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Elisa Laura Sep 2012
~ Aurora Borealis

Under the arch of a starry sky
With a temperature well below zero
I touched your soul with my warm hands
Like an round aura, you reflected the universe
Of our love...

A labyrinth of roads that lead
In stardust, your thoughts whirl as
Small particles, and with pure reflection
My Aurora Borealis you're so beautiful, robust
And longing…

I take you into my warm cabin
Where we drink hot chocolate
The icicles are in your unshaven beard
I find you charming with your red hands
I'll warm you up…

The cold wind makes cracking our wooden hut
And along the windows shrilled the sound
In contrast with our warm fireplace
The crackling of the wood is divine
I look at you…

My Aurora Borealis, you are so handsome
With your thick winter coat still on,
As purple and green sparks reach our
Living room, where your dark hair glistens
I kiss you…

It will never be really dark
In days of love, where light shines
And see your reflection sparkle
Where I could rest by your presence
I am with you…


~ Elisa Laura


© 2012 E. L.
.
His hormones rage as
she bathes in the setting sun.

Hollywood tan lines-



Beauty--

and the beast beneath the

Corona Borealis.







.
I ♥ Tennessee
.




Count the stars in a moonless sky
as Borealis dances alone.
Reminds me of a cold, distant fire--
or childhood memories churning.
                  *
Making their bed on the cooling sand,
a new lovers' fire consumes.
Embers crackle and the night rages on
while the rest of the world's slowly burning.
                  *
Borealis, twists and turns and
sings,"How sweet the sound,"
as a sleepy ocean lullaby
comes crashing to the ground.
                 *
You've got comets and Cupid's
arrows falling all about
as dolphins race through
an electric atmosphere.
                 *
Where time and man
co-exist as thought,
when you choose the right door
you're outta here.
                 *
Count the stars in a moonless sky
as Borealis dances alone.
Reminds me of a cold, distant fire--
or childhood memories churning.
                  *
Making their bed on the cooling sand,
a new lovers' fire consumes.
Embers crackle and the night rages on
while the rest of the world's slowly burning.
                  *
Borealis, twists and turns and
sings,"How sweet the sound,"
as a sleepy ocean lullaby
comes crashing to the ground.






.
brandon nagley Jul 2015
Mi amour'
Do not get jealous
Mi amour,
Didst thou knoweth?
Thou art mine Aurora Borealis....
TS Ray Nov 2019
I shall go up north,
as north as I could possibly go,
trekking the wilderness of darkened hue,
to have a little adventure with you.

Shining lights from everywhere,
as dark a sky as it were,
greens and blues of a multi-color fare,
I wish I can be there to enjoy your every flare.

Tiny disturbances can be so magnetic,
causing an atmosphere to become electric,
as far as the elves have been to arctic,
I bet I haven’t seen anything more mystic.

You looked like the wishful green master
that was ready to grant all my wishes, yet
seeing you up close was a
dream that was more than all my wishes fulfilled.

Maybe, you really are that genie from a bottle.  :)
TS. 11/13/2019.
Ma Cherie Jan 2017
The great Green Mountains,
up where the tallest evergreens grow,
stretching,
upward an outward,
toward the heavens,
a perimeter of boundaries,
where white iridescent angels,
can drift,

Touching the clouds,
in winds of change coming,
gathered together sheltering storms,
alongside barren maples
and birches,
with shriveled others aging,
gracefully,
bowing down to winter's bone,
and ready for Spring's solstice.

When,
in surging solar winds,
upward of,
a million miles an hour,
40 hours after leaving their sun,
raining in an big bright ariel shower,
emphasizing their greatness,
in an eerie tranquility,
behind a diffused hazy luster,
a distant soft moon light,
in a beautiful Glory Shining.

Silvery satin ribbons,
and celadon green bends,
as colors wait pensive to create
in messages it then sends,
a heavenly landscape,
for their part in the prism ballet,
these arial acrobats,
yearn to touch tips on sturdy cutouts,
of tall old aging trees,

Dancing into ever-changing,
multifaceted soft,
an inspiring hues,
an shifting in the breeze
they move above,
in a mystical rhythm,
a dark and mysterious,
black smoke rises
in between rays,
in the opaque darkest hour,
for the creation of,
a spiritual backdrop,
mysterious feeling power
in the magnificent,
Magnetic Midnight.

The darker the sky,
the brighter the light,
for an otherworldly setting,
as colors merge and ignite
while they mix the palate again,
I am lost in silent reverie,
for the forces that dance there in that blackness,

Awe-inspiring,
breathtakingly beautiful,
alien,
frightening,
imparting comforting wisdom,
it is everything an so exciting,
and healing to your soul,
like a hauntingly familiar sound,
of
music to your ears.

moving like in an immensely,
active native conga,
while flitting eiree,
ghosts of glaciers perform,
when fueled folklore beckon,
swirling magic colors
in a perfect moving storm
these beauties from frozen skies,
spraying snow & tossing sparks,
as their created stars,
saturate the deep,
as their tears are shed,
in big butterfly kisses,

playfully floating,
in lovely little fine wisps,
of cirrus smudges of pure refractions,
bending in rarified veils of light,
into a seamless,
shimmering skyscape.

A hiding crystal clear,
deep Alice blue sky,
now fading,
as colors are now blending,
from azure into darkest denim,
then turning periwinkle,
stretching out,
into auroral archways,
dusted in a tangerine glow
in transitioning brushstrokes,
gently cover impressionistic sketches,
evolving into luminism,
on an endless open canvas.

As I paint the words,
where I sit there quietly,
respectfully awaiting answers,
as clouds and moonlight smear,
into watercolor scenery,
using up each angel tear
an intimate engagement occurs,
the passion of nature,
is sublime,
just perfectly,
these synchronized sky swimmers ,
becoming one

As a stormy sun is forcing,
red light dancers,
holding torches,
colliding and becoming excited,
edging themselves,
these powerful ominous portents,
becoming the framework.

