ourwhitelephants

Wander through the reflections of a dreamer.

Life Lessons

The birds don’t play any games,
and neither do the bees.
Screw with their nests or their honey even once,
and they will chase you and they will sting.

They can pick you from a crowd,
because each will remember your face.
So don’t go playing any games with the birds, nor the bees,
unless you want your eyes poked out and a swollen face.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

10 March 2014

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Hearth Winters

Winter gusts of glitter dust
dancing like sashays;
just outside my window
swirling about blue jays.

A winter song for winter friends,
together perched on bare limbs;
winter white and cardinal red,
are colors for months of cold and dead.

Visits with cold kisses
and Reindeer noses,
crackling fires,
and bedtime stories,

Hot cocoa and popcorn and blankets,
by the hearth, snuggling with Netflix:
not uncommon human winter comforts,
sheltered from the free world of the birds
and the ecology of the coniferous.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

26 January 2014

Emporium Comforts

So many sweets,
hanging on your arm,
so sleepy.

So many sweets,
at the emporium,
falling asleep.

Bonbons and coffee
can’t keep me awake.
I’m hanging on your arm,
the most comfortable place.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

22 November 2014

True Love

The world stops;
time is reinvented.
You spin a view,
so effortless and true,
and it’s all I can do:
but smile in taking in your light.
All because, my dear, loving you
proves most sincerely divine.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

10 March 2014

Sour Sunday

Feeling quite sour on
a bright morning turned bitter.
A no-show let down,
still holding out hope
for company this Sunday afternoon;
to share in good food and laughter,
but it’s been trying, to keep it all together.

Perhaps, I’ll shoot pool by my lonesome.
Or shed my despair until I fall into an empty sleep.
Perhaps, someone will call on me
and join me at my set table,
fixed with a brunch served at two,
prepared for five by one, while one sits and waits.
And it’s already the afternoon.

If I cry, my tears will cut from my face like diamonds, the smile
that was my morning,
the ingredient most special, to infuse our meal with love.
And that with each moment that passes alone,
my smile fades from my soul and bones.
And the vacuous dining area steals my hope,
determined to not cry, I simply become bitter and cold.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

10 November 2013

The Last Daughter: A fairytale

I dream of a mountain lake, crystal blue;
a blush-wine horizon to drink, and a sapphire moon.
Out of the wood, the beasts come to greet
the young woman savior as she realizes fate.

Two sisters amiss in the world, and
Gone is the father, the youngest to follow,
no pennies to spare, stomachs are hollow,
a lone mother at home without husband or child.

Akin to Snow White,
her heart is pure.
The deer and all alike,
now and forever do adore.

Beseeching her goodness with doe-eyed transparency,
to banish the Hag and cleanse what is dark;
to awaken stone faces from disquiet and non-sleep
and restore the peace of balance and harmony.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

4 September 2013

Silver Selves

The silver glass belies identities, mistaken,
a slender frame, alienated,
and a smile, too sly, just doesn’t feel right;
up all night trying to find something different.

In the candlelight
my countenance is hollowed.
And I swear I’m not shallow
but I just can’t get past this silver glass
and the identities and the wallowing.

I’m telling you,
it makes no difference.
I swear it to you;
I’m no different.

The face I see looking back
Is one I should know well.
She and I have shared lifetimes;
She and I have endured hells.

The silver glass belies identities, mistaken;
I swear I’m not shallow
but I’m hooked on this countenance
reflected in the silver glass I’m wallowing.

The face I see looking back
Is one I should know well.
Yet she is different somehow;
The closest stranger I’ve ever known.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

30 September 2013

Rite of Life

Who am I to judge myself?
Who are you to judge?
What is the meaning of this?
What is the point of love?

Life is what about,
if not to live and love?
So who the fuck do we think we are,
and what gives us the right to judge?

© Amber Renaye Wingert

10 September 2013

Turn the light on Memory

been sleeping with the lights on
for memories that are too strong
and it’s been just far too long
since I’ve had any sweet dreams.

1 September 2013

God Warfare

You are my treasure;
Gold and silver in the eyes of a rich man,
A king will come to the rescue for the heavens
Of Earth deemed uninhabitable and the moon only so far away
Crashing down on us, crashing down on us
Explosive forces deem responsible
The many light years it takes for you,
To love me…
To love me.
Kingdom come, la royaume of a planet;
Kingdom come, thy will be done
On Earth as it is in heaven,
A war; a war among the gods, a war clashing the hells together
Power done thy will become
Dead before the dawn
A war on earth has broken out; all the worlds collide
A war of the beasts and demons,
Angels and law, law of the one
The fallen one, for the law reasons not with harmony
Legends once passed,
Angels and law, a great opposition undone.

© Amber Renaye Wingert

2004

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