The day is short and the night is long in this
country in the north with its snow-capped
mountains and fjords with white veil that lie
still in this dark time, the river flows with its
ice crystals dancing in the waterfall that
hovers with the north wind beyond the dusk
and she lights a candle.
The Northern Lights dances in joy where the
polar bears eyes glimmering infront of the
Christmas star that blinks in this
frozen winter night where the last ray of the
moon’s mystery slowly fades away until
she lights a candle.
A child’s face resting against the window pane
in the hope…..
underneath the Christmas tree
lies everything she wish for, but it is too good to
Snow crystals fall outside are unique, beautiful
and shines evocative in the cold night.
She light a candle where she dreams an Arctic
dream about the miracle of the infant faith.
The white dove flies silently through the chains
that lift the adventure of hope behind
the jewel of the dark night.
Somewhere with the frost on her cheeks,
a little girl lights a candle for all the stories that
are expressed without words, that are burned
into the scars of the human hearts.
My first poetry collection in English language is
released on 12.1.2020. (Amazon.com)
Available in my linktree:
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
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
Art my own @orkidedattere_artist
Art my own @orkidedatter @orkidedatter_artist
In a big, dark and cold temple she is
hunting for a secret King.
A hypnotic kind of magic in his atmosphere
and his eyes met hers.
She owned him and the air around
them stood still.
A hidden clandestine love of her life.
In love with his metaphorical history
and a desire to solve his intelligence.
Entwined by a spitting cobra she blinded him
with her beauty.
He was tempted and swollowed her soul.
He printed fragmented words into her heart.
She spoke into the flames of the King in a
She is descended from a decoded puzzle.
Petals broken as dust from a shadow lost in a
A perception uncovered his being unleashed
her heart and soul.
Forest of her mind temptations.
A key to interpret the depth within her sorrow
beneath her alluring silhouette.
A tragic reincarnated broken temptress,
and her tears blew with the silent wind and
scratched into stone…
I have a trumpet in my black pastel heart
a symphony in my chest
a melody of the colors of the rainbow flows
in my veins as creates a bridge to his soul
I fell in love with an aquarius under the
upon the mountain high
you gave me a summer kiss
your shimmering verses from your trembled
lips in the line with the shades of color of
heaven as an amethyst makes
waves of euphoria flowing over all
the pores of my body.
Your eyes danced solasta bright when
I took my feathers out from my long hair
to play it on your skin.
Your laughter tickled my heart strings and
you whispered to my Angels wings
«we are condemned to act in portrays of the
crystalline from ours cards of future»
My destiny from Cupid`s arrow is
written into my history of black pastel love.
It’s time to sparkle….
She felt the Christmas spirit was buried deep
within her flesh and bones
a moment before dark a blacbird whistling
from the navy blue sky in the snowfall
across the moonstream and shade to shade
she walk like a princes of sorrow in these cold
her love is an icy touch on your ruin of a
death roams all around her black Christmas
fire deep inside her darkness
a silent night before Christmas
no one can hear her screams in jarring tones
behold a glimmer in the black dreams of
crushed Christmas holiday
ghosts of Christmas past throw back
memories from when she covered her eyes and
she has always scent the smell of hell
she have no heart for joy
a dark girl never smile
no luck are written in the stars of destiny
when the frozen moonbeams chases her
missing pieces through the dark
too often she was afraid of what lurks behind
the wall pretending to be light
a sound of tears a moment after the fear of
the sound of crushed glass behind the shadow
of her soul
watching the night upon the forest
the dead souls taking flight from
a cementery grave when she close her eyes
frozen tears falling down her cheeks
her kiss is like the wind so cold on your lips
she can feel herself falling
now she is crawling by the snowflakes that
glittering like emeralds around her
cadence of her last breath
a silent night before christmas
while the night still hides her withered heart….
Your body is like winter wonderland
unique as a snow crystal.
I have a desire to lick all your drops
Swallow your nectar to taste you within.
You are my Mr. Christmas,
I’m your grief,
going togheter like fire and ice.
A want to exhale Christmas spirit, but all my
heartstrings plays is a melody of sadness,
I curl up and hide.
Outside the snow silently settled.
You understand the world inside me.
You told me sacred secrets to close a chapter in
My noisy mind began to smile.
All the little things created to shapes in colours
lit a fire deep down.
You touched me like Angels wings,
faded away all my fear.
You grab my hair.
Your sensual hands holding my hips,
you pushed me up against the wall.
A Christmas hot mystery of explosive fireworks
that’s wandered right into between my legs.
You are my savior soul I longing for.
I tease your luscious lips
and seduce those to mine,
take you with my tounge
to a distance that make you forget to breath.
We are dancing in the flames.
I’m breathing harder and faster.
We loose controll.
We thouch the sky.
Shooting stars falling behind my rolling eyes.
You inhale that alluring cent of my lotus,
you bring all my petals out.
Sweatbathed skin skim across of lust and every
forward thrust straddling the fine line between
pain and passion.
The moment our heart’s pulses
and two souls screams in mercy…
You are hard as ice.
As a waterfall I flow down your magic part
You are slaying my wrong side of my
heart and completes us on a seldom level.
I collapse when you squeeze my mountains
and you make me some milk
sweet and thick…
I moan for both of us when
each little dark wish of mine
comes true the night before Christmas…
(English text after the Norwegian).
Jeg ser ut av mitt vindu og det skjærer meg i hjertet når jeg observerer en gravemaskin og mann med motorsag. Jeg skjønner med ett hva som er i ferd med å skje.