Around a fantastic fluorescent show,
the cast wearing blushing pink,
and wild viola purples,
tinged in chartreuse green,
basking in beauty,
where hope lies,
in these colors I've never ever seen, since,
transcending skies of tomorrow,
into an age old masterpiece,
waiting patiently for this,
spiritual journey,
to begin,
with an eager & beautiful,
dawn coming.

Where the North winds,
send a brilliant light show,
of atomic wonders,
in watery pirouettes,
of shaped effects,
& teardrops sacrificed,
swirl in spirits of harmony,
completely memorizing,
I am transfixed,
an astonishing feat,
of brilliant pigments,
smudged into,
the mysterious lightness,
my drifters heart wanders,
melded into atmospheric colors,
we can only wish to see in this lifetime.

Where life seeds now
glide,
on the giving winds,
and Eagles and hawks can,
applaud this much beauty way up there.

This place,
a heavenly firmament,
where all the sacred souls come to die,
  where all the very, very, wise end up,
where they all spend their eternal lives,
young and old alike,
eventually they all retire here,
bringing us hope or warnings,
a chance at redemption,
striking hot iron in a glow,
metallic bits,
stars form,
restless,

Sighing, awaiting,
  a gifted chance to share with us,
along with all the parished,
souls and spirits,
playfully transforming,
from native garb,
mocassin covered feet,
change into favorite animals,
stomping on the colorful floor,
a great bear,
a wolf,
a beluga whale,
a soaring raptor,
not wanting for anything,
walking in Native American circles,
to the sounds of long silent drums,
morphing & shape shifting,

Again,
and again,
and again,
where rain shadows dance,
in ancient skies,
celestial bodies are illuminated,
reflecting the fire circles,
from where distant oceans shore,
take me there...ancestors
take me there once more,

As night slowly declines,
as daylight seeps through cracks,
bleeding into tomorrow,
to fly again to share what they must,
they pray and worship their God,
and they trust..

And Aurora Borealis is her name.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Listen to Time to turn the tide by Millpond Moon  global warming is affecting this gift....writing this made me cry ....for our sacred Earth.  This is a meaningful piece I had to dig deep in old studies and in my beliefs this was BREATHTAKINGLY beautiful Aurora Borealis a few years ago. This is about stars, this place- Vermont, Heaven, angels and death or coming omens. Peace - Vermont
(I watched my video again in astonishment.)
I hope you all are well n happy. I'm OK....
RAJ NANDY Jun 2017
Dear Poet Friends, this poem was composed as a tribute and praise
to the Creator of heaven and earth way back in the year 2008, & was posted on ‘Poemhunter.com’. The Creator’s handiwork has inspired Poets, Artists, and Humans alike since the dawn of our
civilisation, and shall continue to do so for our future generations! Hope you like this poetic composition. I will be grateful if you comment only after having read the entire poem.  Thanks, - Raj

VISIONS OF THE VAST BLUE EMPYREAN
                * BY RAJ NANDY*

       '’The heavens declare the glory of the Lord,
        The sky proclaim His divine handiwork!’’
                                                   - Psalm of David.

(I)
The SKY is a multidimensional manifestation of God's
creation,
A translucent blue canopy above all and one.
The sky has inspired humans for centuries to aspire
and dream, -
To seek His blessings and guidance from above;
And shall continue to do so for centuries to come!
The sky beckons and lures with its mystical spell;
Making humans with leaping aspirations to try out
and reach, -
Those frontiers where the sky is the unlimited limit of
all our hopes, aspirations and dreams!
The sky, lush, luring, luminous, and sweet, -
Invites, entice, and fills us with a sense of wonder!
How God-like in appearance, and almost human in
its expressions!
The sky has remained as a silent witness to the birth
of our planet,
Since God created the firmament and the heavens,
before creating the Earth.
The sky, a silent spectator since eons past,
Shall continue to see the fading away of old stars;
And formation of baby galaxies in a cosmic drama of
His creation,
Lying beyond the comprehension of Mankind!
While we try to delve His secrets with our space probes,
Which we can neither fully comprehend nor unravel;
And shall only continue to wonder and marvel!

(II)
The blue sky continues to inspire and even melts,
While its blue translucence silently seep into the
Poet's heart,
As he sits to reflect and shape his thoughts,
And the vast expanse of the ethereal sky,
Stretching his mind with future dreams and
visions!
While the azure blue begins to flow through his
veins, and gets transmitted through his pen, -
To convey his exalted thoughts and deepest feelings,
in poetic lines and verse, -
Which becomes the Poet's sole mission.
And at night when the Poet meditates, he catches a
falling star,
And writes a poem on it and keeps it in his pocket, -
Saving it for a rainy day!
And during the silence of the night, when the hours
grow dark and deep,
And the sky gently droops and drips;
The poet wakes up to write, and writes to sleep!

(III)
The sky flows on to the canvas of the Painter,
As he tries to depict its varied complexions and moods,
With his limited colours, shades and hues,
Flashing and spilling his canvas with touches of tints
and tones,
To captivate the capricious, transient and fanciful moods,
which the sky adorns!
The deep blue empyrean is at times blissful and sublime,
Changing from a radiant, opulent, and iridescent, -
To threatening, cruel, and violent;
Both devastating and destructive as the sweeping
tornado or a hurricane!
Yet when God decides to paint the Aurora Borealis those
magical Northern Lights, -
Those glowing diaphanous curtains of waving, swirling
streamers of lights,
With its red, green, blue, violet, and luminescent spell-
binding shades;
How can any artist foolishly dare to compete or replicate
His celestial art?
For the Auroras are a reflection of His live real time
handiwork, -
Which shall never diminish or fade!

