As we swim our way over the next coming months, let us take the ocean with us…connecting to its ongoing flow…keeping calm and letting go… Special thanks to my genius sister Alexandra for filming & editing but most of all for making my spoken poetry video dreams come true.


Waves how they come and go Never know where they’ll take you Waves how they swim their way Kissing the sun awake Blessing the moon goodnight That is their fate Flow how they glow I will dance in wave Pray I grow as one with it And while I’m dreaming I’ll wash the shore Until I am no more Not me Nor he Never she I am a wave A wave I am A wave I’ll always be.

Taste of a Perfect Storm


My soul cried out remember,
My mind pounding in thought
The crashing waves
Drew closer
In time for a perfect storm.
In the rolling waters
I lost myself,
Bit by bit a little more.
And as the faintest light
Touched the corner of my eye,
I breathed a sigh of the ocean
Into every part of me.

© Nicoletta

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

Photo by me: Limassol, Cyprus

Little Girl Blue


Little girl Blue
What ever happened to your smile?
I can faintly see it
Crested in the train of your cheeks.
Little girl Blue
What ever happened to your sparkle?
I can vaguely see it
In your eyes when the sun comes up.
Little girl Blue
Whatever happened to your heart?
I can barely see it beating in your chest.
Little girl Blue
What ever happened to you?


© Nicoletta


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





Rush of Rose


Weathering my mind

With ideas

I had a sudden thought.

Like a chiming echo

Entering both ends of ears

A meeting point in the center.

Light bulb rays hovered over

The thin line of hair

Brushing the top of my temple.

Thickening the roots

With a strand of memory,

A humble view

Of all I’ve come to know

Showering myself with gratitude.

Soaping in


Squeaky clean reminiscence.

Polishing the back

The hardest parts to reach,

Lavishing nectar

On the smooth slide of skin.


Unscented pathways

With a running

Rush of rose.


© Nicoletta

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

A Face of Matrimony

In my eyes, they see you.


Your splashing pigments and shape.

My curls bounce a memory of your strands.

The creases in my smiling eyes,

Yours mother.

Lucid flows of laughter bursting out of my mouth,

It is your giggles they hear.

Confusing others with the sound of your voice,

Tricking buds on the tip of my tongue.

Each and every part of my face,

A puzzle piece of your making.

They see each of you in me,

Yet, I see none of You.

What You were.

Who You were.

How You were.

In the lines of life,

Painting experience onto my expression

I do see apart of You.

Each crack, deepening the affection

Of skin and imperfection.

Blemishes distancing youth,

Two teenagers madly in love.

Innocence long drifted away.

Adolescent passion perfectly hidden,

In the fragments of my face.

Carvings of separation,

Deepened in roots of divorce.

The firmness of togetherness

Overlaid by each fractured break.

In each layered flaw,

Masked is the tight unity of us.


Two letters,

Symbols drawn by a magnetic pull.

Standing side by side,

Supporting each others character.

The empty spaces of a jigsaw I see,

The failure of finding a match.

Scattered missing pieces.

Eyes belonging to you;

Father they see.

Your laughter mother.

A faded matrimony of You that will forever be me.

© Nicoletta

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

Endless Stream

Rolling around emotions

A coaster of feeling

Aboard a ship of fools.

Infected by affection,

Allowing deception to

Fog the clarity of mind.


A great vision in sight.

Detachment tall in stance.

Deepened by depths of blue.

In trance the so called reality of life.

Instinct tells tales of oceans beyond.

Where love lies in a pool of purity.

Imagination sunk in mirrors of ancient wisdom,

Anchored in scrolls of forever.

Treasure hidden in mind’s maps of material,

True emeralds found in hearts of gold.

Consciousness streams together in the

dribbles and ripples of endless time.

© Nicoletta

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

Your Words

I hear words.

Words I hear.


Slipping from your tongue,

Vowels, mixed in a bowl of consonants.

