nicola-hart - Hello Poetry

I speak two languages English and Mandarin I have known them for years they are my friends they are my enemies Without the right words I cannot understand the language of art of poetry, of writing of what it is to be human When the right words come it slips subtlety across my lips Boreas, the Greek god of the cold north wind descends upon the staged mythological scene with violent purpose; all is a torrent of charged masculine rage. Such sense of impending danger describing a force beyond human yet carrying a distinctly human emotion Rage and violent anger Words show me what I cannot see Beyond the brush strokes Beyond the composition and form I hear words that describe that philosophizes and enlightens the mind, soul, and body

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Nov 11, 2011

Nov 11, 2011 at 8:27 AM UTC

nicola-hart

The Language of Art

I speak two languages English and Mandarin I have known them for years they are my friends they are my enemies Without the right words I cannot understand the language of art of poetry, of writing of what it is to be human When the right words come it slips subtlety across my lips Boreas, the Greek god of the cold north wind descends upon the staged mythological scene with violent purpose; all is a torrent of charged masculine rage. Such sense of impending danger describing a force beyond human yet carrying a distinctly human emotion Rage and violent anger Words show me what I cannot see Beyond the brush strokes Beyond the composition and form I hear words that describe that philosophizes and enlightens the mind, soul, and body

25

There's a serenity to rain it takes me back to a different time when rain was just rain no deep underlying meaning for it I walk along the streets of the city wait by the fountain full of big fish and my mom holds the umbrella as we walk side by side Just me and her in a land far away from here I ask her questions, curious I don't always understand her answers It's funny how a little raindrop can hold so many memories Or perhaps, rain is just rain And it's us that never forgets, holding on far too long.

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Nov 6, 2011

Nov 6, 2011 at 6:19 AM UTC

nicola-hart

Raindrops

There's a serenity to rain it takes me back to a different time when rain was just rain no deep underlying meaning for it I walk along the streets of the city wait by the fountain full of big fish and my mom holds the umbrella as we walk side by side Just me and her in a land far away from here I ask her questions, curious I don't always understand her answers It's funny how a little raindrop can hold so many memories Or perhaps, rain is just rain And it's us that never forgets, holding on far too long.

16

Innocence and purity The cream-colored concoction of vanilla Love and affection The saccharine sentimental pink of strawberry Sophistication and maturity The beautiful, breath-taking silky brown of chocolate Passion and lust The fiery fervent flame of cherry Happiness and joy The dazzling yellow of lemon like a ray of sunshine The various flavors of the human life Like those of a birthday cake Each piece made of those very same flavors But ultimately different from any other Bold baker who combines creamy concoctions to savor The harmonious rays radiating from sunlight’s daily greeting Parallel your yearning for vibrancy and unity Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla flavors occupy your platter While the sun’s polychrome glow birthed from its own palette

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Nov 6, 2011

Nov 6, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC

nicola-hart

A Special Birthday Cake

Innocence and purity The cream-colored concoction of vanilla Love and affection The saccharine sentimental pink of strawberry Sophistication and maturity The beautiful, breath-taking silky brown of chocolate Passion and lust The fiery fervent flame of cherry Happiness and joy The dazzling yellow of lemon like a ray of sunshine The various flavors of the human life Like those of a birthday cake Each piece made of those very same flavors But ultimately different from any other Bold baker who combines creamy concoctions to savor The harmonious rays radiating from sunlight’s daily greeting Parallel your yearning for vibrancy and unity Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla flavors occupy your platter While the sun’s polychrome glow birthed from its own palette

19

I close my eyes, to dream images come to mind ideas spring forward a brave new world is made To describe such a thing colors beyond two dimensions a feeling words cannot fathom languages undiscovered But then the dark plot unveils As always it comes to us the dark circles us all ourselves revealed Escaptism is all but a futile attempt who we want to be who we are now The gap between the jump we must make not impossible to try for we dare to jump Over and over and over we fall short of it until we begin to accept that it is not meant to be Satisfaction unachievable who we want to be who we are not who we instead become But are we happy?

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Nov 6, 2011

Nov 6, 2011 at 5:51 AM UTC

nicola-hart

Growing Pains

I close my eyes, to dream images come to mind ideas spring forward a brave new world is made To describe such a thing colors beyond two dimensions a feeling words cannot fathom languages undiscovered But then the dark plot unveils As always it comes to us the dark circles us all ourselves revealed Escaptism is all but a futile attempt who we want to be who we are now The gap between the jump we must make not impossible to try for we dare to jump Over and over and over we fall short of it until we begin to accept that it is not meant to be Satisfaction unachievable who we want to be who we are not who we instead become But are we happy?

29