Det store og det vakreste treet jeg vet om som står i skogkanten ved mitt hjem er i ferd med å dø. Det er i ferd med å ta sine siste åndedrag her på denne jord.
Jeg hører den brutale lyden fra motorsagen, og jeg ser gravemaskinen løfter opp sin lange hals og setter sin graveskuffe med tenner mot treet.
Først veldig skånsomt og så begynner hele treet og bevege på seg. Det danser frem og tilbake som en langstrakt skjønnhet med ny krone på hode og som er vakker omsvøpt i sin barkekjole som stråler stolthet.
Jeg kan se treet vinke farvel til livet, kanskje det vet at jeg står her? Det faller så hardt mot bakken og jeg føler tårene presse seg frem. Min sjel gråter. Jeg kan se en tåre faller ut av mitt øye i mitt skyggebilde fra vinduet.
Ide treet faller i bakken høres en lyd jeg aldri vil glemme og jeg ser det prøver hjelpeløst og komme seg opp igjen. Få festet sin lange vakre stamme ned i sine røtter igjen og prøve å stå så majestetisk i jorden som det har gjort i mange år.
Det går ikke.
Treet blir liggende og vaie mot jorden et par ganger og så er det helt stille. Rolig og ingen bevegelser.
Jeg føler hjertet mitt brister, et av naturens vakre skapninger har måttet gi tapt for menneskets harde redskap.
Et naturens hjerte som har slått under all slags vær, sommer som vinter.
Et tre som alltid har vist sine skjønne farger når høsten er på vei.
Alltid har de fargerike bladene har skint som briljerende diamanter i høstduggens morgentimer.
Alltid har greinene strekt seg mot vårsolens varme stråler.
Alltid har treet vaiet så vakkert i vinden og raslet den vakreste musikk.
Bare et tre?
Nei, ikke for Orkidèdatter.
Dette treet har vær en av Orkidèdatters mange «venner» i barndommen. Jeg snakket med det. Jeg lekte under det, og treet var alltid det beste publikum der jeg satt under det, og sang for meg selv.
Jeg følte meg alltid trygg under dette treet. Det hadde sin egen evne til å beskytte meg. Jeg følte at treet på en eller annen måte la sine greiner rundt meg og holdt meg forsiktig fast. Forsiktig som i en trøstende klem, og for å vise omsorg.
Forsiktig som i en drøm- når jeg ikke orket mer av livet, men det kloke treet viste meg råd.
For meg var dette treet magisk, og kunne ta meg med inn i sin verden, der alt var vakkert, ikke dømmende og alt var snilt.
Jeg kan føle magien strømme ned til jordens indre her jeg står, og der skal den lagre seg, og kanskje en dag vil treet oppstå et eller annet sted.
Jeg ser ut av vinduet mitt. Jeg ser et tomrom der treet har stått. Jeg kan føle det i mitt hjerte at naturens eget hjerte har sluttet å slå.
Ingen dansende rytmer fra treets egne greiner mer, og ingen vakre farger som skal vaie i vinden og lage vakker musikk for Orkidèdatter.
I look out of my window and it cuts my heart when I observe an excavator and a man with a chainsaw. I understand at once what’s happening.
The big and the most beautiful tree I know of standing at the edge of the forest at my home is about to die. It is about to take it`s last breath here on this earth.
I hear the brutal sound of the chainsaw, and I see the excavator lifting up it`s long neck and putting it`s shovel with teeth against the tree.
First very gentle, and then the whole tree begins to move. It dances back and forth like an elongated beauty with a new crown on it`s head and beautifully wrapped in it`s barking gown that radiates pride.
I can see the tree wave goodbye to life, maybe it knows I’m standing here?
It falls so hard to the ground and I feel the tears pushing forward. My soul is crying. I can see a tear falling out of my eye in my shadow image from the window.
When the tree falls into the ground, itis a sound I will never forget, and I see it trying helplessly getting up again.
Get your long beautiful tribe attached to it`s roots again and try to stand as majestic in the earth as it has been for many years.
The tree stays and waves against the earth a couple of times and then it is completely silent. Calm and no movements.
I feel my heart is hurting, one of nature’s beautiful creatures had to lose to man’s hard tool.
A nature’s heart that has beaten during all kinds of weather, summer and winter.
A tree that has always shown it`s beautiful colors when autumn is on it`s way.
Always have the colorful leaves have shine like brilliant diamonds in the morning scarf.
The branches have always stretched towards to suns of the spring.
The tree has always been so beautiful in the wind and rustled the most lovely music.
Just a tree?
No, not for Orkidèdatter.
This tree has been one of Orkidèdatters many «friends» in childhood. I talked to it. I played under it, and the tree was always the best audience when I sat under it, and sang to myself.
I always felt safe under this tree. It had it`s own ability to protect me. I felt that the tree somehow laid it`s branches around me and held me gently.
Careful as in a comforting hug and care.
Careful as in a dream, when I couldn’t bear my life, but the wise tree showed me advice.
For me, this tree was magical and could take me into it`s world, where everything was beautiful, not judgmental, and everything was kind.
I can feel the magic flowing down to the interior of the earth here I stand, and there it must store, and maybe one day the tree will again occur somewhere in the nature.
I look out of my window.
I see an empty space where the tree has stood. I can feel in my heart that nature’s own heart has stopped beating.
No dancing rhythms from the tree’s own branches anymore, and no beautiful colors to wrap in the wind and make lovely music for Orkidèdatter.