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Amera Andersen Poem
Spring
As He looked down from the heavens above,
He created spring and prepared the earth.
He decided Eden needed more love
and made this the season for a new birth.
A perfect garden but man was alone.
One night He caused man to dream in his sleep
and opened his breast removing a bone.
A flower was planted for man to keep.
I am that mate, I’m man's flowering rose.
I was planted in spring in hallowed ground.
Created in beauty the gardener knows,
the flower of man, to him I am bound.
No longer will man be alone to toil.
Planted in spring in God’s loving soil.
Summer
Now is the season I have come to bloom.
Thriving in summer, the gardener’s plan.
Born as a flower within the earth’s womb.
A beautiful rose created for man.
His gift of a flower since time began.
Companion for life, a loving soul mate.
Blossoming strength in the summertime span.
Flowering beauty at the garden gate.
I am that rose, such a wonderful fate.
Strength in beauty, I’m the gardener’s rose.
Created for man so we can relate.
I stand behind him where the garden grows.
Grace in beauty and feminine power.
Standing with him, I’m the summer flower.
Fall
Fall is the season of power and might.
A soul mate I was created to be
and placed in the garden at God’s decree.
Behind my man in the gardener’s sight,
a feminine rose is the male delight.
As I stand next to him, for all to see,
my mystical power that set him free
and the gardener smiled for it was right.
Fall is the season I start to relax,
the breeze is provoking my rest and sleep.
It is the season, our work is now done.
Together all year we learned all the facts
and memories that we, forever keep.
For we have been blessed together as one.
Winter
Winter lends a blanket of snow
here in the place where gardens grow.
Blossomed all year beautifully dressed.
Winter has come, it’s time to rest.
The gardener knows the reason,
my beauty doubles next season.
I gave him strength, held to my breast.
Winter has come, it’s time to rest.
My man smiles because of the rose.
A winter sleep is just repose.
A rose for a man, passed the test.
Winter has come, it’s time to rest.
Winter lends a blanket of snow.
Winter has come, it’s time to rest.
Author Notes:
Spring: Shakespearian sonnet
Summer: Spenserian sonnet
Fall: Petrarchan sonnet
Winter: Kyrielle sonnet
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
See the symphony of light o’er the sea.
Softly the agony resends softly.
Free rising orb setting harmony free.
Brightly absorb with a song so brightly.
Aurora light from morning aurora.
Song of the night is now operas' song.
Flora delight; like blossoms of flora.
Long is the sight with emotions so long.
Rising crescendo with morning rising.
Serene innuendo leaves mind serene.
Surprising opera; light surprising.
Pristine genera of human pristine.
So open your heart let the light sing so.
Know symphony light, and your mind will know.
Author Notes:
Shadow Sonnet with internal rhyme.
Shadow Sonnet created by Amera M. Andersen may be written in any sonnet
style. The Shadow takes place at the beginning and ending of each line as the
words are identical or homophonic.
14 lines
9 or 10 syllables per line
Should have a volta or pivit
Iambic pentameter is not necessary
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
O my dearest heart, thou hast shed a tear,
casting melancholy shadows within.
Your continence has brought my soul so near,
‘tis liken to a concert violin.
The burdens of many, loom in your heart
and you forgot my pain in crescendo.
I beg you dearest; set my strings apart,
hear me, without callus innuendo.
At the concerts’ end, silence fills the hall.
You pick me up, caress my finished wood.
Feel the trust, in an instrument so small
and finely tuned with love that’s understood.
So dear, see my stratovarious heart;
regain my trust and n’er tear it apart.
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
I opened the diary of her mind,
as this dark woman, came into my life
and I turned her pages only to find,
a tortured soul that is filled with strife.
She penned on her pages in blood red ink,
closing the cover to keep people out.
She’s petrified, of what others might think,
If they read her mind and witness her doubt.
I have a lover a kind hearted soul,
who gives of himself to make her feel free
but this deranged woman will eat him whole;
my all trusting lover, too blind to see.
I need to protect him, keep him from harm,
before she extracts his soul with her charm.
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
It was Saturday night, time for the dance.
There in my wardrobe, a little black dress.
A formal affair so I couldn’t wear pants.
I’m a vanity queen, I must confess.
I looked in the mirror, just a short glance.
The dress was all wrinkled, needed a press.
Smoothing the skirt there were terrible signs.
The little black dress, showed my panty lines.
I thought about this to make a decision.
My reflection was awful making me moan.
