Category Archives: Peaceful Pieces

for years I thought I had lost writing, a piece of my soul, until I reread my dream journals, woven with phrases of emotion and reflective thought

unearthed, from a large plastic tote, journals of dreams conscious and unconscious, remembered and forgotten, are surfaced, from brittle brown papers to books of note, spiraled bound

one moment you are in that dream state and suddenly you awake and tell yourself… “I need to write this down” since somewhere in the back of mind thought lies of dreams, ideas and visions lost

searching for the pen and paper I capture the vivid colors and emotion in rushed flow so as not to forget a single detail
with inspiration lost and writer’s block is looming I search for missing pieces that are tucked away

I have written several poems from dreams rediscovered. keeping journals or notes of reflections and mindful thoughts during sleep,

a treasure box with scattered gems just waiting to found… artifacts of the soul.

playfully,
amy

Poetry by Amy DuVall Clark  2013

Walking through the cemetery has become a ritual, a tradition for me… a place of inspiration for stories, pictures, and poetry. I grab pieces that the cemetery gives me… thoughts, images, a certain depth… and if you blink you’ll miss your chance. During silent steps,  walking through a yard of graves, taking it all in… the peaceful life of the cemetery. Even through the decay, nature still grows, life still lingers.

The cemetery holds stories unknown and spirits flow, their energy becomes the symmetry of the cemetery… the circle of life. Can you feel it? The cemetery,  it becomes alive as you take in the senses all around. Many call the cemetery creepy, dreary or dark. I say a peaceful playground and I’m not disturbing the peace when I visit. And as much in life, it is all in the interpretation and trying a variety of lenses…

Playfully,

Amy

Here are some photographs I captured during my cemetery journeys last Spring and Autumn for inspiration:

Cemetery Sunscape

Depth of Reflection

The Goblin Tree

Stone Arch Sky

Cemeteries in my soul appear louder than before, shining under luminescent stars, closer… closer you say but then fall away, reflections of the dark waters, scream as loud as the shadow sitting on the wallowing writer’s grave, hold me tight as if you had been holding me forever, look ito my eyes as if you had seen me before in a lost soul’s dream, sense my soul… whispered under breaths of the moon bright

Poem by Amy L. DuVall Clark written September 2010©