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And when I have time, I’ll sprinkle in some new, unpublished, poems, here and there.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.

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

Poem Composed

A poem composed- thus freshly pressed,

Like four leaf clover fold,

Might find and fend the one possessed,

To stave the gloaming’s hold.

Sometimes I write down a poem, fold it up, and keep it in my pocket like a good luck charm. A piece of advice or hope, which I can unfold when I need, to remind myself to keep on. And when I do write something new? Such sweet satisfaction to capture a moment in a rhyme, even when the sentiment is heartbreak or loss. Today, the first day, I begin to let my poems fly.

Aimee WoodFebruary 2, 2022Poem, MetaComment