Beautiful and battered

Art my own, OrkidedatterArt, my own orkidedatter

-From a nordic author and artist:


Poetry collection:

Beautiful & battered

– breaks through the chains-


From the north a butterfly in

winter land under the

Polar star in the elongated small country


If you listen carefully you can hear

her wing stroke rises from a descending black

star from a nightmare visions

flash down below the abyss…

breaks through the chains from a cage of

another day healing subconsciously

a picture of pain.

Bleeding memories and a battered

country girl,

but beautiful as the midnight sun…

strong as the Northern Lights dances on the

black canvas of the sky, she colors her soul’s

landscape of a

ruin to an architectural masterpiece.




Facebook: orkidedatter_author


OrkidedatterPicture is me…

(This is an acrostic poem)

~F R A G I L E~

F ear through glistening stars playing hide & seek in the darkness

R oars deep within her soul a thunderous deal of the devil’s rage

A ngels fighting inside her pounding heartbeats with the mystique from the broken dreams

G hostly they whirled around to find peace in a wrecked country girl

I mmersed with purple velvet in a coffin of crystal tears from a fallen warrior

L ying in the shade of her rose thorns of demons

E motions running wild in her veins like dark arrows pierced her mind.


Summertime sadness…

She got drunk

tried to drink away her pain

danced on the table

sang the saddest songs she knew

as elegant as the candle light sparkling on

the piano her bambi eyes was like

shappire moonlight

her hair flow like a river and her cheery

lips was telling magic

her radiance got the heartbeat of all

men in the bar to tremble

but she had no longing to them…

the smell of whiskey and blue smoke

lay like a blanket over the room

remembering nothing until she

wakes up on a street corner with him

beside her

everything turned upside down inside her

you held her hair

you told her how beautiful she was


so much love for her

a day four years ago she turned her back

on him and said no, just go…

a choice she could sell her soul to the

devil for…

if she could turn back time…

you are still her best friend

doing everything for each other

having fun

conversation from dusk to down

know everything about each other

every time your name appears on

the phone her heart quiver in pain that

hurt so good

always a perfect picture of your family

suddenly, you knock on her door

she lets you in

she smiles bravely

her heart cracks

her eyes are bloodshot

you traces your fingertips down her jaw

she gasp for the breath

befor their lips meet, time stand still

at this moment and she can feel your

goosebumps on your nose

and your lips are drawn towards eachother

she moans for both of you

drown in your emerald green eyes

just one last night in the sky of lovemaking

in sin he whisper

-I want to make love to you-

slowly they make love in

a bodylanguage only they knew

when tomorrow comes she has

pulled the trigger

she can’t bear anymore

summertime sadness

they find her in the bubble bath with

rose petals from the

Black Rose…


Shades of black scars…

She tries to find peace because her heart

will heal

It’s beautiful, but worn

It has been attempted repaired

With needle and thread

If you look closely, you can see the shade of

the stitches torn off time after time

Looking even further in, deep behind her

heart, you can watch a glimpse of a face

It is like the shadows waving in the wind

You realize that the face belongs to the

heart, because they are equally ghostly

She turns her face away in disgust and


It storms in the heart’s rhythm

Faster and

faster, she won’t be anymore

It is like thorns from «the black rose» being

thrown at her, and she feels an

indescribable pain in her heart and it’s

burn in her soul

In the face behind the heart tears flow like

a waterfall

As a veil, they embrace her heart and dig

«the river of tears» bigger and demper

Tears from a darkness that no little girl

should know about

Tears from a scared soul that a soul never

should know about

Tears from a place within a little girl never

knew she had

A stolen body…but always a soul and a

heart that she hid and protected

Can she be whole again?

Is the last flame extinguished?

She can feel her heartbeat, breathes deeply

and try to find calmness

She wipes away the tears that quietly fall

down her cheek

Her body remembers

The heart knows

Her mind can deceive her

All of the emotions and experiences are

stuck in her body as the pain of a thorn

-Demons are screaming the worst she can


Her eyes can’t stop crying, her soul is

working to heal, her mind is trying to

connect with heart

A thousand broken pieces of her heart is

laying beside her in a chest of sorrows

With all her scars she begins to feel the

various nerves of the black paths

Trails she never wants to join again

They’ll be with her to the end of life and

she’ll try everything she can to make new

paths bright and beautiful next to the dark



You borrowed her heart

You caught her heart and

lent it for a while

you embraced her with

all your love and caring

she was lost in your soul

at one point you gave her

the heart back

a broken heart with pain

she became a dark crushed soul

emptiness within

it’s far too much to take

she almost drawning in her

own tears of ocean

now she has dried out

an Angels tears of blood

falls down her cheek

with her bloody eyes

she digs her grave of sorrow

and hope death will knock with

his skeleton on her coffin.


