and secretive skills.
I offered to you a drink, allowing you in.
Thinking I had chosen carefully over 37 others. This vexed me.
Read and reread the commentary side-by-side distant eyes and sad smile.
Extracting honesty from typed remarks.
When our eyes met for the first time and you had a smile that broadened
As I drew nearer through a sea of hurrying people, just knowing that it was you.
You felt like home, like mother's sweetened tea.
Later, a little scared to let you drink from my cup, to be your rebound.
You did not hold back your ale, I let you lead.
That first drink of you that sip of your lips, melted the iciness of my demeanor.
My thirst for you consumed better judgement. Intoxication of the moment quinched by your touch.
Offered to you my liquid that sheltered liqueur. Wine housed away deep within me.
Robust when allowed to air. Poured out slowly not to be bruised.
Your skin, your touch like sweet cream. Pouring into me.
To you I poured back mead. Whispering softness in dim moonlight.
Delightful nothings in each others ears.
Trusting the sincerity of a drunken mind.
Rapture in sleeping with you the first in a long time.
The next morning you left the taste of vinegar in a short, curt kiss.
So now several days pass and nothing not a hint of you anywhere.
I ask for closure you respond with the crux of the matter.
Hurtful this declarative statement of wanting to taste test more.
Almost more than I can bare. Though i did not mind being the mouth wash,
Removing the bitter taste of a day old tequila from your palate.
The aspirin for this hangover of past drunkenness.
Codependency in a relationship to this drink.
But that was not how I advertised myself.
You did not follow directions and warning labels.
More to the point, that was my lot in this sell in our path of life.
How we should meet, and offer coffers to one another.
Now I close this cask, and my cellar save what is left for another.
For I am not a lady who can stomach cheap beer and the after taste of malted hops.

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

The Joys of Online Dating

Reading captions besides smiling lips. 
Reveiwing lifesyles and basics.
 Choosing in a moment or over quiet deliberation whether
 to reply to a flirtatious glance. 
Finding, more and more, that I have little experience at this game.
  In its ruless, non-conformist, strange land.
  Where one easily becomes prey to wolves and vultures.

Some introducations drip of the bitter venom;
 Others no etiquette with little skills of we social animals.
 Regardless, we all call out seeking some one to fill the void prior relations left.
Some were a literal " Yikes!"
 Their manner seemed afraid that smiling
 would either break the camera or their face.
Others were the hearldings of wounds previous relationships had inflicted,
 leaving them open to fester, ooze, and putrify.

I do not wish to be the antibiotic they need;
 a Florence Nightingale they want to tend and bangage these sores.

Others have no interests save the industry paying for this lot of cyberspace.
Fairly boring not much to say.
  I would not be able to carry on a conversation beyond pleasentries and introductions.
Though I do not understand if it is me or them at fault

More to the point when I allow myself to be taken by the hand by another touched on theneck by a gentle hand A kiss so soft so warm melting the icy armor, 
coolness of my demenor.
 Diva gladly abdicates her throne.
Needy for a touch of a lover, consistant and sincere.
More cautiously do I proceed; not to let anyone, just anyone, in marring up my house.

Too many years I have tucked away 
these true feelings boiling deep with in me.
So very few in the world can hold a candle to my expectations.
   For the moment diva will keep her crown.

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

A Quirk of Nature

This quirk of nature has no definition, formless.
Boundless, yet gravitation it pull us together.
Ties that bind in chemicals and sensory receptors.
The limbic system, amegdela, primal carnal.
Holding no preconceived notions form whom we shall yield it up to.
Lift up our cup to allow,
Lips of attraction to drink to their contentment whether in short sips or hurried gulps.
Finding delight in quenching another's (our own) thirst for this liquid.
Revealing the fulfillment for another.
Allow that person to wrap themselves around me in their fog.
Spinning a cocoons of comfort.
The telling factors that bring us near one another, close enough to offer a taste.
Maybe those soulful eyes forelorned and distant,
with the embodiment of a truer self held deep in the liquid black pupil.
Or the curviness of eyelashes undulation around bony prominence.
Or perhaps it is parted lips engaged in conversation.
Maybe the tousle of hair tilt of the head.
Strong chin.
Gestures or logic and analysis.
Could it be the way they are a loner, perhaps we would like to capture that wolf and tame it.
Fullness of their laughter and lightness of spirit only shown in a moment of intense humor.
The particular way they speak a word or leave something unsaid.
For their audience to be left guessing.
Perhaps it is the thought of whispered words between two in a passionate embrace.
The want to have a cheek gently touched.
Or maybe it is not that at all.
What if it is a quirk in their persona, an inconsistency in their demeanor.
The lack of coothe the need for social etiquette. Mischievousness in a smile. A wounded warrior in need for solace and repair.
How an explicative may fly forth in excitement. Or the need for someone to tell the they have something on their chin.
We offer to one another
These drinks these quaffs of intoxicating acts.
Reciprocation is desired.

