Andrea Wheaton , we know her as Lady A on AllPoetry.com
Andrea is a Registered Nurse, recently retired
She was born in Montreal, Quebec, Canada. Currently lives on the east coast of Canada, in New Brunswick
She started out writing a few poems as a teenager but began writing in earnest when she was 39. Unfortunately, it was after the loss of her true love and her grief propelled her to write…it was and is very cathartic for her.
It was approximately 3 yrs ago when Lady A joined Late Night Poets & she finds the group to be, Nurturing, supportive, caring, helpful, fun, encouraging, “more fun” a group of great friends. She says she has learned so much from so many! Not just about poetry but about friendship, tolerance, fairness, kindness…all of these things she has been able to share and learn from others.
Lady A has had 20 of her poems published in a collaboration with several other poets through Amazon
Andrea is not actively seeking publication, but has been seriously thinking of doing so.
Her favorite authors are James Michener, a brilliant writer of historical novels. Frank McCourt, author of Angela’s Ashes. Her favorite poets, the Bronte sisters, ee cummings & Pablo Neruda
Her favorite poems are…
I Carry Your Heart, ee cummings,
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
Don’t Go Far Off, Not Even For A Day, Pablo Neruda,
Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —
because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long
and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station
when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.
Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift
into me, choking my lost heart.
Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don’t leave me for a second, my dearest,
because in that moment you’ll have gone so far
I’ll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,
Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?
If Grief For Grief Can Touch Thee, Emily Bronte
If grief for grief can touch thee,
If answering woe for woe,
If any truth can melt thee
Come to me now!
I cannot be more lonely,
More drear I cannot be!
My worn heart beats so wildly
‘Twill break for thee–
And when the world despises–
When Heaven repels my prayer–
Will not mine angel comfort?
Mine idol hear?
Yes, by the tears I’m poured,
By all my hours of pain
O I shall surely win thee,