A blend of ABC’s I have grown to know more than

A child practices it’s 1,2,3’s.

These vocal vibrations tremble into the depths of my own.

My personal song, a never-ending tone in my thoughts.

Why do these waves I have swam across so many times

Seem so foreign as they wash to the shore of my ears?

I hear them.

Like the melodic calling of the sea as one holds a seashell to their ear.

A string of letters birthing word after word.

A combination, uttered from any other mouth would be bound to gain comprehension.

And yet, it is your moving mouth I see,

Your perfect ability to combine meaning upon each sound you project.

A fixation of essence you spill upon each stock of vocabulary you share.

Yet my mind cannot bear to unite understanding with your lexis.

The stubbornness of my Self fails to unravel the flows flooding from your lips.

For they’d make perfect sense had they been

Expressed by any other existence in this universe

But you.

I hear words.

Your words.

The reality of the meaning they carry

Cannot enter my imagination.

A distance deepening upon each statement.

Each production of unified letters, pushing our bodies further apart.

A repellant you spray with each twist of your tongue.

My own language you speak,

And yet my brain is too weak to apprehend.

The symbols you strike,

Knock out the wind of my pipe.

For what voice is left?

But yours.

The final words of connection,

Drift us to another dimension.

Where I stand alone, still unable to crack

The code you once spoke.

© Nicoletta

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

People are Strange

Yes Jim, people are strange.

Strangeness, a liquid that all humanity drinks.

Reshaping faces,

Making them squared, yellow, circular, pink.

Strangeness, liquifying characters,

Some rapid and flowing like waterfalls.

Others dominated by fluidity,

Shape shifters,

Changing appearance upon each mirror glance.

Like the waves of seas,

Altering upon each breeze.

Some pompous and bold,

Like the Great Pericles,

Determined to build a temple to worship the goddess of all wisdom.

Others absorbing that wisdom,

With eyes as wise as owls, hooting with each spoonful of knowledge.

Obtaining, receiving from the Word of predecessors.

Others producing, competing to outshine contemporaries.

A blend of past, present and future creating a pleasant mixture of peculiarity.

For yes Jim, people are strange.

Their habits are on a scale of odd to even.

Their ways unfamiliar or way too familiar.

Some beg on their knees for a nickel

While others stand tall, preparing for war.

Some proud, protesters of peace,

Others executors, aiming unaware targets.

Some hungry for fame,

While others hide from shame.

Some conniving and seductive,

Convincing with their charisma.

Others bruised and weak, shadowed by insecurity.

Some as loud as a frog’s croak.

Others hushed, a grip wrapped around their throat.

Some minds dull and obtuse,

Others beaten by abuse.

Captains of ships, guiding the way.

Workers on board, slaving away.

An endless ocean of peculiarities.

For yes Jim, people are strange.

For yes Jim, we are all strangers.

© Nicoletta

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

Rippling Touch


The gentle rush of water,
Every drop filled with love.
A unison of peace and serenity,
Upon each ripple.

A harmonious symphony,
Each splash revealing a message from above.
To the common ear a simple, mundane sound;
For the majestic flow only unveils itself to believers.

Those blessed with not two eyes but three,
Are rewarded with the heavenly melody.
Angelic laughter can be heard; a tingling, joyous sensation.
Like the pure heart of an innocent child.

The chimes of mystical fairies ring as they giggle and twinkle.
Flashing a rainbow of extravagance, as they waltz with their fated partners.
The power of the embrace,
Transcending realms of space.

The past, present, future all merged in one.
For in the hypnotic flow of waves,
Time is merely an elusive concept.
Ancient, classical tones creep in contemporary tunes.
Altering, shaping them as they flash distant memories.

Everything can be remembered among the falls of water.
Hidden worlds from conscious memory spark to life,
As streams cleanse blurry, blinded eyes.
Enhancing vision with each rippling touch.

© Nicoletta

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