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

Ice Queen

I am not meloncoly or a snob . 
Just shy and demoner.
I am not phychotic or frigid.
For a fire smolders below.

I am not a witch or an ice queen.

You must coax a pearl from an oyster. 
 When you wade in to the waters of my soul. 
Gently touch that no-name place along the jawline and the neck.
Worry your lips upon mine 
Kiss me so soft so enflamed with passion that the ambers of that fire
lifts from a dark place inside me.
Trace the outline of my neck with soft touchs of this velvet. 
Use every part of yourself to request that sacred gift. 
Take you hand and paint the outline of my body with the ease and grace
 of a painter upon his canvas.  
Coloring my soul with oranges and yellows, hues of desire.
Raise the hair on my body with you drawing heavy breath. '
Nibble earlobes, bite my lower lip. For there is a direct connection from "a" to "b."

Watch me as this gift is unwrapped inch by inch, devour my every move with you eyes. 
 Let my coos be music to your ears.
Touch my silken skin which you crave, as an  addict never satified.  
The scent of my womanness the taste of my desire is feast offered to you my king.
Show me a tender hand in this time we share. 
Allow me to drink you up, parched thirst never quenched.

Still think that I am an Ice Queen... Come hither and I will show more.

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

Other Than You-- (Part I)

Again I am at my favorite coffee shop, sipping cappichino wanting
to write about something other than you.
Wanting half-heartedly to move to a different page in my life.
Needing someone else to fill that void you have left.
When I shut my eyes, you are there.
Small things constantly remind me of you.
Like Fate whispering to me from another plane to hold on a little longer.
At night my head fills with hazy dreams of us.
As I lay alone at night staring up into the dark,
your smile flashes infront of me.
I cry and reach out for you yet wishing that you are happy in your place in life.
I swim in this oceanic thought drifting out with the tide of a reality that I wish were true:
You, in your study working on another book, typing away.
Contenence of seriousness and contemplation= logic
Muscles of your jaw tense, your eyes moving in time with written lines
as the light of the screen highlights your face.
You lean forward as if to extract something from your works.
Hesitantly you begin to type again. Read what is there,
digest the phrasing, grimice, then fiercely press the backspace key erasing
forever that paragraph..
The frustration in these obsene lines.
I sense that you are stuck.
Leaning back in your highbacked leather chair staring at the screen.
Fingers arched in a prayer that your muse will come and bless you with a few lines.
To complete a thought.
As they move forth and back over pursed lips...Your concentration, to save an ill-fated ship from the clutches of a diabolical empire,
is such that you do not notice me standing in the doorway.
For the moment, I prefer it that way.
I take pleasure in watching you work,
pounder the course of the universe and not realize that you are being observed.
As I did when we were in the desert.
When I was on guard duty with the 240 Bravo that you taught me how to use.
I would watch you walk away from the TOC,
hands clasped behind your back, head covered with your booney cap lowered watching the ground. Puzzlement over the actions of the day.
Still, you have yet to see me standing there watching you...........

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

Isabella's Song

She came to me one hot summer afternoon. 
At 1206 topped with fiery hair and a little white tuff.  
Silent cry.  Nervous was I when they gave her to me.  A little cherub with fragile wings Blue eyes open wide and wild.  Smile upon lips 
Body no bigger than an afterthough.
Tiny little thing almost a dream, all perfect and new. 
 Her day was that of Emancipation
 Cried to be freed of shackles other babes paid no mind.
  Arms could not be swaddled to her sides.  
Shrugging shoulders as hands she opened and closed as if to clutch the air about her.
Isabella, warrior child, to speak your name invokes all that is good and pure.  Wept did I the night that you did not wake me at half past three.
 Just you and me in the dark, wrapped in blankets, our quite time.
Elegant angel baby determined and strong
My binder to this world keeper of my heart and soul.

