poetry

Dear Fellow Poets,

Here you find a smattering of my poetry, mostly from “Merry Meet and Merry Part,” now available in beautiful physical form over in my Etsy shop, thanks to many supportive folks on the Kickstarter. ♥︎

'Be still. A heart cannot heal fast.
Observe mine shifting hands.
A changing mind whose growth will last,
Must swim a tide of sands.'

Beginning now (April, 2025) I have a poem scheduled once per day, that will take you through the entirety of Merry Meet in chronological order. There’s an RSS feed below if you’d like to follow along for the next year or so (there are over 300 poems).

And when I have time, I’ll sprinkle in some new, unpublished, poems, here and there. Quick dandelion seeds, you know.

merry meet!
Aimee

(updated April 17, 2025)

ps— my writings are under copyright, but please feel free to share my poetry where you will, as long as my name and a link here is included. For any commercial use, please contact me for arrangements.

pps— here is the RSS feed for this poetry blog. I do not send emails or letters for these poems, so an RSS reader is the only way to get notified of a new poem here. For apple users, I recommend NetNewsWire, “It’s like podcasts — but for reading.” I use it to follow many artists on many indie sites.

Sunk Ships

The waves and long experience,

Have sunk a ship below.

Mourn not this craft of Theseus,

We lost ours long ago.

Aimee WoodFebruary 11, 2022Poem, Abuse, Relationships, HopeComment

Fly Swan

Oh patron of the bardic arts,

Come rhyme, come ride along.

Fly swan upon a breeze of hearts,

And barter hope for song.

Poetry writing, its highs and lows and frustrations, feels like transfiguring my own feelings and small hopes and despairs into words, trapping a feeling into a verse. This dreamy poem is an invitation- to be syrupy, cheesy, to ‘fly swan upon a breeze of hearts’ and not worry that you might be common, to revel in the common, to sing and flow when you prefer to wallow. Swan is another word for troubadour, or minstrel- so come patron! Tempt your muse! Barter your hope for a song to sway to on the more difficult afternoons.

Aimee WoodFebruary 10, 2022Meta, HopeComment

Heed Heart

Will grief and joy arrive on time?

More often lost or late.

With grace, let pass the dear clock’s chime,

Your heart heeds not the date.

Heed your tender heart, whatever it is going through. Grief has no timeline, joy has no expiration, and certainly, your heart does not know what day, month, or year it is. There are no order to my poems, as often, my feelings fly at their own pace. Like any injury, the recovery is not linear, there will be good days and worse ones. So yes- my poems seem ‘out of order’, just as my feelings seem out of order. I wonder now if all of my poems are not just one, and yet I am collecting them page by scattered page with no hope of constructing a sensical or chronological book. Some are missing. Some are lost. Many will never see the light of day. But I am glad to share these few with you, and if you are healing too, I hope you allow yourself time and grace.

Aimee WoodFebruary 5, 2022Poem, HopeComment