A Broken Friendship 

I have been missused,
taken for a fool.
Told I don’t care,
I don’t show my love
in their judgemental way,
so they threw me away.

Never in my life has anyone told me
I am a dishonest brut,
until this friend walked my way.

I am not in anyway
dishonest or brutal,
I can be blunt at times
but never am I vengeful,
dishonest, or hateful.

I never peek at my neighbor,
judge, or smugde their behavior in their faces.

I care about others to much
to want harm to come to anyone.

I don’t understand why some people would judge a person who they call friend.

I can’t do that, it is not in my nature.

I am patient, kind, and respectful because I understand why people are the way they are,
and I have a choice to be like them
or to keep to myself and my ture nature.

I hope my friend will come to their senses and realize how much I care.
Until then all I can do his tell them I am still here.

© By Amanda D Shelton

I Once Sat With Sadness Himself (Rewrite) 

I have sat with sadness in tears,
I have shared my sorrows in his presence.

I do not share my woes
with just anyone,
for I have had my moments
with sadness himself.

I ate at his table,
shared a toast with his friends.

I opened my heart to his arms;
fought by his side for my own happiness. I fought so long,
I lost all track of time;
I could not remember my happy times, for they ran away so long ago,
seeking someone who has no woe.

Happieness has no time
to seek those who lose
their heart to sadness.
Happiness dosen’t wait
for those who toss away everything they hold so near to themselves.

Happieness gives no time to those who push it to the side, to forget that it’s even there.

I have given wasted time to sadness,
I have allowed him to take
everything I worked for,
but only once and never again.

© By Amanda D Shelton

A Poem Defined

How frugal is the chariot
that bears a human soul!

A poem carries much of its writer,
heavy with muse
and feelings laid out
crying for attention.

But not all poems are
for the faint at heart,
not every poem is written
with passionate feelings,
nor do all poems share
the same virtues​ and value.

A poem is oddly definded at times.

A poem can be abstract,
straight to the point,
or off in left field.

I would like to think
its up to the reader how the poem is defined.

I a poet,
I am like the morning sun,
my poetry is my sunrise,
and it beams brightly
just for you.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Poetic Dreams

A passion I show
is a passion that grows,
deeply it bubbles up
from the depths of myself.

Word’s like lava burns through
the surface of my soul,
burning whole pages with my poetic dreams.

I am honored to write down
my poetic passions,
I am caught in-between these pages;
as if I am the storyline
unfolding for all to read.

© By Amanda D Shelton

A Poetic Structure

I pause for a moment…

As my mind turns,
I am threading my thoughts
to create this poem.

A tapestry of word play
and format.

Line by line
defined by my skill,
soon to transform into a poem.

Slippery slope
of a muddy poetic runnel,
it flows slow at first,
but gathers speed along the way.

With each word it gathers strength, and structure.

This formation I chose
to build, it grows into
a poetic runnel;
I let it flow.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Wishes For My Love

My passions lay where you step,
with every heartbeat
my soul breathes for you.

With my poetic love,
I send my passions to your position.

As my moon grazes your sky,
I leave behind my kisses,
and my goodnight love
until we meet again.

Soon our sky will be lit
with the dawning of a new day.

Then we will be together
once again.

Upon unspoken word’s
my wishes fly,
until the morning my love
I wish you a sweet dream.

© By Amanda D Shelton

Savant syndrome

To be me,
a line defined by it’s angle
and skill.

A mind stuck in repeat,
overdrive,
caged within a structure
smooth on one side,
but roughly defined by life.

I poorly judged,
I was never considered normal,
a common angle,
the same as all the others.

I am considered oddly defined.

My angles tilt,
built from a different design.

These are my abstract views
which I am defined
by a diagnosis of a savant.

Though to be such,
You have to be flawed,
Your mind has to be caught,
bruised or designed with autistic views.

This is my savant syndrome
written for your point of view.

© By Amanda D Shelton | FroggyArtDesigns

Bee Kind To Your Neighbor

Delightfull as the tree,
Delighted is the bee,
as the buzzing becomes a dance,
the bee thanks the tree
for its flowers nectar
gave him honey. 

Buzzy bee’s collect the nectar
so they can make their honey.

Bee kind to your neighbor,
for you never know
when you will run out of nectar. 

© By Amanda D Shelton

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings By Maya Angelou

One of my favorite poets and writers Maya Angelou.



A free bird leaps on the back
of the wind and floats downstream
till the current ends and dips his wing
in the orange suns rays
and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through
the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
a fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.



Book: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

For Your Entertainment

I don’t dance when I am told to,
I don’t talk when I am spoken to,
I don’t follow your directions,
I don’t live to love,
I love to live and to break your rules.

I don’t walk when I am done,
I don’t yell when you can’t hear,
I don’t think like you do nor care to.
I don’t live to love,
I love to live and to break your rules.

I am that shadow on the wall,
I am that black cat sleeping on your roof,
I am that purple colored hair wearing a hat,
I am the poet your teacher’s warned you about,
I am the mountain that moved.

I don’t write for your entertainment,
I don’t write for your amusement,
I don’t write to please you,
I write because I love to.

This is not for your entertainment.

© By Amanda D Shelton