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

Chaos and the Art of Love

I cannot count the number of times that people have told me to not think so much to simplify my life when I felt stressed when life was seemingly out of hand.  What most fail to realize is that it is not about simplification.  Life is about discipline.  Life can be as complicated as a person can make it so long as there is order within it, Balance.
Chaos is simplistic in its randomness but unproductive on a whole.  Most often I have found the will or notion is simple the action complex. The will to love is simple, easy in the notion the thought of it.  Either it exists in us or it does not.  The capacity and the action however, requires more than just thought and words, the randomness.  The art of loving, this system constantly moving toward a state of increasing entroy, requires order, purposefulness, and attentiveness. The mind is the catalyst the lock and key to keep the reaction moving forward.

When it comes to dealing with others, we cannot force love to happens either the intent is there or not.
The questions remains is the person worth the patience?

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Variation of Form

Its beauty lies in symmetry
An exactness of natural harmony
In particles of these variables.
 Composed of possibility.

A slope made from just a touch
Seen in this, an altered form, 
 Found using a point given,
There is unique serenity in such.

Curves that flow in one direction
Or test limits of reality 
In places considered undefined 
In the course of numerical selection.
A chain of Independence 
That implies continuity
 In an equation made for two,
 Shows the equality of this dance.

An overwhelming feeling, aha, exhilaration.
I have for higher mathematical computation.

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

Other Than You (Part Iii)

We have exchanged few words today for I know you have the need to problem solve, fire watch deep in your mental cave.

I shut my eyes, to take in the atmosphere, there is something alluring about your study. A fire burning,the arid smell of heat, the heaviness, dark woods and musk of books fill this room.
Knick knacks placed around allined in military precesion. Its neatness, all you. In this modern cave, where your thoughts could almost be plucked out of the air.
reflections of you, chains of events, streams of conscieousness.
You look way from the screen when you finally sense my presense. It lifts your spirits momentarily as you again worry at your fingertips.
Your chocolate brown eyes seem to pool. forelorned smile with raised eyebrows knowing that you have not yet planned how to rescue an ill-fated ship from the empires clutches,.

"May I come in,", I ask.

"Please, the captain needs a reprie." You smile you relax and open your arms to me as I saunter across the floor.

"Only for a moment, I need a hug."

I sit in your lap. You wrap your arms about me. Penelope returns to the arms of her Odyssius. Each embrace of you is like that of a lover gone from me for twenty years.
Allowing for one another to touch skin feeling one another's warmth.
I whisper to you," she is asleep when you find that your ship is out of parrel your first mate would like to converse with her captain in her quarters."
I stroke your cheek........ and smile wrily You smurk shake you head with an air of oh my goodness.

I slip off you lap. Move back across the floor and out of the door as I look back smiling slighty.
You begin musing again for a moment, and move back to that realm of galaxies and wharped spaces.
To free the hostages of that ship to please your lady in waiting.

But this will never be, all a dream far away and long ago. A poet's story pearly notions strung together in a necklace weighing me down like an achor.
Draging my mind down into an abyss. So, I unclasp this bobble, this trinket of your past affections. And let you slip away I watch you move deeper into the darkness of no-where land wanting to reach out and save you in memory's keepings.
Longing for the treasured touch of your fingers. However I take one final glance back as we move farther from on another, I swim quickly upward and break throught to the surface of the tide.

Details | Amanda Simcox Poem

Into Infinitum

I will try once more to move on.  Put you on that self in memory. Place you amongst highschool sweethearts and childhood dreams, a safe place for your keeping. 
 Occasionally, move into that corner where you reside. Take you down, gingerly wipe away the dust, hug good memories, and discard the rest. 
Smiles in the darkness and starlight. Beautiful old soul. Eyes of chocolate brown.  Words wrap around me, a silken threaded blanket, studded with pearls of wisdom.

Physical hurt in our parting ways. A hot dagger plucks out pieces of my heart and soul, leaving them behind in that room for you. 

When we came together for one last talk, I assured myself on the drive, I was in love with memory. Chasing after ghosts and shadows of a dream.  

I wish that were true. Life is rarely like the movies. Where boy meets girl, fall in love, run off into the sunset, happily ever after the end.

The hurt of loss will fade with time, like ruins of some great acropolis, just the nature of human memory.

But this love, a love so pure for you.  A love imperfect and sometimes selfish, but giving and unyielding. Quirky and needy at times others independent and reclusive. 
I have nurtured it through time, and will do so into ............

infinitum.