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Amara450

Amara450

About Amara450

I started writing when I retired and attended a creative writing course.
I have completed 3 novels, ( unpublished ), and 2 non fiction. ( also unpublished ).
I left school aged 15 in 1955 with no qualifications.
I had a varied career including working as a papermaker, an HGV driver, and a soldier.
I am a widower, have 3 sons and 4 grandchildren.
I am a keen motorcyclist. I use social media very rarely. I prefer to keep my privacy.
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Poems by Amara450

In Quiet Times
- Published: November 18, 2024
Being Parted Away From Home

in Long Distance Poems

In quiet time, when day is done,
] rest my head for sleep to come,
As peace steals o'er my restless mind,
My memories your face will find,

In quiet time, when day is done,
] rest my head for sleep to come,
As peace steals o'er my restless mind,
My memories your face will find,
Your gentle smile so sweet to see,
Eases my troubled thoughts for me.

In quiet times, in still of night,
When darkness shields the world from sight,
I lay awake and think of you,
I see your eyes, so warm, so true,
I feel at peace and without fear,
As in my mind I hold you near.

In quiet times, in dead of night,
My dreams take wing in silent flight,
To join with yours, the two as one,
Spirit and body, one become,
Lips joined, breath soft, hearts beating slow,
Two bodies merged in loves deep glow.

In quiet times, in dawning light,
My eyes tight closed, the dream held tight,
I feel our hearts entwined, at rest,
My cheek press'd to your soft white breast,
I keep my cherished dreams sublime,
And wait again for quiet times.

I quiet times, in days dull toil,
When reality ones dreams can soil,
I close my eyes and see your smile,
To comfort me for some short while,
And in my heart, through flight of time,
In quiet times, your dreams are mine.
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- Votes 7
- Rating 4.14
Featured Shared Story

A lovely poem - my husband was also a soldier, but I didn't receive any beautiful poems like that when he was away!

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My Dad
- Published: October 30, 2024
Life Without A Father During The War

in War Poems

My Father was born in the year 1916,
In the war to end all wars, or so they thought,
But not such a good year that it might seem,
He was just 23 when the next one was fought,

My Father was born in the year 1916,
In the war to end all wars, or so they thought,
But not such a good year that it might seem,
He was just 23 when the next one was fought,
So he was called up on that fateful day,
Given a rifle, big boots, a steel helmet to wear,
His wife left alone with a child on the way,
He was sent off to fight, his wife didn't know where,

So one day before she heard the war start,
She started in labour, a child on the way,
Eleven fifteen next day when the sirens took part,
We both heard them wail, I was born on that day,
From her heart full of love I had more than my share,
From a lonely new mother, to me just hours old,
An absentee Father sent God only knows where,
His whereabouts secret, nobody told,
So she dried up her eyes, put comb through her hair,
And said "Mr. Hitler, you can't frighten this pair".

Five long years later we were both still alive,
Through air raids and bombing, explosion and blast,
As a family together we fought to survive,
Everything rationed and running out fast,
The very same problem for all down our street,
We shared what we had so that none went without,
Small portions of food to last through the week,
And when victory came we all gave a great shout,
But the best thing of all, my Dad's coming home,
Mum said that Dad's tall, handsome and strong,
I'm nearly six now, he'll be surprised how I've grown,
I hope when he gets here we'll both get along.
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- Rating 3.50
Nought Points Seven Percent

Having just suffered yet another change in the party that governs this country reminded me of this poem that I wrote after the previous party came to power. I had hoped for so much and as time went past I came to realise that, once again, nothing had changed. Now, only a scant few weeks under the new governments care I fear that I am to be disappointed yet again. My poem from 2012 still rings true to me. Others may disagree.
- pending
- Posted on 10/17/24
in Short Poems

It's only nought point five percent of the GDP,
That's what the Government is telling me,
A drop in the ocean, not much at all,
But that all depends on what we can afford,

It's only nought point five percent of the GDP,
That's what the Government is telling me,
A drop in the ocean, not much at all,
But that all depends on what we can afford,
Cos their reviewing the funding on our NHS,
On schools and defence and all of the rest,
On welfare, disabled, and those out of work,
But not for the immigrants, and those of that sort,
Get out of your home or sleep four in a bed,
Just you try to claim and see what is said,
Nought point five percent of the GDP,
That's eight billion quid to you and to me,
To send to the 'needy' who live overseas,
To be spent by their leaders on big cars and TV's,
Or to buy bigger guns that they really need,
So while charities struggle to collect and to meet,
The demand for food parcels so our children can eat,
Fund hostels where homeless can get warm and dry,
While elderly shiver alone while they cry,
And the government say our taxes won't meet,
The cost for disabled to get back on their feet,
So to get all this money to send overseas,
From our taxes they take the cash for the fees,
One hundred and sixty of our English pounds,
Each year, that's how much cash must be found,
Each, that's per capita, from you and from me,
It's no wonder our talented workers all flee,
So to all the MP's, before they start to groan,
How expenses won't cover their second homes,
That their salaries are low and that living is tough,
Wake up, look around you, cos enough is enough,
We are not the world's bank with a wide open purse,
It's time that you put your own people first.
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She Doesn't Know Me
- Published: October 14, 2024
Visiting A Dear Friend In A Dementia Care Home

in Sickness Poems

In the crowded room she sits alone,
Lost inside her tangled thoughts,
Her eyes unfocused on the floor,
She doesn't know me any more.