My little black dress may need a revision.
Panty lines showed, where my hips had grown.
This horrible sight that I did envision.
When I bought this dress I was skin and bone.
There’s only one way to impress the guys,
So under my dress is a naked surprise.
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
Thirteen swings; the pendulum blade
Blistering stings the irons made
Razor steel; encroaches my face
The rats squeal, infesting this place
Ear piercing rings never to fade
Thirteen swings; the pendulum blade
Condemned as a whore, pending gloom
Chained to the floor, this cold dark room
Gnawing pains as I clench my fists
Iron chains, dig into my wrists
Thirteen swings; the pendulum blade
On Satan’s wings, price to be paid
Panic sets in, next swinging stroke
The demons grin at Satan’s joke
Demented kings; I’m so afraid
Thirteen swings; the pendulum blade
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
My teacher, my mentor, I love him so
Without him my music would not be the same
My teacher, my mentor, my maestro
The angel of music; he gave me that name
Without him my music would not be the same
After the fire, ashamed of his face
The angel of music; he gave me that name
The labyrinth is now his holy place
After the fire, ashamed of his face
He bids me to sing; his rage it’s true
The labyrinth is now his holy place
Raoul how I need you, what can I do
He bids me to sing; his rage it’s true
I know not which, my love or my passion
Raoul how I need you, what can I do
Maestro taught me to sing in this fashion
I know not which, my love or my passion
The angel of music, my singing aglow
He shows me such tender loving compassion
My teacher, my mentor, I love him so
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
L oving - and safe in your mountain air
O how it feels -, lifted high above
V anity disappears - with a love so rare
I n the apex of loving strength - thereof
N aturally cleaving to your arms - with care
G iving myself to your towering love
S afe within your protecting love
O the feeling of love - in the open air
U nderstanding - how much you really care
L oving - the way I am cradled above
S afe in your arms and protected thereof
now finding a man such as you is so rare
Two souls locked together, uncommonly rare
High above the weather, locked in our love
Lost in your peaks and your strength thereof
Fill my soul with you as my lungs with air
You’ve lifted me high and so far above
In your strong arms, I am locked in your care
No one can harm me, I don’t have a care
For a mountain of strength is O so rare
Of all the land that you tower above
I rest in your arms, your mountain of love
Your strength and protection, your manly air
Has given me purpose to serve you thereof
If the meaning of love is clear thereof
Content I rest on your pinnacle of care
The breath of your love in the mountain air
As a man like you is extremely rare
So I’ll keep and serve you in all my love
As you are my master and high above
So I sit on your apex high above
Tending your needs as your woman thereof
I give you my soul and undying love
And I come to be taken into your care
Love like ours is hard to find so uncommonly rare
Please hold me close, I will stay in your mountain air
I’ll live in your mountain air and stay with you above
The bond we found is rare yet we have thereof
Give to me your care and I pledge to you my love
Author notes
This poem is constructed in three forms: acrostic, sestina, and rictameter
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
Palace walls caressed by a beam of light,
touching my face as it beckons my eyes.
I have slumbered in silk throughout the night
and now, thoughts of my love beg me to rise.
I’m wearing a smile, as one may surmise.
Looking my best in a stunning array
of long flowing silk as blue as the skies.
I must look my best for my love today.
Finding my love in the trellised array,
amidst the roses and the palace walls.
My love gave to me, a gorgeous bouquet.
A garden of love, with trickling falls.
She gives me peace with all she can render,
my love is the garden; in roy'l splendor.
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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Amera Andersen Poem
Like a magic incantation,
within the pages of my mind,
dwells poetic inspiration,
with strong emotions all entwined.
Within the pages of my mind,
I crack the cover of my thought
and out flies poems of every kind
composing things I have been taught.
I crack the cover of my thought
to use the essence that makes me,
the better person I have sought
with penned ideas that keep me free.
To use the essence that makes me
a poetess that loves to write
and show the world for all to see
my poems are full of pow’r and might.
A poetess that loves to write
the thoughts escaping from my soul
and all the feelings within sight,
my poetry will make me whole.
Author notes
Retourne:
Like so many other French forms, the Retourne is all about repetition. It contains
four quatrains (four-line stanzas), and each line has eight syllables. The trick is
that the first stanza's second line must also be the second stanza's first line, the
first stanza's third line is the third stanza's first, and the first stanza's fourth line is
the fourth stanza's first. Retournes do not have to rhyme.
Copyright © Amera Andersen | Year Posted 2007
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