Against the Wind

The blog post prior to this one was inspired by Bob Seger’s song “Night Moves.” Music is something that often inspires my writing. My poem “Night Moves” was both inspired by the song, and the walk home late at night from a friend’s place. The song “Against the Wind” just had me reflecting on how my life is changing so much with motherhood. In my younger days, I was a bit of a gypsy who moved overseas to teach in England and had dreams to travel internationally. The gypsy is still within my soul although these days she will settle for a moonlit walk on a night when her little one is spending time with his father, or grandparents. Freedom is a state of mind and heart rather than the external conditions of our lives. I feel more free in my heart than I did as a younger woman trying to satisfy my wanderlust.



Exploring Sexual Depths

Last night I had the opportunity to go out with a friend for a beer at a local bar. Now these days with having a one month old son I don’t go out as often as I did before having a child. A bar is a funny place because if one really decided to observe you can almost cut sexual tension like a knife between two people. Often they may be strangers, or even those who just haven’t explored their passion for each other yet. In my blog I will be exploring some ideas around sexuality through my creative writing. “What would happen if we kissed” is a Meredith Brooks song that had me thinking about something that happened last night while I was out with my friend. An attractive man at the bar smiled at me as he was getting his beer then joined his friends. It had me thinking creatively about passionate encounters between strangers. What great story ideas one can get out of a “what if” scenario. I hope that you enjoy my future blog posts and all of you have a great weekend.


Writer’s Thoughts in Morning

Breathing slowly in and out; sipping on tea number one,

seeking blue sky mornings,

same shade of dream lover’s eyes,

a little sadness upon waking from the dream,

oh what a lovely dream it was!


Black cat with amber eyes watching me,

sympathy for only the moment,

sniffs at milk in tea on my desk,

draws meditative focus to her window perch,

her mysterious gaze turns to bird watching.


Whistling kettle steam aiding words flow,

make love to the page as if,

I was lost in kissing you…gentle lover of the dream,

under us a soft blanket of grass near the waterfall,

above us Van Gogh’s Starry Night.


Where ever the beloved is…

my heart does travel with you,

even though I thought that I stopped dreaming,

long before your eyes met mine,

you’re with me in early morning cups of tea and poems.

(c) Amanda Wilson 2013

The Blessed Unrest


As a writer, what I express to the world is a natural part of my very being.  The title for Sarah Bareille’s latest album called “The Blessed Unrest” brings to mind the internal struggle that creativity can bring to an artist. Martha Graham talks of how each one of us has a life force; this expression of life is unique to only you. If we block who we really are then the world loses out on that special expression of life. I really love this quote, because just keeping the creative channels open to be who you are authentically is more than enough to be meaningful. There is a beautiful liberation that comes when you cease to judge your efforts, to keep the channel open, and to accept that divine unrest that comes with never being satisfied…a constant quest.


The Blessed Unrest: A Quote by Martha Graham to Agnes Demille

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.

If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.

It is not yours to determine how good it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep the channel open.
You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work.

You have to keep open and aware directly
to the urges that motivate you.
Keep the channel open.

No artist is ever pleased.
There is no satisfaction whatever at any time.
There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction;
a blessed unrest that keeps us marching
and makes us more alive than the others.

Speaking of Sonnets

These poems were written a while ago, but have never been shared with a public audience. I spent four years studying English Literature and grew to love the sonnets written by Shakespeare and Petrarch. During the Renaissance, it was very common for a nobleman to know how to write poetry, dancing and how to perform all the arts of war. When I taught English literature this was my favourite time period to teach about as the tradition, and history behind it is really fascinating. The poems below are some sonnets that were inspired by that era.

Dull Ache

A blackened bedroom at night

Touched your fading place

Not understanding Nero’s plight

Gone are you from human race?

