Poker Face

It takes a lot out of us. Communication. Feels like an endless battle of shape and form. This is my point of view and that one is yours, but who’s to prove what’s true. Certainly not me. In whatever way you change your perception you never know when you’re making the right move. Playing poker you’re staring straight into someone’s energy field. Their hand gestures, even the slightest twitch on their left eyebrow will hint to you a direction of play. Are they bluffing? Can we ever know? On the river, the last card is a deuce. With two twos in their hands your Queens are mucked, and all because you didn’t trust your instinct. Deep down you knew all along. You should have folded when you still had the chance. Win or lose is always the game we play.

© Nicoletta

📷: Las Vegas, Nevada

Ascension

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I know it to be true. There is a way to break this spell, cast by thousands of lives. I am paying for the sins of my fathers and mothers. The blood in my hands, dripping in lines. Spiralling in any direction, never pointing the way. Always a battle, the way of the world. I am moving forwards, I can feel it in my steps that hinder so. I can hear the beat of my heart, it is asking me to calm my mind. The noise too broken to comprehend. I feel the music silence me to the stillness of breath, and yet somewhere down below the cold night beckons me to doubt my instinct. The gut, my eternal Sun. I taste the brightness drawing closer to my spirit. It is lighting me to change. I am to become something entirely new. Teardrops pray up to the sky for answer. Confession, in no other color but violet. Rising up is the only way.

©Nicoletta

Sun Salutation

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I feel the ecstasy of the moment taking over my every thought, the lightness of my breath ascending me to a higher place, a deeper version of myself. Liberating temptation, I surrender to this moment and this moment alone. As I free my spirit, I feel the birth of life take over. Creeping shadows of the past lose control over the mobility of my body, as I become a pure stream of flowing water. Dripping, lucid…an endless swim into the arms of dreams long left unexplored. Dream upon dream, I travel with open wings like an eagle soaring above myself before I awaken. Lest I forget the magic of this moment, I capture my heart’s images like scenes from a movie. Memory pouring onto the canvas of my mind, I recollect it all through art. Motion, emotion one after the other. Meeting a laugh or cry halfway. I no longer pretend to forget…remember it all I do. In the falling abyss of time, I dress fragments with color. With music, I bless it all with sound. Gratitude…the good and bad all an equal tell of sharing. Now do I understand the teaching of it all…it finally makes sense in the twists and turns of my mind. I am finally climbing, upstream. Up and higher do I race past all obstacles. High on high do I comprehend the messages I saw in signs. Symbols in trees, painted in caves long lost mountains ancestors still sing the same song over and over again. I hear the pounding beat of the drum…incense still burning the air with truth. Footsteps echo in my toes, I feel the dance lifting the idleness of my present step. Free at last. I move, move to the call of my own self. Gentle at first…one push at a time, speaking solely to myself…wake…wake…WAKE UP! A mirror assists my voice, showing me parts of me…some I recognise…some I do, truly do…with blurry vision my eyes squint. I see you. I know you. I am you. This is me, full and new. Oh, how I’ve grown. Pride, I am proud. But more much more than this humble. My head tilting a fair share of sky and land…I know who I am…I know…who I am.

 

© Nicoletta

Photo by: Alexandra Van Zutphen 

follow me @theowlswiseeyespoetry on instagram for daily poetry 

Face of the Sun

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I felt her roots firmly ground me,

Morning dew

Washing the pain away.

She shied her power

With a humble smile at the Sun.

 

The light on her face

Healing forests afar,

A single seed of hers

Greeting seven generations to come.

 

© Nicoletta

 

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

 

 

Photo by @hellenmangseth: Norway

follow her on Instagram

Sunday Morning

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Sometimes I count the way you look at my hair in the wild and green Sunday morning walks at the park. I count the stare.

One blink. Two blink. Three and four.

And when I try to look back, you turn your eyes to the ground. As if the ground has something more important to show you. I blink at your stare in the ground. As if it could tell me why my auburn hair fascinates you so every Sunday morning.

 

© Nicoletta

 

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

 

 

Photo by Kyriakos Christodoulides

Song: Jolene-Dolly Parton

 

Sacred Woman

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She was ancient like the stars above her golden crown.
In her eyes all was known
Past
       Present
                    Future.
In her womb the secrets of the world
Birthed
All creation.

 

© Nicoletta

 

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

 

Special thanks to Alexandra Van Zutphen for photoshoot ❤

Follow her @pricklypeartravel.wordpress.com

 

Hush

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Hush I will tell you in the morning he said.
Softly spoken I responded in harmony to his whispering voice.
Do you promise?
The only promise I will make
Is tomorrow when you awake.

I closed my eyes
Lost
In dreams
Of his last words.

 

© Nicoletta

 

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

 

Photo by SVZ: Alberta, Canada

Song: Fare Thee Well- Oscar Issac & Marcus Mumford 

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