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Anastasiia May 2019
Surrounded by scraps of paper
all over the timber floor
with a pair of morning rays
gleaming over her shoulder
she seated herself in her father’s study
and cruised to the shores of Norway.

Erasing word after word
tearing pages apart
her ship sailed
through the endless waters
of the Baltic sea
passing Copenaghen.

Holding onto the deck railings
and a loose-leaf notebook
she survived a storm
and a pirate invasion.
Her pen was her sword
in the shadows of the brightest star.

Leaning on the amber cupboard
that her father kept locked at all times,
she met a male whale and a female whale
or at least she thought so;
a chain of islands and Scandinavian mountains.
But it was time to moor, the brunch was ready.
Mili Vada Apr 2019
I’m drawn into,
Scooped up
I’m shattered in thousands,
Glued right up
I’m head over heals,
But just not in you.
Marte Lindholm Aug 2018
Palms, acacia, and eucalyptus trees
Long, white beaches
Red, hot sand
Down under
Far from home
A spark lits up
Like the stars shining
Over the spread-out city

Oak, spruce and pine trees
Long, deep fjords
White, cold snow
Up in the north
Somehow far from home
Cloudy and raining
A glimpse of the moon
The same as you see
When home isn't home anymore
nick armbrister Feb 2018

Memories become reality, events are lucid
and ongoing as brown haired girl stares thru
her frizzy hair, it’s not fair!
It’s too deep – do I like the girl?
Is your sister weird too?
Are you so weird too?
Maybe you doubt my love for you,
a foreign landscape dwarfs you,
diminishes you, makes you nothing but a girl.
You ask me my view, I reply
you’ll have to make up your own mind.
A million pretty girls have walked this land,
most are dead now. Their beauty heart stopping,
their country wordless, timeless.
We go to triple north deep fjords, midnight sun,
hazy skies of Freya. You invoked such a girl
in our spell on our enemy,
one day I, we’ll go to such shores.
To Viking lands, Leaves Eyes music,
Tristania and Mortiis. No mere girl can encompass
my love for you or a beauty you have yet to see.
Take you to frozen lake where biplanes flew
and fought against **** enemies.
A beauty rather indescribable but from your soul,
see it with me and you’ll understand.
Looming over deep dug dale
with wending fjord below,
the Pulpit Rock stands over all
in Norway's chilling snow.

A sunny day it was that time
when I fared with my kin.
Up the Pulpit Rock we marched,
met with glory's din.

Imagine now, a cloudless sky
with sapphire blue abounding;
folk from far and wide had come;
the beauty was astounding.

That ancient Northern land in front,
home to the god of thunder.
Though sweat dripped from our weary brow,
we stood and basked in wonder.

So if you've never hiked that way,
you're in for quite a shock.
You'll find a world beyond your own
upon the Pulpit Rock.
nick armbrister Jan 2018
Sat here in my flat I think of Norway,
of all the places I’ve seen there and the bands –
Gaate, Blood Red Throne, Satyricon, Amulet and more.
To my Norse gothic bands I’ve seen here in England –
Mortiis, Madder Mortem, Leaves Eyes, Octavia and Tristania.
How I love it and can’t get enough of them.
When will Sirenia come gig here?
Norway and your music, I love you very much.
Dark Delectable Delicious Destructive -
Poems For Goths, Gangsters and Other Mysterious Souls
20 Years of Nick Armbrister's Dark Poems
Scott Hamsun Dec 2016
Well it seems that one million miles from my home
where the water is clear and the valleys are gold
And the land that is really home to me
is all the way across the sea

I hold in my hand my soul and my fate
I try to use gold when lead would be great
I can tell even though I cannot see
The land that I care for is full of beauty

The old me is gone and I miss his laugh
But he's captive now in a photograph
And the many great things I could have seen here
have vanished with time and gone with the years

Ive looked through the sky and fallen like rain
the place that I landed was never explained
the mobile I was given from a drunken clown
painted my smile just like his cold frown

for how far I've traveled Im in the same place
sometimes I doubt life isn't a race
and even with all the trips round the sun
time can **** pain just as good as a gun
Terry Collett Oct 2016
It was Dalya's way
of looking at me
that warmed me
to the core,

(some place
outside Oslo),

we shared a cake
and ate with forks,

I was remembering
the night she crept
into my tent,

(the Aussie guy
and gone to the tent
of the Yorkshire lass),

and began to undress
in the small confines
of the tent,

and I lay there
watching and waiting,

(beat old
fashion dating),

her small *******
tight and taut,

her slim figure,

and in the semi dark
I tried to fathom
lower down,

but she lay beside me
and we embraced.  

This cake
is to die for,
she said,
forking in
the last morsel.

How about
some more?

Of course,
I said,

trying to recall
what it was I saw.
Terry Collett May 2016
She's spread there,
Dalya, legs
set aside,

in the tent
that we share,
lying there

in dim light,
her soft fruit
on offer,

the two small
melon *******,
her dark fig

waiting for
me to push
plough or kiss.

There's music
from speakers
blaring out

in the camp,
voices calling
from other

tents nearby.
I engage
her beauty,

handle fruits
of melons,
open up

the dark fig
(not apple)
enter in,

plough her trench
with fine skill
without sense

of time's clock
or moral scorn,
just us here

making love
in tent's hold
keeping out

dark night's cold.
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