Stikkord: poem
Beautiful and battered
Art, my own orkidedatter-From a nordic author and artist:
COMING SOON
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
-Norway-
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.
-Orkidedatter-
@orkidedatter_artist
Facebook: orkidedatter_author
Black pastel love
Art, my own @orkidedatterI 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
midnight sun
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.
-Orkidedatter-
Love letters to the death
Art: my own @orkidedatterYour spirit is a last fragrance from
your touch on my cheek
darkness is crying out
you gasping for air
see into the depth of my soul
feel into the depth of my heart
sink into the depth of my eyes
unfulfilled dreams can’t be my
ashes from my rose petals
after my death
shades from a panther in the shadows
painting the weakest chain in a cloud
starless night and a path in the forest
black pearls dripping down from heaven
the perfect touch from Angels above
with love and prayers
my fragile heart can’t bear this
life on earth anymore..therefore
I write love letters to the dead…
-Orkidedatter-
Behind a mask
Art: my own @orkidedatter– Behind a mask-
Behind a mask, someone is hiding
my door was opened to my safe place
now it became my prison
I cried – no one saw my tears
I screamed in disgust – no one has ever
heard them
a little girl’s fragility gets crushed by the crime
caught in the curse of the mask
no escape
trapped in a body that slowly have died
she buried herself in pain
so as not to feel what she saw
a empty shell with a color of black
behind a mask an unwritten diary
beneath rolling waves
a sea of guilt
bound with chains and trapped in mystery
every minute passed and I felt the hell that
even darkness feared .
-Orkidedatter-
A country girl’s New Year
Art: my own @orkidedatterNew Year and my skeleton rattle of
memories of withered days
lies like an evil smoke in the air
headlines from the miserable color-spattering
paint strokes in the dark
I throw away an old treasure map from my
ruined soul on the ocean
a cold winter night that casts a veil over me of
ice crystals
I howl against the moon and
wave to nature’s queen between the stars
a dark room in my heart with fear of another
new and strange year
the old I wipe out from the canvas of life
a collection of thoughts from my dead eyes and
my scars of madness in my wounds of running
from the unknown
You spoke to me in poetry
tangle me in your rhyme
you danced with me in my darkness of sorrow
and wake me up inside
my broken heart heal
and this year you can’t burn someone who is
made of fire…
I reach for your hand
I inhale your memory because when I exhale
your ghost beneath the lilac skies and where
the cold winds blows as they strip you away…
it is time to watch what happens when bravery
lights the way
unlike storms left undspoken
-I have stared into the abyss
and it has stared back into me
I have lived there-in hell…
I will rewrite the ending to start over on the
inside…
Welcome 2020
-Orkidedatter-
It’s time to sparkle…
Art: my own @orkidedatterIt’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
night
her love is an icy touch on your ruin of a
silhouette shadow
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
ears
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….
-Orkidedatter-
Christmas’s dark wish…
Art: always my own @orkidedatterYour body is like winter wonderland
unique as a snow crystal.
I have a desire to lick all your drops
of candy.
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 soul.
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
of lovemaking.
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…
-Orkidedatter-
-That girl-
That girl show her burned and
massacred wounds
she yearn for souls with depths
deeper than world ocean`s
blue and dark souls who have
seen the furies in perdition
that girl rip off chains of this
mental cage however beaten
always a soul of the miserable
intertwined with the lost ones
a desire to fight
heartbeating
soul singing
spirit rising
phoenix within catches her legacy
finally find home
solicitations to be your gravyard
please, bury her skeleton with conscience
after your demons have eaten her soul out
and you raise that girl spirit
to yours dark heart
of a dead soul in a permanent pain.
-Orkidedatter-
A brush stroke
(English text after Norwegian text…)
Et penselstrøk
For hver gang hun tar penselen opp og ser på fargene som ligger foran henne, vil hennes hjerte synge en glad sang.
Når hun bestemmer seg for hvilken farge hun skal ha på sitt penselstrøk vil hennes sjel juble.
I det hun lar pensel og maling bli ett, skriker hennes følelser av smerte, og det ene penselstrøket minner henne på hva som var.
Hun kan ha lyse og glade farger, men allikevel kastes det en skygge over dem.
Hun kan velge triste og mørke farger og allikevel kastes en skygge over dem så de blir enda mørkere.
Hun kan bruke penselen fort med bestemte strøk. Eller bruke penselen forsiktig med lette bevegelser.
For hvert penselstrøk er det en følelse.
Jo mer hun maler, jo mer kommer «hun» frem i fargenes spill. Hennes innerste speiler seg i hva som males foran henne.
Hun trekker pusten skjelvende og holder opp det hun maler foran seg. I et lite øyeblikk, et glimt av spøkelsene og et lite glimt av smerte, kan hun se noe forandrer seg.
Hun henger opp det hun har malt opp på veggen. Tar noen steg tilbake og med beundring i blikket hun ser skyggene blir mindre og fargene kommer klarere frem.
Kan hun mestre å gi slipp.
Kan hun farge over det som var med nye farger.
Kan mørke bli lyst igjen.
Hvilke farger vil hun male på sine skjøre vinger som skal lære seg å fly?
Hun tørker bort noen tårer, tårer som faller fra dypet i hennes hjerte og som hun dekker sin sjel med…
-Orkidedatter-
//
A brush stroke
When she decides what color she should wear on her coat, her soul will rejoice.
As she lets brush and paint become one, her feelings of pain scream, and one brush stroke reminds her of what was.
She can have bright and happy colors, but still a shadow is thrown over them.
She can choose sad and dark colors and yet a shadow is thrown over them so they become even darker.
She can use the brush quickly with specific coats. Or use the brush gently with light movements.
The more she paints, the more «she» appears in the games of color. Her innermost is reflected in what is painted in front of her.
She shakes her breath trembling and holds up what she paints in front of her. In a moment, a glimpse of the ghosts and a little glimpse of pain, she can see something changing.
She hangs up what she has painted on the wall. Take a few steps back and with admiration in the eye she sees the shadows getting smaller and the colors became clearer.
Can she master to let go…
Can she color over what was with new colors…
Can darkness brighten again…
What colors will she paint on her fragile wings that will learn to fly?
She wipes away some tears, tears falling from the depths of her heart and covering her soul with …
-Orkidedatter-
