Scarred hands clutch broken dreams.
I bled through nights no on dared to scream.
Ashes crown the ones who burn.
Each wound a page no chance to turn.
Still, I rise, too fierce to mourn.
-Mandy Ricks
Too fierce to mourn
Tag: poems
Shifting Sands
Broke my chains with trembling hands.
Built a kingdom from shifting sands.
No hero came – I wore the crown.
Found my fire when the world burned down.
I am my own salvation now.
Mandy Ricks
I am Now
I walked through fire, let it sting,
felt the loss of everything.
Ghosts still whisper, scratch my skin,
but I won’t let them pull me in.
Blade of doubt against my throat,
I wear the scars, but still I float.
No savior comes, no hand to hold,
just me—alone, but fierce and bold.
I carve my name in silent stone,
a war-born soul, a heart my own.
No chains, no gods, no need to bow—
I am enough. I am now.
Trust
Maybe it feels like the world is in chaos, with a maniac at the helm yelling, “bring on the fire.” Maybe you feel like running away. But trust, calm will return, wrapped in your insight, and you will want to go home again. -Mandy Ricks
Things do change
So, here we are, dare I say again, holding each other tight, perhaps in an effort to stop from falling apart.
But things do change, and maybe they will for us too. And then we can hold each other close, out of love instead of love instead of desperation. -Mandy Ricks
Find the Wild
Find the wild
Listen quietly to the sound of the wilderness
Trees rustling
birds chirping
the breeze whispering.
Breathe all of it in and you will feel like the wisest of us all.
-Mandy Ricks
Writing
Writing can be hard for me, but I feel compelled to continue. To find thoughts that draw pictures and sentences that explain thoughts. To offer intrigue, comfort, and hope. To trigger memories. Maybe sometimes sadness and traumas. Because all of these make up and include life. Astounding and compelling life. The same life that we give thanks for. -Mandy Ricks
Set Free
Your place in my life has finally set me free to stop hating.
-Mandy Ricks
Horses and Sunshine
I began to write poems when I was a child. Late at night, in bed, alone with my pen.
My mother and her partner would drunkenly fight and I would write about horses and sunshine.
-Mandy Ricks
Gorgeous things
To me, you are simply one of those gorgeous things that was made
to do what it does perfectly, and to last, as almost nothing does, forever.
A Mere Reflection
Listen to me or not, it matters little. I’m not trying to be wise. I’m a mere reflection of your dreams. -Mandy Ricks
Fall
Fall: Where summer’s promises start to break as fast as they were made.
Regrets cling like early evenings watching the sun say goodbyes.
The heat of day starts turning to a dark coolness promising more.
Have we really aged as much as our hearts feel worn or is it just another summer gone in a pile of selfies and beach days?
See you again next year.
Mandy Ricks 