Sunday, 13 April 2014

A couple of marvelous reviews for ... Come and Get Me.

My first review. Bless you, Peter McManus. 

By Peter McManus on April 1, 2014
I have had the great opportunity to enjoy Amanda's words in other venues and I am excited about her collection of poetry which is the type I enjoy...clear, concise, meaningful, connective, and inspiring. This will be the perfect collection to give my wife who just quit her secure job to begin her own business! I recommend this book to anyone who has challenges in life that they are thinking about changing by taking a risk. I think this should include just about I think everyone to keep a copy close at hand!

The complicity of silence, April 12, 2014
This review is from: Come and Get Me (Paperback)

Amanda Edwards' poetry is a game of hide-and-seek with life, with words, with thoughts, a pantheism deeply rooted in her culture, her soul. Her reason for being is to do something, to leave something behind. One can enhance a life trail for a moment, the distance to the point of defeat in dispute with the great Time.

To accomplish the work she was born to do seems to be Amanda's supreme argument in the balance of her prayers. The idea of unfulfillment frightens the poet and makes her bless and defy the divine miracle of life.

Amanda Edwards dares to dream in her poems and only the reality knocks her idols and scatters her illusions.
Go and get Her! I did and still do.

Thursday, 10 April 2014

Damn you

Damn you
Damn you for making me believe
Damn you for making me believe in you
Damn you for making me believe in you then leaving me
Damn you for making me believe in you then leaving me to wonder why
Damn you for leaving me to wonder why
Damn you for making me doubt you
Now I have to believe in me
Bless you.

Friday, 7 March 2014


Our lawn is in a state of disrepair.
Not one green blade of grass to soothe the eyes.
For only hardy plants can thrive out here,
Beneath the glorious blue of sun streaked skies.

The next door neighbour's patch is emerald green!
Not for him this panting, drought struck land
He has the liveliest grass I've ever seen!
From founts of water hosed with liberal hand.

Not us! We wait for autumn rains to fall.
Our grass lies dormant; brown and dry and dead.
Yet in defiance one proud stalk stands tall,
And nods towards the breeze its feathered head.

My fingers itch to spring the grass to life,
But that is not my role; I too must wait.
Perhaps these desert moments are a tithe,
That patience, hope and faith will satiate.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2014
(Writing for Joy)

Tuesday, 25 February 2014

The Tui

(photo by Phil Linklater)

I wake to hear the Tui's tuneful lilt,
He serenades his lover, trills and shouts.
I strain to see the tuft beneath his throat,
His iridescent feathers gleam like silk.

Our garden comes alive with boisterous song.
He flits from tree to tree and calls his mate.
She answers with her own bell-like refrain,
Secure, that in his eyes, she does no wrong.

I listen to those birds with sinking heart.
The tree on which they sing will soon be felled.
A straggling pine that's simply grown too tall,
It's job is done - and now it must depart.


The garden makes a neat and tidy bower.
With native shrubs and trees to gaze upon.
One day perhaps, the Tui will return,
The kowhai tree shows signs of early flower.

Amanda Edwards (c) 2014