(IV)
The crystal blue arch of heaven, a glorious canopy
cover over our head,
Blesses us with the much needed shade;
From the tormenting and scorching rays of the
relentless Summer's sun.
With its varying layers of passing clouds, -
As the sun completes its diurnal rounds!
Those high cheerful cirrus and cirro-stratus clouds
of the Winter sky,
The meditating alto-cumulus and alto-stratus clouds
of medium heights;
And those upward swelling, ambitious clouds of
cumulonimbus, -
Carrying the thunder bolts and lightning of the great
Zeus do confound us!
And finally those low sheets of stratus clouds of the
rumbling monsoon sky;
Bringing incessant rain and lightning darts, -
Flashing like a whip lash across the sky and the earth!
With the speed of sound always lagging behind that
of light, -
Thus thunder bolts always follow those blinding flashing
darts of dazzling blue lights!
While the good Earth absorbs it all like some suffering
soul,
And forever regenerates itself to transcend its
tormenting plight!

(V)
The clouds floating like fluffy wool of cotton and
the downs of white goose feathers,
Adds dimensions, visual depth, definition and a sense
of perception;
For the human mind to behold and meditate, -
Those vast measureless depths of the infinite space!
The clouds with its varying forms and shapes,
At times like the ice cream cones with vanilla
tops and wisps of cream;
Keep floating across the cerulean blue, forming
and melting, -
From one nothingness into another,  below the
arched vault of the heavens!
And at times the clouds coalesce to dissipate as
gentle rain,
With rhythmic beats, or follow some wild musical note,
Lashing against the earth like a dancer in trance!
While it brings down the cool aqua, the very elixir of
life to earth.

(VI)
The sky is held captive by its own void of eternal
silence.
As nature's mirror, it reflects and also shows us a
glimpse of the infinite!
While the night sky by itself exhibits a wondrous
sight,
With the sentinel stars shining like a living hymn
written in light!
And the ebony treasure vault of heavens hold the
sparkling and glittering countless gems;
Of pearls of lily white, rubies with red sheen,
And galaxies shimmering like hyacinth of purple
light!
The sky envelopes the earth all around in an elusive
embrace of unconsummated love!
But each night, in hope and expectations the Sky
adorns itself, -
With diamond necklace and pearls of milky white,
Woven round its dark black flowing stresses;
Casting longing looks towards the beloved Earth,
To whom she is attracted from her very birth!

(VII)
The sky despite its wide range of colourful
spectrum and moods,
Forever retains its pristine colour of azure blue,
behind its gray and somber clouds.
Each morning the sky presents us with a clean
blue slate,
Where nothing ever remains written or etched!
Inspiring humans to make a new beginning,
Before time runs out and it becomes too late!
Yet the sky never forgets to reflect the arched
rainbow over its brow,
Once the thunder clouds and storms dissipate!
Keeping our hopes and aspirations forever alive;
And impelling us to strive in all our endeavours
and to excel!

(VIII)
The sky remains as a revelation of God's immaculate
handiwork.
The blue welkin, God's treasure trove, with its
capricious moods,
Sometimes furious, sometimes iridescent, but by nature
divinely sublime!
The sky a recurrence of happenings, with its speckled dance, -
Of colours, cadence, and of light and shade,
Giving us a taste, smell and feel of eternity, -
Which appears as real, though illusory and ephemeral!
Transcending all our scientific formulas, speculations
and intricate *******-up logic;
Since many mystical and unknown energy forms exist in
our sky and space,
Beyond the realms of Quantum Physics , String Theory,
the Higgs Field and Relativity!  * ( see Notes below)
And forces can even be made to emanate from the human
mind and soul and to transcend, -
To blend with those vibrations in the celestial spheres of
the Divine!

(IX)
The sky shall forever remain a source of exhilaration
and exhortation for mankind, -
And as an exaltation of God's divine and lofty thoughts!
The sky also remains as our ultimate frontier, -
Stretching the dimensions of human consciousness,
Till our consciousness learns to merge with the Divine;
To become one and to blend, under the blue vault of
our blissful Empyrean!
                                                       -  by RAJ NANDY, NEW DELHI

(*NOTES: The five different versions of the String Theories know as the 'The M- Theory' of Quantum Physics, which tries to explain the origin of all things through the vibrations of nano strings. The latest discovery of the Higgs Field, which is said to add mass to subatomic particles; are our humble and insufficient efforts to understand God’s mysterious creation of the universe and space!)
      (ALL COPY RIGHT ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY)
I came to liberate lions from dungeons
I came to share and not stare at you
I came to actualize powers within me
I intend to distribute resources equally
I came to reiterate that all beings are beautiful
I came to make an impact like mountains do
I came to create music with my attitude
I intend that symphonies surround me with their melodies
I intend that children feel safe to open up to me
I came to empower dancers in perpetual motion
I intend to be a witness to the miracles of life’s radiance
I came to scream love songs into forests
I came to hear my own voice echoed by hollow caverns
I intend to create portals that we can travel through
I came to bring back the aurora borealis at all latitudes
Jonny Angel Dec 2013
O why
be so sad,
so downtrodden,
feel so depressed,
like you've fallen?

It could definitely be a lot worse,
the hearse could be heading your way,
I hope not......well......

Certainly I do confess, things aren't perfect,
but who said they would be?
Like, we've got the world by the *****,
we need to take it by storm,
shut this computer down,
bundle up,
go outside to play,
take a hike,
count our lucky stars.

Let's do it tonight!

You might just
catch the Borealis
as a bonus.