In the crowded room she sits alone,
Lost inside her tangled thoughts,
Her eyes unfocused on the floor,
She doesn't know me any more.

This girl with whom I shared my life,
Who loved me as I love her still,
My dear companion, my best friend,
Stolen now to this sad end.

I cannot just desert her now,
Though every visit causes pain,
To see her weeping, sitting there,
Confused, and lost, and in despair.

Just one of many gathered there,
Cared for, safe, but lost to life,
To sit alone in lined up chairs,
Lost to all of those who care.

I wish that I could take her home,
To comfort her and ease her mind,
Shut out this cruel life, close the door,
But she doesn't know me any more.
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- Votes 7
- Rating 4.43
Featured Shared Story

I am sorry to hear that you no longer write Ann. You have a talent that it is a shame not to use as your poems show that you have a way of using words to inspire and comfort. I feel now that...

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Now That Your Gone
- Published: September 29, 2024
Poem Losing My Dear Wife After 58 Years Together

in Wife Death Poems

Now that you're gone and I'm alone
To face the future on my own,
I wonder how, as day by day,
I struggle hard to find a way,

Now that you're gone and I'm alone
To face the future on my own,
I wonder how, as day by day,
I struggle hard to find a way,
To justify this life of mine,
Make sense of my remaining time,
To come to terms with loss and grief,
To reconcile and find some peace,
Now that your gone, and I'm alone,
To face the future on my own.

This house, the home we strived to make,
A haven for our old age sake,
Now filled with random memories,
Of happiness that used to be,
No voices call, just silence fills,
The spaces filled by memories,
I reach at night to one not there,
Survey by day her empty chair,
Just ghosts to wander from the past,
And hollow aching in my heart.

My family and friends all try,
To ease the pain as time goes by,
With gentle words and kindly deeds,
They strive to ease emotions needs,
They help, but nothing can replace,
The one that used to fill this space,
So I return alone, and shut the door,
Absorb the emptiness once more,
Eyes full, cheeks wet, I long to hear,
The voice of one I held so dear,
I pray for strength to try each day,
Be positive, and find a way,
Through passing days and months now flown,
Now that you're gone, and I'm alone.
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- Stories 3
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- Votes 12
- Rating 4.00
Featured Shared Story

I too have lost my husband of 58 years. I didn't really know what grief was until after his death. I also began writing late in life. I went to a writing for well-being course after my...

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Stories

Amara450
3 weeks ago

I am sorry to hear that you no longer write Ann. You have a talent that it is a shame not to use as your poems show that you have a way of using words to inspire and comfort. I feel now that I have broken out of the feelings of sadness that had taken over my writing efforts. This is due to having to find fresh works to take to my reading sessions and reading to Dementure patients is akin to reading to children in a way, and looking for inspiration from life and comedy has opened up a whole new field for me. It takes an effort but one that has lifted my spirits. Very best wishes. Alan.

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Amara450
1 month ago

Thank you so much for your comments. The lady in the poem, Barbara, has now been in residential care for 8 months and has settled in quite well. Since her medication has been balanced she knows me again which is wonderful. Visiting her on a weekly basis has resulted in me volunteering to help in the home by reading to the residents as part of the activities team. We meet bi-weekly and I have a group of about 8 ladies, including Barbara who look forward to my visits to read poetry and short stories to them. It is wonderful to see the pleasure that this brings them and the bonus is that I really enjoy doing this. To see the laughter and memories that selected poems brings the ladies is a joy. Dementia results in sufferers living in the past and poems from childhood evoke such happiness. It has resulted in me writing again, a pleasure that I lost when I lost my wife. This has opened a new door to happiness for me.

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Amara450
2 months ago

Thank you Binh for your kind comments. It is said that time heals. It does not. It dulls the pain and then I feel guilty because I am not remembering things so clearly. My wife passed away seven years ago. I give thanks for 62 years together but I still have days when my feelings expressed in the poem are still with me. Your work is very touching and clearly comes from one who has suffered the loss of one so loved. God bless you.

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Amara450
2 months ago

Hello Ann. I love the honesty and emotion you put in your poetry. I think that these things have to be experienced by the writer to feel the depth of emotion needed to express it in words. I nursed my dear wife of fifty-eight years through terminal cancer at home in 2017 and recently have had the experience of seeing her best friend, who I was still very close to, succumb to dementia this year and go into residential care. I have some work, penned in the darkest days, that still bring tears when I try read them. Thank you for the positive comments on my work. I am new to the site and still trying to find my way around it. Reading your biography it seems that we came to writing in a similar way. I didn't start until I retired and attended an adult education course on creative writing. I look forward to reading more of your work. With thanks. Alan.

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Amara450

About Amara450

Poems by Amara450

In Quiet Times

My Dad

Nought Points Seven Percent

She Doesn't Know Me

Now That Your Gone

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