Do not
waste your time
endlessly navigating
the ferocious tides
of society’s
artificial designs

do not greet
the morning sunrise
with regret or a sigh
as you sell your soul
from 9 to 5
building someone else’s dreams
in a corporate landmine
just to stay alive

do not judge beauty
on what the media defines
to be your primary duty

because truly

your authenticity
exhibits the rarities
and beloved ancestry
of the tree that will lead you
to the roots
that bore your story

why disguise your glory?

do not build
your hopes and dreams
or grand ideals
without first
making a deal with yourself
to turn them into memories
that are real


live out your days
with fire in your soul
grasping your liberty
and building goals
that are brave
and wild
and bold

and know

no matter what you are told
by those with riches to behold
ALL of life is precious
rich or poor
young or old

be humble

when you are six feet under
when your body meets the coal
your story will remain
but not your gold

and when the time comes by
when you must whisper your last goodbyes
to the birds
the trees
and the iridescent skies

may you greet your final sunrise with a smile

because you lived a life so wild
that you are ready
to expire

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Photography Tasha Tudor, by Richard Brown

Rise Up and Fight Again

Rise Up and Fight Again


Sorrow drops a sullied shroud upon a tear-stained globe;
The colours of the universe then fade to ashen tones;
The fleeting birds misplace their joy;
The stars die in the shadows;
The cattle bellows frantic cries across the barren meadows;
The roses wilt;
The traffic calms;
The kettle holds its whistle;
The sorrows of humanity unfold in growing ripples;
The fiddle plays a mournful tune;
The pendulum stops swinging;
The girls and boys desert their toys;
The telephone stops ringing;
The desperate moans of exiled ghosts roll through the blackened plains;
The moon obscures her radiant bloom and tilts her head in shame;
The postman holds his jolly tones;
The dog hides in his bed;
The radiant hues of blissful Junes withdraw their rosy reds;
Throughout the world, a sea of hope rolls through the hollow lanes
And whispers to humanity,
“Rise up and fight again.”

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

Image: ‘Feel’ by MartaSyrko
Source: martasyrko.deviantart.com/art/feel-367596700

Final Wishes

Final Wishes


Sit with me,
Where silence knows me;
Hold my hand and let time stray.
Take the helm and sail my sorrow
Over oceans formed of pain.

All will seem
Much better soon
As tribulation starts to fade
For love shall comfort those who sow it,
Here on Earth and in the grave.

Lighten grief’s
Relentless burden
Casting shadows on the ground;
Wave away my aching bones
And let my memory lift your frown.

As the pendulum of living
Halts within my withered heart,
As the breeze rejoices,
Welcoming my brand new start.

Upon the final
Curtain call,
My soul shall seek your loving face
For severance shall not divide us;
Love’s connection never breaks.

Cast away
The hurt within
And bury grief below the ground
For I shall ever walk beside you;
To thy heart, my soul is bound.

Summon up
A smile for me;
The universe awaits my hand
To chase a treasury of dreams
As destiny was never planned.

And O,
To be alive again
Amidst the dappled leaves, I’ll run,
Reliving all life’s fleeting moments
Underneath a grinning sun.

I’ll hitch a ride on feathered wings
To scale the snowy mountain tops;
A realm of immortality
Exists within the Land of Nod.

Upon the days
When sorrow calls
And colours fade to black and white,
Go, look for me in whispering trees
For there is where you’ll find my light.

© 2017 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved.

By The Greens Of Pastures Wide

By The Greens Of Pastures Wide


~By The Greens Of Pastures Wide~

Take me to a sacred place beset by Nature’s beauty, where nothing but euphoria and silence comforts me, and there I’ll rest a little while below a timeworn tree, where truth and reason linger within Nature’s melodies. Upon a crooked stile, I’ll watch as jet-black ravens soar, as Mother Nature humbles me, I’ll want for nothing more. And by the greens of pastures wide, my merry soul shall fly, unburdened by life’s mysteries, in Nature’s arms, I’ll rise.

© 2016 Amelia Dashwood, All rights reserved

Thoughts Before Slumber

Thoughts Before Slumber


My mind can often wander through a multitude of thoughts,
observations and rich memories without map or destination.

A melody can lead me on a path through verdant valleys,
that whisper in the wind to shadowed stones of sacred groves.

A visit from a garden bird perched proudly on a feeder,
conjures memories of a loved one who unwillingly passed on.

The vastness of the night sky scattered far and wide with spotlights,
can build a hope so mighty it exudes a profound song.

The ever-changing skyline shifts from blue to black to pinky hues;
displays of blessed Nature so enchanting and divine.

In moments of raw sorrow when my soul is fit to end;
the beauty of the break of dawn bestows a loyal friend.
As times of doubt bewitch us all,
our sylvan hearts ignite a call that leads us all to beauty
to lasso for one more day.

In every passing moment, flitting, fleeting, passing by,
I’m enriched with deepest gratitude that my humble heart beats fine.

A final thought to clutch onto before we say goodnight…
I am happy, for I’ll rise again tomorrow.

~ © 2016 Amelia Dashwood, All Rights Reserved

Image & Photographer: Whisper’s Touch by Michelle De Rose Source: flickr.com/#/photos/michellederose/