Your Song

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Ringing in my ears

Is your song

The tune plays on repeat

Through thought and dream

Your song

Plays on repeat

On and on it plays

Greets me in the day

Tucks me in at night

I hear your song

On and on it plays

On repeat.

owl

© Nicoletta

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

 

Photo by Nicoletta: Edmonton, Alberta 

Willow Tree

Willow_Tree___Rainbow_by_mrl33t

Can it be True

If I were not me,

I would be you?

And Two combined

Three?

Underneath

A Willow Tree.

Our eyes would meet

Like once before

Tumbling times

Too long ago.

Where I was You

And You were Me

Not two,

But three

Underneath

A Willow Tree.

owl

© Nicoletta

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

All the Difference

Diverged in a wood

Two roads

Implanted in our genes.

A seed paints it’s

Own picture of destination.

The sun brewing

A beam of light

Steaming forth

Steps

Dragging dripping trails of mud

Along the way.

Trampling riddles

Shedding fragments of solitude.

Lonesome travelers

Stamping footprints

Of stories they once called companions.

Tales tailing their way into

The slippery tunnels tailored

By fashionistas,

Pinned by layers of dress.

Two roads.

One choice to make

He described

Never invoking a prescription.

Mercury running down a thin

Line of craze.

One slip,

A single cut of wrong direction

Crippling the skip of a mad hatter.

With a cringe,

Each lift of leg

Stinging its way onto the path

The beginning always,

Never the ending.

Finish line

A bird’s eye views the Exit

Far off in the distance.

Tempted to jump the hurdles

Reach the finale,

No longer can pretend.

A hint further,

In the steepest of the woods

There lies the One.

The One

Description.

Imagination prescribes itself.

A difference

Crafted in art,

Stagnated in the minds of

Endless dreamers.

An all knowing eye

Seeing the choice as wise.

A prophetic ray,

Slyly hidden in the seemingly gloom.

Torn between a choice of two.

With only the courage in their hearts,

The path decides their way.

Paving sight for those willing

To look with a direct precision.

Condemned to blindfold

Those shadowed by the mind.

They.

Those few

Took on the creative genius

Of a Bard.

To prove

Through stumble and fall,

Shaking off gravel of abrupt turns

Stepping steep stones of uncertainty

Lessening lifting loads of lessons.

That One

Dear Sir,

Though tempted by a curious few.

Does make all the difference.

 

© Nicoletta

 

Morning Aroma

9 AM

Meeting

Sharp

Not a minute more

Nor a second less

High knee socks

Silk.

Dressy class

Impress

Giddy eyes of

Business suits and ties

Sleeky chic.

A longevity of lashes

Pulled to brims with mascara

Lips

Juicy red

An attention grabber

Defocusing

On the words exerted.

The aura of steamy

Coffee beans

Like a sleep walker

Drawn down the road of hazard

A long line of desperatos

Cautioning

A speeding up clock.

Time?

Just 5 to go

300 seconds

Excuse me

Sir

Yes, you in the grey

Striped tie

Perfect folded napkin

Right pocket

Lady’s first?

Por favor?

Just for today.

Texting his way

To an Americano

High heels

Not distracting

Barista’s calling out

Wake up!

Next, please

Craver number infinite.

Cup of cino

Name?

Let’s go for Jessica

But you can call me Jess

Room for cream?

Lactose free

Merci.

9 AM

Sharp

In she goes

Not a second more

Nor a minute less.

Burning aroma

Tasting it’s way

To the smiling hand

She firmly shakes.

© Nicoletta

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

Opinions

Opinions

Like slicing onions

Each dice a piece of advice.

Endure

The sting will be worthwhile.

Hold the knife you may

Critics decide the direction of the blade.

Left, right, zig-zag

Up, down, to and fro

On your own?

A person your age?

Not the way to go.

Looks like you need a pointer or two.

Follow me

The cut is this way.

An eligible bachelor

That one will do.

Proposal that’s next.

Bumps are welcome

Why not a few?

Career.

Listen up.

Don’t you have a clue?

Minimum wage’s all you need.

Four mouths to feed.

Body.

Shaping your home.

Dirt free.

Heard vacuuming is the perfect workout.

Traveling.

Special offers.

The town up the street.

Why not stop by an

All you can eat?

Yourself.

Too late for that.

Peeled off the layers.

Sharpened the tip.

Thrusted the core,

Rays of the smell

Daring pupils to drip.

A chop well done.

Cook.

Let’s see.

Raw too harsh.

Sautéed sweeter.

Caramelized

Exquisite taste.

Fine cuisine.

© Nicoletta

Glow’s to Blame

Plump cheeks hallow

Like an obese anorexic.

Hallow cheeks plump

Like an anorexic obese.

Who are you?

Money craving blood sucker.

An all you can eat buffet

In exchange for the

Stomach pumping of your soul.

It is paper you hunger.

A scrap of nothing.

At least gold has a shine to it.

Star dust, to heal your cracked hands.

Black gold,

Even better.

The oyster of the sea,

With a perfect gem,

To fix the twist in your head.

Pray the sirens call your name

And draw you close.

Drown the evil inside of you.

What are you?

In the pursuit of material,

I wonder what is your substance?

How can you stand

To live with the glistening eyes of the innocent

As they blink for the last time?

It is behind your mountain heap

That you run and hide,

Abiding your own laws.

Look up ahead.

The shouts of caution

Flashing beams of warning.

Justice will be served.

Were you too blind to see?

It was all written out for you.

They were always willing to give you a helping hand.

Given you would understand,

What road to take.

What a shame,

That glinting glow’s to blame.

Like a moth to a flame,

The light switches

And you awaken

In the ditch of your riches.

© Nicoletta

Yellow Luster

Golden touch

Gold in touch

In touch seek gold

Gold sought in touch

Copper

Cheap

Diggers of gold

Bountiful body

Laden with strain

Dolled up

A disguise to dementia

Dressed to impress

Eyes long repressed

Mascara joining the masquerade

Lashes sealed shut

Shredded sighs

Dreaming diamonds

Shriveled hands feast on youth

Idolizing adolescence

Swiveling sweat seeking sincerity

Tales of truth targeting trophies

Callipygian carvings

Blossoming bosom

Insatiable.

Rock turns to yellow luster

Epiphany erected

Till death do us part.

© Nicoletta

If this song had a voice, this is what it would sing…

One Look

Gravel.

Dirt.

Rocks.

A penny.

A sign?

Caution.

Approaching.

Focus, one look.

Stranger,

A flash of eyes I see.

This time, everyday.

Your grip

Takes hold of my senses.

I do not know

Anything.

Not one thing about you.

One look,

I feel.

I know.

Everything.

Every single thing.

Breaking my defenses,

I let you seep into my shelter.

A simple stare,

Breaking the thin line of protection

Which seals my mouth shut.

One look,

My lips tremble into a smile.

A mere glance,

My eyes intoxicated.

My sight poisoned by infatuation.

Awkwardly searching the ground,

For a remedy to shyness.

Some dirt.

To dampen the red in my cheeks.

One look,

My brain fried.

Gone.

Fumbling for words to speak.

To greet you at least.

In that split moment of the day,

All emblems of brilliance desert me.

A clean slate.

With nothing to say.

Rocks.

To solidify my confidence.

One look,

I gasp for air.

One breath to take.

An inhale to fill my lungs

With courage.

A penny.

A shine of luck.

A leap of hope,

I pick it up.

One look,

Vision full of adrenaline.

Blurred by the back of your head.

Till tomorrow.

Same time.

One look,

Swept by the shadows of the ground.

© Nicoletta

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

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