That should make you happy!
Crow Jun 2023
I want to see the northern lights
but I cannot say why

it is said that sometimes
if conditions are right
you can see them from here

but it never seems to work
for me

even if the sky is clear
I cannot see them
when I am told I might

others say they have seen them here
I don’t think I believe them

some set a camera
on very long exposure
to take their picture

I can’t stare at the sky
for a very long time
all at once
like a camera

maybe I want to see them
because I haven’t seen them before

there are other things I want to see
but never have

like the life I was meant to have
with you

maybe if I’d had
a better camera
Stranger Blue Sep 2016
To taste the bittersweet nectar of thy lunar lips.
Lie me hope, sing to me the song of the helix.
Proffer me the chance to breach thy bastion,
encompass thee in my love and compassion.
Sanction me to be that one whispering love stories
in thine ear while bathing in the Aurora Borealis
dazzling and clear.
You and I, a rickety tent and a love nothing less of
heaven sent.
In mine heart thou shalt forever remain.
My panzer maid grant me...the fall of rain.
Sayali Jadhav Nov 2018
Up at the poles,
towards the north of the north,
in those magical skies,
exists a Goddess called Aurora Borealis.

Full of her vivid electromagnetic charm,
and her luminous green path of pure sheer light,
appeared in my dreams and whispered in my ears,
"Why don't you join me here for a night?"

I said I wish I could but I have a responsibility to bear,
She replied, " C'mon now sweet girl, your job is right here.
Channel your energy through me and I will give you everything you desire."

I agreed to her and closed my eyes,
of course, how would I repudiate the Goddess of Dawn and Ice?
Lifting my head in surprise,
following her line of sight,
far off the velvety night.

She came close to me and whispered, " But what is it that you no longer fear?"
I opened my eyes in surprise to only watch her disappear,
and that is when I realized,
it's time to dream higher than the Ionosphere.
Jake Welsh Nov 2019
the blue glow of the television screen
mimicked the moonlight through the car window
where sat, Kate and i, in silence, watching
after a day gone that began with my name and hers

continued on until her slumber
whilst a lunar halo around me kept me walking in the night

the Georgian oak canopy hangs around like aurora borealis
i’ve never noticed it before
from "salve" 2019
available @: https://www.etsy.com/shop/leafandplume
Ronni MH Jul 2018
I stopped when I saw colour
splashing on his face,
and I turned my gaze
up at the night sky
to the aurora borealis
shimmering above us.
Vibrant blue shifting
to brilliant violet light
illuminated the
ether in winding arcs.
Stars glimmered
like diamonds in the
indigo sky as pulsating
hues washed across the
night sky in luscious waves.
“It’s amazing”, I whispered.
I stared up in awe at the
dazzling colours dancing
across the clear night sky.
Ty Katsarelis Jun 2019
Green and purple with a blueish hue
Choreography of color, colors you
Aurora Borealis
Everyone who sees you falls in love
I'm just one of thousands looking up
staring at the night sky,
stars are visible, twinkling so bright
and suddenly, an epiphany hits your mind
the universe is infinite
it makes us small but,
we have the brightest light.
inspired by the song Aurora Borealis by Bohnes
Clem C Mar 2015
the sky danced green with envy, to the warm glow from the cottage
still half buried under snow
voices sing and a line goes through the heart of each note,
call it perfections song, to the sky
eyes see through all obstacles in the way to get to a place,
call it a sense of direction, on the earth
heart beating as you lay waking from the dead of night,
call it you are alive,                               flesh
and for a change you are not alone,  to flesh
music playing on the your iPod, in the dock in the living room
you left on all night, as you two took everything off to go to,
it wasn't bed,
the music was wrong,
but all else was oh so right, on a cold and frozen night,
at least one heart was thawed,
and one voice hit perfect pitch,
funny you don't remember that part, being in any of those songs
A Tale

“Of Brownyis and of Bogilis full is this Buke.”
                              —Gawin Douglas.

When chapman billies leave the street,
And drouthy neebors neebors meet,
As market-days are wearing late,
An’ folk begin to tak’ the gate;
While we sit bousing at the *****,
An’ getting fou and unco happy,
We think na on the lang Scots miles,
The mosses, waters, slaps, and stiles,
That lie between us and our hame,
Whare sits our sulky, sullen dame,
Gathering her brows like gathering storm,
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.

This truth fand honest Tam o’Shanter,
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter,
(Auld Ayr, wham ne’er a town surpasses,
For honest men and bonie lasses).

O Tam! hadst thou but been sae wise,
As ta’en thy ain wife Kate’s advice!
She tauld thee weel thou was a skellum,
A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum,
That frae November till October,
Ae market-day thou was nae sober;
That ilka melder, wi’ the miller,
Thou sat as lang as thou had siller;
That ev’ry naig was ca’d a shoe on,
The smith and thee gat roarin fou on;
That at the Lord’s house, ev’n on Sunday,
Thou drank wi’ Kirkton Jean till Monday.
She prophesied that, late or soon,
Thou would be found deep drowned in Doon;
Or catched wi’ warlocks in the mirk,
By Alloway’s auld haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me greet,
To think how mony counsels sweet,
How mony lengthened sage advices,
The husband frae the wife despises!

But to our tale: Ae market-night,
Tam had got planted unco right;
Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Wi’ reaming swats, that drank divinely;
And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,
His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony;
Tam lo’ed him like a vera brither;
They had been fou for weeks thegither.
The night drave on wi’ sangs an’ clatter;
And aye the ale was growing better:
The landlady and Tam grew gracious,
Wi’ favours, secret, sweet, and precious:
The Souter tauld his queerest stories;
The landlord’s laugh was ready chorus:
The storm without might rair and rustle,
Tam did na mind the storm a whistle.

Care, mad to see a man sae happy,
E’en drowned himself amang the *****;
As bees flee hame wi’ lades o’ treasure,
The minutes winged their way wi’ pleasure:
Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious,
O’er a’ the ills o’ life victorious!

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white—then melts for ever;
Or like the borealis race,
That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow’s lovely form
Evanishing amid the storm.—
Nae man can tether time or tide;
The hour approaches Tam maun ride;
That hour, o’ night’s black arch the key-stane,
That dreary hour he mounts his beast in;
And sic a night he tak’s the road in,
As ne’er poor sinner was abroad in.

The wind blew as ‘twad blawn its last;
The rattling showers rose on the blast;
The speedy gleams the darkness swallowed;
Loud, deep, and lang the thunder bellowed:
That night, a child might understand,
The De’il had business on his hand.

Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg,
A better never lifted leg,
Tam skelpit on thro’ dub and mire,
Despising wind, and rain, and fire;
Whiles holding fast his gude blue bonnet;
Whiles crooning o’er some auld Scots sonnet;
Whiles glow’rin round wi’ prudent cares,
Lest bogles catch him unawares;
Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh,
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry.

By this time he was cross the ford,
Whare in the snaw the chapman smoored;
And past the birks and meikle stane,
Whare drunken Charlie brak’s neck-bane;
And thro’ the whins, and by the cairn,
Whare hunters fand the murdered bairn;
And near the thorn, aboon the well,
Whare Mungo’s mither hanged hersel’.
Before him Doon pours all his floods;
The doubling storm roars thro’ the woods;
The lightnings flash from pole to pole;
Near and more near the thunders roll;
When, glimmering thro’ the groaning trees,
Kirk-Alloway seemed in a bleeze;
Thro’ ilka bore the beams were glancing;
And loud resounded mirth and dancing.

Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!
What dangers thou canst mak’ us scorn!
Wi’ tippenny, we fear nae evil;
Wi’ usquabae, we’ll face the devil!
The swats sae reamed in Tammie’s noddle,
Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle.
But Maggie stood right sair astonished,
Till, by the heel and hand admonished,
She ventured forward on the light;
And, wow! Tam saw an unco sight!
Warlocks and witches in a dance;
Nae cotillion, brent new frae France,
But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
Put life and mettle in their heels.
A winnock-bunker in the east,
There sat auld Nick, in shape o’ beast;
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gie them music was his charge:
He ******* the pipes and gart them skirl,
Till roof and rafters a’ did dirl.—
Coffins stood round, like open presses,
That shawed the Dead in their last dresses;
And by some devilish cantraip sleight
Each in its cauld hand held a light,
By which heroic Tam was able
To note upon the haly table,
A murderer’s banes in gibbet-airns;
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened bairns;
A thief, new-cutted frae a ****,
Wi’ his last gasp his gab did gape;
Five tomahawks, wi’ blude red-rusted;
Five scimitars, wi’ ****** crusted;
A garter, which a babe had strangled;
A knife, a father’s throat had mangled,
Whom his ain son o’ life bereft,
The grey hairs yet stack to the heft;
Wi’ mair of horrible and awfu’,
Which even to name *** be unlawfu’.

As Tammie glowered, amazed and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious:
The Piper loud and louder blew;
The dancers quick and quicker flew;
They reeled, they set, they crossed, they cleekit,
Till ilka carlin swat and reekit,
And coost her duddies to the wark,
And linket at it in her sark!

Now Tam, O Tam! had they been queans,
A’ plump and strapping in their teens;
Their sarks, instead o’ creeshie flainen,
Been snaw-white seventeen hunder linen!—
Thir breeks o’ mine, my only pair,
That ance were plush, o’ gude blue hair,
I *** hae gi’en them off my hurdies,
For ae blink o’ the bonie burdies!

But withered beldams, auld and droll,
Rigwoodie hags *** spean a foal,
Lowping and flinging on a crummock,
I wonder didna turn thy stomach.

But Tam kenned what was what fu’ brawlie:
‘There was ae winsome ***** and waulie’,
That night enlisted in the core
(Lang after kenned on Carrick shore;
For mony a beast to dead she shot,
And perished mony a bonie boat,
And shook baith meikle corn and bear,
And kept the country-side in fear);
Her cutty sark, o’ Paisley harn,
That while a lassie she had worn,
In longitude tho’ sorely scanty,
It was her best, and she was vauntie.
Ah! little kenned thy reverend grannie,
That sark she coft for her wee Nannie,
Wi’ twa pund Scots (’twas a’ her riches),
*** ever graced a dance of witches!

But here my Muse her wing maun cour,
Sic flights are far beyond her power;
To sing how Nannie lap and flang,
(A souple jade she was and strang),
And how Tam stood, like ane bewitched,
And thought his very een enriched;
Even Satan glowered, and fidged fu’ fain,
And hotched and blew wi’ might and main:
Till first ae caper, syne anither,
Tam tint his reason a’ thegither,
And roars out, “Weel done, Cutty-sark!”
And in an instant all was dark:
And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
When out the hellish legion sallied.

As bees bizz out wi’ angry fyke,
When plundering herds assail their byke;
As open pussie’s mortal foes,
When, pop! she starts before their nose;
As eager runs the market-crowd,
When “Catch the thief!” resounds aloud;
So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
Wi’ mony an eldritch screech and hollow.

Ah, Tam! ah, Tam! thou’ll get thy fairin!
In hell they’ll roast thee like a herrin!
In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin!
Kate soon will be a woefu’ woman!
Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
And win the key-stane of the brig;
There at them thou thy tail may toss,
A running stream they dare na cross.
But ere the key-stane she could make,
The fient a tail she had to shake!
For Nannie, far before the rest,
Hard upon noble Maggie prest,
And flew at Tam wi’ furious ettle;
But little wist she Maggie’s mettle—
Ae spring brought off her master hale,
But left behind her ain grey tail:
The carlin claught her by the ****,
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump.

