«Tankeslottet» en dikt antologi krydret med flere forfattere med garanti om å røre ved din sjel og stemning i ditt hjerte. Tusen takk til @rebeccablix.forfatter.skribent og @rebecca_blix_forlag du er helt herlig og jeg er så takknemlig for denne muligheten, og tusen takk til kunstner @jarlgoliartworks for å ha illustrert dette nydelige bokomslaget, jeg digger deg og din kunst. Rebecca og Jarl bidrar med sine dikt også i «Tankeslottet» Gleder meg til å få denne hjem.
The artist at my publisher #nextchapterpub has captured the essence in this cover and I’m beyond grateful, thank you so much. ———- …..book description….
From the soul, heart, mind, body and spirit of Orkidedatter, The Rescue – from the eyes of a bleeding child – is a collection of dark poetry inspired by the author’s childhood.
The author’s crossing points of the physical, psychological and the imagination are anchored inside this book. Mental health is close to Orkidedatter’s heart, and writing has been one of her methods for overcoming her demons during the darkest moments in her life.
To communicate that you are not alone in fighting bad memories is the soulful purpose of this collection of poems. Do not be afraid to face your worst fears, dive into your mind, and face what you are experiencing with an open heart. It’s not easy, but take a deep breath, breathe and listen to your body. You can be surprised by how strong you are.
Read with your eyes, listen with your heart and feel with your mind, and join in on a therapeutic rise from the fire in the abyss, to have a will to live a life with your head over the surface. Become the phoenix rising from the ashes. ——————————————————— Together with my publisher, after a lot of conversations, I said yes to use my real name as an author name this time, because this is a poetry collection based on my life, my childhood and it’s close to my heart, but, I’m still Orkidedatter as an artist. ———————————————————- Darker Colder Unwanted ….I looked into the mirror and what did I see…
—— a poetry collection based on a true story the author’s own story______
❤︎ My poetry collection volume 2 coming soon. A collection of dark poems based on a true story.
Scars from a sharpened knife… -a little girl once tried to create a better sculpture of herself at age 9… therefore, you can rarely see her left side of her face…
❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ She is sensual, sexual and passionate a warrior a Viking Princess a northern light a dark soul a survivor a Nordic woman untamed beauty and a bold heart artistic soul a mother a story keeper a mysterious wilderness
the one who carry my ancients within the marrow of my bones the one who have bathed in my own blood the one who wear my scars like stars with proud and beauty.
I’m a vision and a dream I’m a nightmare on the holy altar I’m an ice maiden from a rebirth of Hell and back.
I’m tender, fragile and only me with all my flaws. I’m a flame over a crystalline bridge between death and our world.
I’m a seed from cosmos and a daughter of a courageous man of the woods, a woman of a force of nature.
I’m vulnerable and transparency, but I’m a heart of acceptance and authenticity of my life… I’m me and only me… ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎
Scent of desire aroused his mating season. New Year is the time when all wolves go wild with their insatiable hunger, and me as a weak shattered she wolf is the only thing he can’t have, can’t touch, can’t lose control by tasting her salty skin… can’t meet her primal urges, can’t hear her mouths moaning, can’t pull her upon a pine to make him came more alive..
He wished for to chase her, close her darkness, lick her wetness with his long blue tongue, and plunge into a swollen lust-filled riverbank with shivering diamond pearls bubling over of relief down his bulged carnal desire…
❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎ -A winter rose-
A winter rose played with your cord, unraveled strings… Death is a bizarre soul, I just had to understand, a steam fills my mind while you are stabbing me with Arctic icicles… I’m dark, haunted and bleeding my own blood for the silence you cutted me with so deeply.
Orkidèdatter 