Amanda Niamh Dawson

Four Poems – Amanda Niamh Dawson

New York Rush

Peregrine falcons curl up and cry
Screeching from skyscrapers
Their forests died

Light forsaken
Rivers of people
Looking up
Gaping

Ballasts unburdened
Ships did make them
Walkways of mayhem

Tunnels and sewers
Steam underground
Best party brewers

Lifelines indoors
Nervous system endures
Asbestos air smothers
Speed wins undercover

Families hold tight
Their crumbling monasteries
Luxuries
Gliding on
Polluted soup estuaries

City of might
City of blight
Enter at your own risk
By the lady with the light

 

Steeple

Stripped down
The one who wears the crown
Grows to great heights
Tallest tree in sight
Left standing
Alone
Its network
Dethroned
Avenues laid bare
Redwood dust kicks up
Blank stares
Lift an ax to this god?

Beware

 

Battlefield

Might as well be blind
Facing you
So unkind
Losing my mind

Forest sits
Looking on
Bending to calm

Charms are gone
Years undone
Meanness won
Battle drum

 

Poet’s Time

Light step, star lady
Sing a song
Stop the world
From falling long
Into the depths
Of wishes wronged

Pierce the layer
Silent sayer
Time will warp
To hear the prayer

Stillness leans
Into breath’s beams
A pause
Applause
Where words
Birth dreams

 

Amanda Niamh Dawson lives with her family in Northern California. Born in London to Irish parents and raised in the Boston area, she attended Tufts University, the Ecole du Louvre, and Sorbonne University. Amanda worked in Books & Manuscripts and in Old Master Paintings at Sotheby’s New York, then at Gourmet and House Beautiful. A poem received an award in the 2023 Poetry Society of Michigan’s Peninsula Poets Contest. Her work has appeared recently in The Dewdrop, The Banyan Review, The Ulu Review, The Ekphrastic Review, The Piker Press, Illumen, and is currently in Pomona Valley Review and The Seventh Quarry. Instagram: @thedawsonian