Now, wha this tale o’ truth shall read,
Ilk man and mother’s son, take heed:
Whene’er to drink you are inclined,
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind,
Think, ye may buy the joys o’er dear,
Remember Tam o’Shanter’s mare.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
The snow drifts were
       quite high, piling up into the
northern sky, burying
      towns and trees and the poor souls who
    had fallen asleep on the grass
and had awoken with shivers as snowflakes
left little kisses on their eyelids.
    Except that, it was never grass. There was never any grass to begin with. There was no grass
      or spring
             or sun
                  or summer
                            or birds.
There was only winter and snow.
And the blinding, white terrain had become both a place of         desolation and
        s a n c t u a r y.
The Aroura Borealis danced like a beautiful blue fire across the night sky. Stars blinked in and out of existence.
And somehow, the halls always remained.
The blue halls.  
             Imagine, if you will, the Colosseum cut into halves and shaped like an elbow macaroni.  Drop it out in the middle of an arctic wasteland and wash it in the blue glow of the northern, night sky.
A bright yellow light poured out of the windows and onto the snow, but no one was ever inside.
Some say it's the doorway to heaven.
Others say it's the gates of hell.
And then there are the strangers. Strangers who wear their lavender, silk headscarves and avoid the rumors of such an exquisite and eclectic piece of architecture.
Others like myself.
"If there is no one inside, then where is the music coming from?" He asked me, his blue eyes shining as blue as the heavenly hues against the midnight clouds.
" The halls will hum if the wind passes through them just so."
We listened to them once more. A low and ancient hum emanated from the structure. It was an old sound that resonated within me-unnerved me.
The mysterious blue halls were not a simple door to some glorious silver city or the passageway to a fiery lake.
      
The halls were the most beautiful and interesting instrument the universe has even known.
"It's the harmonica of the gods!"
Perhaps one of them
dropped it.
Perhaps it was a flaw in design.
Perhaps it was meant to be silent and with one teensy miscalculation, an entire orchestra of notes were born by the wind.
Perhaps it is telling me to tell you that you should look not towards all that makes you perfect, but the imperfections because that is where true beauty rests.
And you are so beautiful.  The kind of beauty that doesn't know it's own beauty. Like when you are sleeping, and the moon washes over your face. I like when you are sleeping, for you are so beautiful, yet so unaware.
This poem was based off of a dream I had years ago. It was written in 2016. You can find an image that looks similar to the structure in the poem here: https://www.lifeinitaly.com/tourism/rome/rome-for-free-ten-best-free-sightseeing-in-rome/
Tina ford Feb 2014
Nothing could explain this sight,
Overspills of different light,
Reaching out for miles around,
Transmitting light without a sound,
Heavy thoughts fill my mind,
Explanations I cannot find,
Rolling over the clear night sky,
Northern lights pass me by,
Languishing in this beauty alone,
Isolated and away from home,
Green and silent creeping by,
Hovering so lonely, I sit and sigh,
Thinking to myself what beautiful sights,
Sights I remember, oh northern lights.
XIII Jun 2015
I have seen colorful rainbows
And breath-taking sunsets
But I can't get enough of both
I can't get enough of nature

I would like to witness
Fireflies flying through the darkness
With their lights dancing around like in parties
Seeing it would really be great!

I'd love a show
Of falling white snow
Its cold touch on my skin
All I can do is to imagine!

But my biggest dream is
To see an Aurora Borealis
I'll permit even death
After I see this beauty

I grew up in a tropical city, you see
So nature became a mystery to me
They're like fairies asking for a chase
An exotic flavor I'd love to taste

But if the Shinigami comes to me first
Before I can check these off my wishlist
And if I can't bargain anymore
I'll calmly come with him and say, "Sure.."

"I have already enjoyed Aurora Borealis
In my lover's eyes long before
And I had several fireflies in my stomach,
Plus I have fallen for someone like a snow."


So no regrets
I'll check you all out in my next life
I'll leave to the living the rest
To take care of these wonders for the reincarnated
But seriously, I really wish to see these before I die.

*Shinigami - Death God
*Aurora Borealis - Northern Lights
Diane Nov 2015
Attachments have beckoning powers
Louder in a whisper than the memory of my words
They’ll exchange sleepy smiles in the morning light  
     Who am I to believe I can step into history
     Flutter my wings and change the outcome?
Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of Utopian plains,
An aura born of  visual brilliance like the aurora borealis
Is this the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls?
The intuitive life- forms worthy of sempiternal light?

Tyrant Ignoramus's army is multiplying,
And assembling more power,
Lascivious like an extreme *******.

Certainty of survival? No, there is not,
Nervous like claustrophobic Nibbana.
Life-forces forced to test
The stability of the precipice.
Can balance be maintained?
Only for so long....

Loping for miles,
Exhausting it must be,
Their hooves must go on and on,
Heedless of stopping.

Past Ignoramus's Fortress,
Past the Alchemist's Bridge over yonder,
Light-years north of the purple, zephyr dome.
The saccharine amulet is like euphoria
Buried below the wet soil of the Utopian plains,
An aura born of visual brilliance like the aurora borealis.
This is the homely orphanage for poetic spirits and souls,
The intuitive life-forms worthy of sempiternal light.

Originally written 7/30/11
Revised 10/17/14

(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
My aurora borealis,
My green eyes,
That were never mine.
Shining bright,
As we both align.

In the stars,
Where our names must be written.
Because with your presence,
I've been suddenly smitten.

Gasping for air,
Your oxygen i breathe.
But holding on a thread,
When the floor dissapears,
Underneath my feet.

But my aurora borealis,
To me you'll always shine.
My only religion,
The only one divine.

Your light,
Could light up the north pole,
Maybe even heaven's skies aswell.
But they'll be blinded,
By the brightness i can tell.

But oh,
My aurora borealis,
To me you still shine.
I just wish you didn't for everyone,
And you'll be forever mine.