Shades of love

Poetry poem shades of love poet Norway Norwegian art

She want you to feel the presence

of her soul in your bare body

through every word she write

she want you to feel that she spread

severals shades of love onto you

let your life flow over her

cover this walls of fear with passion

make love to this labyrinths of darkness

discover every inch in this broken heart

reveals every touch of her ink in her

mind with your burning flames of love

embrace her within

in the end she has to close her diary

you are only in her mind

but still so alive.



Coloring your day

(English text after the Norwegian text)

Mangt skal vi møte

mangt skal vi mestre

stå opp og lytt til dagen

solen og solens stråler

som vekker dine følelser i deg

hvite sommerfuglers vingeslag

hvilken farge velger du idag

stien er like ny som i går

et nytt kapittel i ditt liv

skal skrives

lytt til dypet i deg selv

hør din hjerterytme

føl din puls

fjorden er like blå og blank

der den renner som blod

i dine årer

blikket ditt fanger meg

føl mørket og dager er brått


det er mer vi kan føle enn

hva vi kan forstå

månen er like ny

men er like hemlig

som dagen i morgen

naturens fjerne åser minner oss

om en svunnen tid

kommer aldri tilbake

med neste morgengry kan du

lage deg din beste dag

du kan høre noen hvisker deg i øret

at alt skal bli bra igjenn og ikke vær redd

som en hvit sommerfugl skal farges

slik kan du velg din farge på dagen i dag

gjør den til din beste.




Coloring your day:

Much we will meet

we must master many things

get up and listen to the day

the sun’s rays

that arouse your feelings in you

white butterflies wing strokes

what color do you choose today

the path is as new as yesterday

a new chapter in your life

must be written

listen to the depths of yourself

feel your heartbeat

feel your pulse

the Norwegian fjord is as

blue and shiny

as it flows like blood

in your veins

you glance catches me

feel the darkness when the day is over

there is more we can still feel

what we can understand

the moon is just as new

but is just as secret

like the day tomorrow

the distant hills of nature remind us

about a bygone era

will never return

with the next morning break you can

make your best day

you can hear someone whispering

you in the ear

that everything should be well done and

nor be afraid

as a white butterfly should be colored

so can you choose your color of the day

make it your best.



Up from the ashes

(English text after the Norwegian text)

Opp fra asken norwegian blogger upfrom the ashes poem

Hun reiser seg fra asken.
Hun vet ikke om hun er død eller levende.
Øynene føles som kull.
Hennes kropp kan hun ikke kjenne igjen.
Hun lytter.
Føler etter hjerterytme sin.
Det er tomt.
Føles tungt.
Er det mørkt?
Hvilken sorg var hun?
Hvilken smerte ble hun?
Hvilken kjærlighet skal hun velge?
Hun går utover landskapet som skinner.
Hun ser en elv.
Hun løfter blikket.
Hun ser grønne enger rundt elven.
Ved elven under et tre står en mann.
Hun ser seg tilbake og en sorg fyller hele
hennes sjel.
Bak henne er det varmt og flammer kastes
mot henne.
som blafrer.
Hun skimter farger av oransje, gul og rød
Det gjør vondt.
Hun har kommet til livets slutt.
Hvilken vei skal hun velge?
Hun velger å gå mot mannen.
Han strekker sine hender mot henne.
Hun nøler et øyeblikk.
Livet vises i revy i hennes hode.
Det er ingenting å gå tilbake til.
Hun velger en fremmed dør.
Den åpnes.
Hun føler håp og glede.
Arrene skal gro.
Hun lever.


Up from the ashes…

She gets up from the ashes
She doesn’t know if she’s dead or alive
The eyes feel like coal
She can’t recognize her body
She listens
Feeling her heartbeat
It is empty
Feels heavy
Is it dark
What grief was she
What pain did she get
What love should she choose
She goes beyond the landscape that shines
She sees a river
She lifts her eyes
She sees green meadows around the river
At the river under a tree stands a man
She looks back and a sorrow fills her whole
against her
Behind her it is hot and flames are thrown
against her
She glimpse the colors of orange, yellow and
red that flutter
It hurts
She has come to the end of life
Which way should she choose
She chooses to go against the man
He stretches his hands toward her
She hesitates for a moment
Life is shown in revue in her mind
There is nothing to go back to
She chooses a foreign door
It opens
She feels hope and joy
The scars must grow
She is alive

Poisonous words

(English text after the Norwegian)

Giftige ord poisonous words poem Norwegian blogger skyld fault mental health skam shame dandelion child løvetannbarn

Når hun snakker med deg

trigger du hennes følelser.

