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Amy J Taylor
Poet, writer, artist historian, & Leeds Savage Club Member
Poet, writer, artist historian, & Leeds Savage Club Member

Amy J's posts

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     In the twilight, I slipped back between the sheets, where I tried to re-enter my precious sleep, in the empty space I was expected to be, now
that the sun was rising. A deepening orange, heated the horizon, and victoriously, heralded day, and I knew I ...

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If You Touch Me
    Please, go gentle, if you touch me, today there’s too much to break, don’t you see these cracks crawling over my face, like feathers, all crumpled and slight? Go tender, if you touch me, as though brushing starlight with your fingers, and drawing it nea...

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There was thick mud that day as I slid, and slipped my way, along the steep ravine to you; as I did the things that were asked of me, that, right then, I did not want to do.      I looked upon the bottom of a tree, roots entangled; an evergreen; a place tha...

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    Tomorrow I won’t visit your piles of white dust; though
twisting guilt will tell me I must,
and I won’t bring roses or lilies to lay in
the dust at the closing hours of a wet, spring day you will spend, like this one, by my side,  rushing
and weaving fr...

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Saturday Morning Coffee
What would I do, my
darling, without hope of your smile? Without the foresight
you bring to each weary mile that I walk, for six days in
seven, in getting to you, my scant piece of
heaven, fallen without hurt, like a fledgling bird, as soft and
determined, ...

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New Boy
It is late summer, and the
heat of the day is nothing compared to the heat of the horses. I strip the
saddles off and watch the haze rise from their glistening backs. Watching the
dark stripe between my friend’s shoulder blades, I realize they are not the

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November Day
You said the most beautiful thing about that day, was me, in a Saturday pony-tail, woollen jumper, and jeans, and you said it didn’t matter how many times you had seen, all those dresses and heels that I wear – you told me you loved when I was really there,...

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    Take me by the hand, and lead me amongst my scars: touch every one and it is reborn, a star at your fingertips, each fear, all harm; nought but sweet air now, in the safest of arms, and feather-pillows, deep, soul-cleansing kiss –   and you
can ask me n...

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Don't Panic...
    You know that
fundamental thing, at the base of you? Whatever it is that makes you feel
grounded and safe in the world? You got it from your nurturing; from your
childhood; from your mother, perhaps…a safe base to explore the world from, a
basic trust i...

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So what if I told you, sometimes, that you walk in my dreams? That you float like paper amongst the cotton-wool trees, that pepper, the mountains and gentle streams, as you stretch along banks of bright fire? And what if you lay, as the flames lick higher, ...
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