Mr. August Williams Wallman

By Amy Thomson

Did you know that’s my name?
Eternal burning flame
sometimes draining,
mostly adorable,
though potty jokes horrible,
I’m so glad you yike me,
let’s play family.


Miss Iris

By Amy Thomson

Hello Miss Iris,
so pretty and stylish.
Forever inspired
by your golden fire.
Sunshine rays
cut through haze.
I forget my sadness,
fill my cup with
G L A D N E S S.


Trotting Mules

By Amy Thomson

Trotting mules fuel bile
counterfeit grins
threads in my head.
Laugh at me,
I laugh on.
Come dawn,
grin wins,
charged with cheer
despite leers I sear,
whispers near
from vacuous lips more idle than
sneakers missing soles,
sneaking sideways glances into
missing souls,
I laugh on.
Emotional brawn
wrapped in eggshell,
dwelling in Plath’s bell jar,
heart tarred,
not gone,
I laugh on.


Lost at Sea

By Amy Thomson 
I think my mind is lost at sea,
and slowly floats away from me.

I write it letters everyday,
and slip the bottles in the bay.

My head is hollow, filled with air,
the passing time begins to wear.

I do not know what I did wrong,
to make it choose the Siren’s song.

I cannot cope without my mind,
since madness is not treated kind.

Perhaps I’ll join Ms. Woolf and Plath,
I cannot take depression’s wrath.

I wish that I could turn back time,
I’d give my little, lonely dime.

To go back when my mind was here,
and moments weren’t filled with fear.

I’d promise not to get too sad
to keep my mind from going mad.

I want to join it in the sea
so I can start to feel like me.