-anoeska
Jorge Guerrero Nov 2012
h your body you caught my attention; I turned my sight towards your direction. With your eyes you mesmerized me; my stare was locked those mystical orbs. Your voice fell so sweetly upon my ears, and lost within your words I became. You walked me out of the shadows which my heart was lost within, and open my soul to the possibility of a new treasure. A feeling that has been so long ago lost it has been forgotten. Now I feel this new sensation and wonder, as if I was a child experiencing my first kiss. In one moment you entered my life, and in another you changed it. Yet I find myself luckily unlucky. I am lucky enough to know better, and unlucky enough to have found someone so wonderful; and still know better. For I know that you will never be mine, nor would I be able to capture your attention long enough to obtain your heart. Yet you have shown me that I could still feel, that passion can still come forth from within me. I’ve searched within you, maybe deeper than you would have wanted. I’ve looked passed the pain, and discover the wonders that could take my breath. Your drive pushes me to be more, when I don’t need more. Your smile raises my spirits, and even more so when I know I’m the cause. To listen to your words, sparks my imagination to the wonders of your life. I could love you; deeper than any ocean. Simply because I find you more enchanting than the stars on a perfectly dark night, and more alluring than Aurora Borealis (the northern light). Still I must hold myself from loving you, because your plans and fear keep you from holding me closer.
JA Doetsch Feb 2012
We will walk through the Cherry blossoms
in Japan, hand in hand, meandering through
the falling petals.  Our winding path
will weave through the countryside  with
no goal in sight.  We will stop in front of a
particularly beautiful tree, whose branches
are just beginning to look naked.

I will look at you, brush a stray blossom
from your hair...and whisper

           Aishiteru
               .                                                                ­                   
                   .                                                                ­                
                     .   .                                                                ­            
                               .                                                                ­          
                                     .                                                                ­        
                             We trek the Arctic circle and witness
                             the absolute beauty of the Aurora Borealis.                       
                             We're be bundled tightly in our parkas,                                     
                    ­         but we are still be able to feel eachother's                                   
                  ­           warmth.  We laugh as we throw snowballs.
                             We lie in the snow and make angels.                                          
               ­              Well...they'll start out as angels, but in the                                 
                            ­ end, they'll just look like snow that two people                          
                             have just rolled around in.                                                  
           ­                                                                 ­                      
                                              We can't help it.  As we embrace,                             
                           ­                   I whisper
                                                     Negligevapse                                                    
­                                                         .                                          
                     ­                                     .                           ­             
                                                          .     ­                                   
                                                         .                                          
                     ­                                   .                             ­             
                                                     .                                            
                   ­                              .                                                  
             ­                              .                                                        
       ­                                                                 ­                          
         We stroll the beaches of Hawaii, refreshing ocean                                    
         breezes cool us.  I picked you a flower,
         which you now wear in your hair.  Your cinnamon                               
         brown skin offsets your beautiful white smile.                                       
         We run through the breaking waves, our feet                                                
         leaving ephemeral indentations that are as                                             
         fleeting as our cares.  We fall over into                                                     
       ­  the surf and let the ocean wash over us.                                                     
        ­                                                                 ­                         
              I kiss your nose and tell you                                                          
   ­                   Aloha wau ia oi                                                               ­             
                              .                    ­                                                
                ­                  .                                      In China, we race eachother along   
                                     .                               .   the Great Wall to see who can get 
                                        .                   ­        .    to the end first.  We both end up   
                                           .                     .       dragging eachother across the         
                                             .               .           finish line...which happens to be      
                                                 .   .   .               a few hundred feet away.          
                                                 ­                        The locals shake their                
                                           ­                              heads disaprovingly, as we stifle      
                                                    ­                     a giggle.  I lean in and remind you  
                                                           ­                                       
                         ­                                                   Wo ai ni..                    
                                                             .  .                      .            
                         ­                                 .       .                     .          
                                                       .            .                   .          
                                                     .               .                 .            
                                                   .                  .   .   .   .  .            
                                                 .                                                
               ­                In Soviet Russia, girl kiss you                                              
               ­                and I gladly let her, for she                                               
              ­                 and I have had one too many shots                                 
                          ­     of *****.  Our faces are rosy and                                       
                      ­         we lean into each other as our feet                                     
                       ­        make hard noises on the cobblestone                                       
              ­                 streets.  Saint Basil's Cathedral                                          
             ­                  looms over us, as our lips dance                                           
                ­               a familiar dance.                                                           ­       
                                                                ­                                  
                              ­            Ya tebya liubliu                                                        
 ­                                                .                                                
                                                 .                                                
            .  .  .  .                          .               ­                                   
         .             .                      .                                         ­           
       .                .                   .                                                      
      .                    .  .  .  .  .  .                                                 ­       
    .                                                           ­                                   
We gaze at the Taj Mahal, a building                                                         ­   
built for a man's true love. I would                                                            ­      
build you a city.  we take in the                                                              ­          
mighty majesty of Everest.  I tell                                                             ­                
you I'd climb it for you.  You tell                                                             ­              
me to stop being silly, and say
you'd get bored waiting for me.
I give you a back rub instead.                                            

