BENDING LANGUAGE – PAMELA GOODYER: Poetry Beyond Words
Verse from a Visionary Mind
Poetry by Pamela Goodyer
Where language unfolds and transcends the ordinary, it carries the unseen currents of thought and feeling. These poems by Pamela Goodyer echo the vision of her photography, inviting you to experience the intangible, to sense the ineffable, and to see the world through the eyes of a visionary mind.
Links to more poetry pieces below.
Welcome to My Poetry
Pamela Goodyer
In the silent language of the cosmos,
I strive to form a bridge —
linking you to the vast, boundless mystery,
that cradles us all.
Through poetry, we weave a connection.
A portal sighs as it emerges,
Where the depths of the soul intertwine,
With the infinite.
I write deeply.
I write raw.
I descend into the cavern where unspoken feelings keep their vigil,
I lower the lantern—
Hoping its glow may stir something ancient in you,
Something long asleep yet listening still.
What others fear to voice,
I bring to light.
What trembles beneath the tongue,
I touch with my words.
As you read, perhaps a sigh will escape your lips,
“Ah… this I have known, though I have never named it.”
I write—to forge a connection:
You to your core,
Your thought to mine,
Life force transformed to page.
Self to self,
Soul to the magnificent Gaia.
We are connected,
And connected we remain.
In silence,
In the wild eternal hush,
Between one quiet cadence and the next,
Like the voice of the rhythm in the wind.
I lay my hand across the page to meet you here.
To make present what might have gone unseen.
To elevate humanity.
To place a weight in the current,
Guarded from the ceaseless deception of the world.
I summon you to traverse the gateway,
Into an uncharted sanctuary where time dances in fluidity.
ARTIST STATEMENT
My art is not here to be seen.
It is here to be remembered.
My steps are forged in love,
Not chosen but known.
I chose to flow downstream,
In rolling torrents,
Without a paddle.
I am a silent witness,
Not to life,
But to the breath within it.
My work does not capture.
It mirrors.
I do not create.
I reflect.
My art is not a gift.
It is a field,
Shaped by humility,
Anchored in stillness,
And activated by
The coherence it encounters.
I chose humility,
Desiring no accolades,
Nor worldly acquire.
For such things swim against the current.
I resist nothing.
I simply allow.
I act with no expectation,
Embracing what arrives.
And in that allowing,
The images and writings emerge—
Not as a product,
But as a breath made visible.
“When you stop caring about what other people think, you no longer have to be perfect unless, of course, you care too much about what you think of yourself. Then you still need to be perfect.” —The Perfectionist.