Edwyna Beaumont

Biography

I'm trying to wake up this poet.... asleep for too long.

Samples

SUNDAY TALK Sunday morning... and a stillness that’s like a forever inevitable waiting. Everything is silenced, held... Anointed by the touch of Longing. Rain falls in slow motion, spraying Sunday pace. It’s a time for listening to yourself, a time for remembering what you know, counting up… and setting down, letting the quiet have its say. ............................................... - written on a plane coming home from Oz - DAWNING BACKWARDS Our flying West into earlier cheats the daying. The earth turns its curve to before, dipping the sun to below. The risen gets set - the morn is undone - And it\'s so... we undawn as we go. ...............................................

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