Loving those lying gods wishing

Birth of new beginning now dark

Love the distance I am fishing

Listen to the violinist who’s stark

Melody lost in incoming pain

Yearning unsatisfied by late Heaven

Cannot curse Fate in his gain

Only make the bread leaven

Love soothes the dull ache

But death always doth take

Seeking Providence

Lamplighter shines the changing truth

As scales weigh rational and emotional

Find me clad in soft youth

As one hides in cries national

Love the angels rapidly falling

As they curse the maiden

Who searches and is calling

Only to discover fox’s den

Blow out the candle’s flame

Crushing the fingers of Michael

Whose sword burns the same

Slaying the arts of Raphael

As unicorn sought heaven’s quell

But found herself crying to a knell

(c) Amanda Wilson 2012

Tracking Reality

Sky bird by AlfaZentaura on deviant Art

Tracking Reality

 I listen to the sound of

Wings beating on the careless sky

Wanting to make everyone understand

Reality exists with waking dreams


Love someone and hold them tight

Even if it is for just tonight

Strange how little I know

Even when the lilies flow


Down a river past the sea

Parted the shores by the galley

Of a ship washed on the beach

Pitying the trials of people who reach


Is it too late to learn?

Words become deniable

Thoughts are unreliable

Random chains of touch


Working your magic of love

You try to save someone

Who doesn’t understand

But who wants to


Tracking reality broken by dreams

Told that her fantasies were pointless

Yet wanting to learn to heal

From a massacred heart


These verses are how one speaks

In silent tongues full of riddles

When clear words are too scary

Or thoughts fail to track reality


A reality one clings to with hope

Yearning to touch someone in soul

Not being able to see in

Frustrated by not trusting in what she feels

(c) Amanda Wilson 2012

Nemesis of Self-Doubt

Past few days I have not posted a blog post, as I am experiencing some writer’s block right now. Staring at the blank page without inspiration leads the writer to recycle thoughts. The anxious churning of a puerile brain who can’t express what is really bothering it. So I continue to stare at the blinking cursor on my computer screen. It began with a string of one line form rejection letters giving very vague reasons as to why the publisher decided that my work wasn’t “Good Enough.” It honestly made me wish that writing or any creative endeavour was not such a vulnerable act. How great it would be to be a turtle with a hard shell to deflect such letters?

“Not good enough” is a core wound that I have wrestled with for a while. Sometimes looking back at past history only serves as a form of negative reinforcement. This is probably why I prefer to live in the present. Our experience of the now can be anything that we perceive it to be. Even when you are having a difficult day one can appreciate the little things like a great cup of coffee. Today is one of those days for me where I am grateful for sunshine (potential for a good long walk), and my Sumatran coffee brewing in my coffee maker.

Fear of failure or rejection is something that most of us struggle with at one time or another. Perfectionism is a part of myself that I would love to murder and bury in my backyard, because it serves no useful purpose. Anyone else out there up for the challenge of burying Perfectionism for good? How revolutionary would it be to embrace “good enough” in my attitude towards my self, and what I work hard at?

Truthfully, today I am afraid that I will not succeed at publishing my writing, or even my recovery. On my desk lies stacks of therapeutic homework. The progress is not something that I have always seen myself. Persistence is the key to getting to where I want to go. It gets overwhelming when I look at how far I have come yet I still have much further to go.

When someone in recovery gets to the point where I am at; you wonder if you will succeed at creating a life that is in alignment with who you really are. How will my relationships change? People have come in and out of my life as I established greater boundaries. Some of the departures were painful yet necessary for where I am or where they were in their lives. Will I be able to find fulfilling employment? I was unemployed for two years, so there is lots of anxiety around returning to work again.

Today I sit in the wasteland of my own self-doubt. The landscape is far too familiar at times. I know that if I sit too long here that I will not proceed in my journey. It’s important in the wasteland of self-doubt not to get too comfortable. For now, I am going to drink my coffee then take a long walk outside to clear the cobwebs from my brain.

Thanks for listening to something that probably each of you have experienced at one time or another.