Når hun snakker med deg

trigger du hennes erfaringer

og opplevelser.

Når hun snakker med deg

trigger du «livet».

Det er som kniver blir hugget

inn i hennes hjerte

og piggtråd som strammer til

langt inn i hennes hjerte.

Hjertet blør og hennes sjel

vrir seg i smerte.

Det er vondt.

Deres blodsbånd er usynlig,

men for henne alltid bundet.

Det er vondt.

Hun tar et skritt tilbake,

og lar giftige ord passere forbi.

Hun hilser de velkomne, men

lar de gå.

Det er som en kald vinternatt

der isstapper så spisse som

piler blir kastet inn i hennes hud.

Det svir og brenner, og arrene


De begynner å falme, hjerte hennes gror

og sjelen blomstrer.

Hun snur ryggen til og går, men

følelsen av alltid være udugelig,

skyld og skam sitter som

brent fast i hennes ånd.



Poisonous words.

When she talks to you,

you arouses her feelings.

When she talks to you,

you arouses her experiences.

When she talks to you, you arouses

her whole «life», she try to heal.

It is like knives being carved

in her heart and barbed wire

that tightens into her heart.

The heart bleeds and her soul

is twisted in pain.

It hurts.

Their blood band is invisible,

but for her it always bound.

It hurts.

She takes a step back and

lets poisonous words pass by.

She welcomes they, and let it go.

It is like a cold winter’s night

that icicles flies like arrowheads

thrown into her skin.

It burns, and the scars have a pain

she can’t describe.

They begin to fade,

the heart of her heals,

and the soul is flourishing.

She turns her back to the

words of poison

and goes away, but

the feeling of being always

inept, guilt and shame

is like burned in to her spirit.



(English text after the Norwegian text).

Hun tar sine siste skritt.

Her hun kaller sitt hjem.

Hun snur seg og ser sine egne fotspor.

Hun var ikke klar over at de så slik ut.

Hun opplever at den ene foten skiller seg ut fra den andre.

Det er som hennes fotspor prøver å si henne noe.

Hennes fotspor er overalt på dette stedet.

Så mye følelser.

Hun ønsker bare å viske de bort.

Hun skal snart ut på en reise.

En reise der hun skal farge alle farger i regnbuen, i vinden og på sine vinger.

Hun ser for seg en hvit sommerfugl.

Flyr igjennom kraftig motvind.


Ligger livløs på bakken.

Hun stryker den varsomt.

Hun ser et lite sår i den skjøre kroppen.

Det vil alltid bli et arr.

Hun løfter den opp mot himmelen.

Håper den er sterk nok til å fly.

Sommerfuglens følehorn beveger seg opp og ned.

Retter litt på vingene sine.

Løfter seg opp og flyr.

Langt borte i horisonten er den bare en svart prikk.

I hånden hennes ligger sommerfuglens avtrykk igjen.

Sommerfuglens støv skinner som glitter i hennes hånd i alle mulige farger.

Så den hvite sommerfuglen var ikke helt hvit alikevel…

Den gjemte bare sin skjønnhet.

Kanskje en dag alle ser hvor vakker den fargeløse og hvite sommerfuglen er…




She takes her final steps.

Here she calls her home.

She turns around and sees her own footsteps.

She didn’t realize they looked like this.

She feels that one foot stands out from the other.

It’s like her footsteps trying to tell her something.

Her footsteps are everywhere in this place.

So much emotion.

She just wants to wipe them away.

She will soon be on a journey.

A journey where she will color all colors in the rainbow,

in the wind and in her colorless wings.

She envisions a white butterfly.

Feeling through heavy headwinds.


Lives lifeless on the ground.

She strokes it gently.

She sees a small wound in the fragile body.

It will always be a scar.

She lifts it up to the sky.

Hope it is strong enough to fly.

The butterfly’s feelings move up and down.

Turns its wings slightly.

Raises up and flies.

Long away from the horizon it is just a black shadow.

In her hand, the butterfly’s imprint is again.

Dust shines like glitter in her hand,

in all possible colors.

So the white colorless butterfly was not quite white anyway …

It just hid its beauty.

Maybe someday everyone sees how

beautiful the colorless and white butterfly is …