Stikkord: writer
It’s looking a lot like Christmas time…
My poetry collection, Beautiful & battered, breaking through the chains
Poem;
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
be true.
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.
-Orkidedatter-
Lips
Photo: credit to the right owner
Words: @orkidedatter
@orkidedatter_artist
Facebook: orkidedatter author
The mask of flame

A closed world and betrayed by all.
I`m cold and freezing, no one to hold me.
I lose my mind, accustomed to the concept of
being sad.
They took my body, slayed my joy of life.
Masks of dark shadows in the night, beckon in
the moonlight.
A mind molestad by malicious madness,
tearing me apart.
My deathly demise seems to be my embrace to
a better place.
The wolf`s heart trembles in misunderstood
love.
The wings of the unknown demon strike me on
the cheek,
down my jaws to my spine and pain burned
like a hidden
love in disguise.
The mask of flame hunts me in the darkest
night, a ghost from
my past is back.
My heart is silent.
A beautiful silence in the middle of a black
storm.
A bloody fist, a broken mirror, my shadow is
laughing.
Peripheral view moved along us, made to be
broken.
Bats piercing my mind with toxit tears and
saliva.
I have no chance, everything is fake, cold and a
empty coffin
with human body dust.
My first breathe in this world and I was already
judged.
I am not a soul that is on a dead or alive
poster…
I am invisible and not worthy to breathe.
When the mask of flames ignite again….
RUN….
-Orkidedatter-
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
-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-







