Poetry
Amy Aves Challenger

"Mom's writing another poem," my kids complain. Whether we're aware of it, it seems we all observe the world in poetry, in the root of our own inner language. I write poems daily, often outdoors, as a warmup before bigger writing projects. Poems help me to exhale, to commit to a handful of words, to weed out the world's clutter, and uncover imagery, ideas, doubts and revelations that converge with truth. 

 

"But who reads poetry?" Take one of my workshops and see how the poetry of other authors inspires you to dig deep within your own senses. Find a poet you love and read a poem aloud. Try writing one yourself...

 

My poems aim to be accessible, though hopefully not cliche.  They've been published in Poets Reading The News, Tuck Magazine, by Kind of A Hurricane Press in an anthology called  Secrets and Dreams (samples below.) One day I hope to put together a chapbook, but in the meantime I regularly post poetry on Instagram and Twitter to accompany my photos . Included here is my Instagram feed.

April 2018 Poets Reading The News:

My Best Friend Was Murdered Again

March 2018 Tuck Magazine: 
Tell Us The Names of the Killers and
Pow Pow 

Instagram Feed
(Please note the line breaks on clickable Instagram images below below do not appear correctly...
Go to my original Instagram page to see correct poem line breaks.)

 

Secrets and Dreams Anthology
(Available on Amazon.com)
by Kind of A Hurricane Press


Poetry: Better Thank Most and
From The Other Side


Better Than Most

 

hers were pink dreams

round curved crowd edges

surging streams about

the masses

in and out her head

they ran while

shouting in the church

began

 

Hallelujah!

 

while yellow sunlit puddles beckoned bare floors

to red sandal toes

or little legs of ants creeping cross

her itching nose to brown ground

wanting six legs

had to get somewhere

else

if only

 

What? You? Doin'?

 

grandma’s hair like silver windows lacing sky in secrets maybe

nobody see, don’t go away in the next blink

white and blue together smoothed the torn-up patches

like mama’s dress

like her but

feeling good

 

Sit up, girl!

 

and tiny white sounds

tickling ears

oh yes

 

singin’ that pretty pretty song they did

even with the yelling up the orange crooked stairs

and the big ol’ tv drowning the moaning

and the special green glass on the tippy table tippin’

and the guy in the red kitchen trippin’

and the smoke so heavy coughin’ tunnels

and the thick, thick liquor air on top of old burgers

and the wrappers stickin’ under feet

and the black door open to any ol’ stranger danger

and the darkness

oh, mama

the darkness

 

the light song sang away, anyway

and her pink dreams

always a flyin’

like rainbows

through her pink story

maybe better

than most

glassy eyes

up there

who couldn’t

see

nothin’

 

 

From The Other Side

(for Eric)

 

I heard you

when the sun slid low

rowing through a thousand reflections of river bed slow

 

your call heaven's rocket

a hawk from pink sky

raining such shivers in my limbs

every part sure 

of pine lanky you

 

I saw you clearly creme bald head

no, not a hawk

eyes sure as stars

hooked to mine

promising dreams are life

and heaven comes to those

daring to take all of the sky in one breath