  Hum Tumhe Pyar Karte hae 
                                                            ­             We travel the dutch  countryside
                                              ­                            and kick off our wooden shoes to
                   .                                          ­            watch the tulips blooming.
                       .                                            .     I dedicate an entire field to you.
                          .                                 ­    .         You blush.
                              .                           ­   .         we fall asleep in front of a windmill,
                                 .     .                  .          watching the shapes of the clouds pass
                                         .      .      .             over us. I whisper in your ear
                                                             ­                                                                 ­      
                                                                ­       Ik hou van jou
                                                             ­             .                        
                                                                ­         .                          
                                     ­                                  .                            
                                   ­                                  .                              
                                 ­                                  .                                
                               ­                                  .                                  
                             ­            .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .                                           ­ 
    France has never been as beautiful as                                                               ­   
    it is now that you're here.  We skirt                                                            ­         
    the cities and explore the countryside,                                                     ­           
    Endless fields and clear skies bring                                                            ­     
    out our inner children, and spend the day
    romping and rolling until our clothes                                                          ­  
    are stained and our muscles ache.  I                                                         ­             
    lay beside you, panting.  In between                                                          ­       
    breaths, I manage to impart                                                           ­                
                                                ­                                                            
    ­                                                                 ­                                       
               Je t'aime                                                           ­                                 
                   .                                                                ­                        
                    .                                           ­                                             
                   ­   .                                                             ­                         
                        .              ­                                                                 ­     
                          .  .  .    .    .       .          .                                                    
                                                                ­                                            
                    ­                                            We explore Roman ruins and concoct      
                                                   ­             our own love story had we been born      
                                                      ­          in the Ancient city.  I would have        
                                                    ­            been a mighty General, who saved      
                                                     ­           you from a terrible dicator.  You            
                                       ­                         tell me to stop quoting Gladiator.       
                                               ­                 We share a kiss under the shadow           
                                               ­                 of the colleseum.  I brush your         
                                                   ­             hair from your face...                       
                                  ­                                                                 ­       
                                                         ­                  Ti Amo                              
                                                                ­               .                          
                                                                ­                                          
                      ­                                                        .        ­                    
                                            ­                                                              
  ­                                                                 ­        .                              
                                                                ­                                          
                      ­                                                                 ­                   
                                             ­                           .                                  
  ­                                                                 ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­                
                                                ­                    .                                      
     ­                                                                 ­                                    
                            ­                           You smile and reply                                   
                        ­                                                                 ­                 
                                               ­             I love you, too
Feeling hopelessly romantic today.
Keith Mitchell Oct 2018
Zeus and Amphitrite
edge of the sea
reflecting down
looking up
god or goddess
reflecting the same
draped in gold
Hercules Coronal Borealis Great Wall
superstructure feathered on the shoulders
skyward brilliance reflecting
shaking future stars
comets meteors meteoroids asteroids meteorites
rain down around
deafening sound of the greatest thunder bolt
hear me
hear her
**** this
**** that
roll good times
patience is virtue
zero point
generosity kindness affection pleasantness
waiting on the ecliptic plane
sun and heavens
where
hummingbirds dragonflies soaring creatures
rise out of the abyss
propelled and lifted
seahorse air bubbles octopuses chant
straight ******* propulsion ****** velocity
magic of the darkness
ready set giddy up
Jack Jenkins Feb 2017
I believed I was immune, invincible;
  to the scorching heat of your surface.
  That I wouldn't be burned up or
  consumed by the fires you stoke.

I was not strong enough to endure
  and turned to crystallized glass
  and fell into your atmosphere,
  shattering into sparkles of dust.

I fell apart in your atmosphere,
  shattered like a comet across
  the scorched plains of your
  heart and soul.

& in the darkness of your being
  I look up to your skies and I
  see your Aurora Borealis &
  I know everything is okay...
//On her//
To be wounded by love is the sweetest pain I have ever known...
Ottar Jul 2013
R A K
random acts of kindness,
good part of human(s)character
reaching out on display,
random acts in coffee shops,
random acts in a drive through,
random acts at Christmas,
random acts at the gas pump, lol
okay cheerleaders step to the back
                 we are done with you.

What
is it called,
when a thief,
a perp, a vandal,
takes advantage of
a naive traveler, and in a moment,
          unravel, a charitable plan,
           a belonging, longing to
              be with ITS rightful owner,
                maybe a special chair or bike,
                  that was only meant for one person
                    of challenge for change.

Strange?
Anyone find it strange,
that someone would steal and burn another's belongings (Saskatchewan)
slash some young men's vehicle tires and etch an autograph their van (Winnipeg)
"Have a good trip home boys"
I won't list the remainder, other to say I have done my research and there
isn't a province or state or territory, where this is not in the news...

Yes some others step up from time to time and replace all the goods,
but you can't replace the scar on the memory, gestures do help with healing ( I hope )
but you can't replace the a hard drive beyond use, with third degrees burns,
beyond nerve deep.

Yes others show their heart and make it right, Thank you,
I wish, I pray against the spirit of dismay from
these other random acts of spite, random acts of cowardice, random acts of violence,
random acts of greed, one or more Disgusting Excrement of Evil Doers , (DEED)
like stealing a purse from a senior citizen who survived the war,
to die in a fall when pushed hard by a snatcher of purses and lives.

Lip service by local authorities, "be aware of your surroundings", too true
Crimes of opportunity, and anonymously, an idiot gains immunity,
but what to do:
being indignant does not help but keep reading,
maybe just(ice) maybe send them all North, building survival cairns
and airfields across the tundra and there they
might discover the spirit of wonder
of human kind(ness), through random acts;
(like horseflies, mosquitoes, wolves, polar bears, Cariboo in mating season,
swamps that suddenly appear and then they disappear, there are more, but what a bore)
they will have memories of Aura Borealis
                                           with out malice.
they may see the herds and appreciate,
                      wildlife in its natural state.
they may or may not make it home, either way
      they will be able to write a poem.
Or write a better rant about thorns from Devil's Club
and pus.  Or now know the hardship they did cause
                                                           ­      stop to pause, and
do a random act of kindness to make up for another's loss.

From the heart.


©DWE062013
Sigh...
Heat must be getting to me...
Erian Rose Nov 2020
It was his sunset-painted heart,
dulcet-washed eyes, and
his contagious laughter that
makes my mornings
and anxiety-filtered moments
spark little fires
deep inside.
lea Oct 2014
Brazen rusted iron-scent of blood–
there, before him, a river of crimson and failed dreams.
No boat, no oars.
Just plain chivalry and bravery and yesteryears’ scars
that manifest all throughout and within him.

He dips his feet.

There were scattered skeletons
and crunched broken bones
basking under the dunes of the night.
There were ghosts clinging
unto his own ghosts;
creatures against creatures.
The tip of their swords
sinking down to his own tired flesh
in attempt to find refuge
in the treacherous wings of the forests.

He swims along.

And his shoulders were battered
and his mare was tainted–
with dirt and dust and ashes of the enemies;
with memories and silhouettes buried
sent flying along the caresses
of the north winds.

He gasps for air, and stills himself under the ebbs.

Under many moons and scarcity of life–
Scarcity of Life–
the recurring sight of the gaseous light
and the inconsistency of the breath-intervals,
he remains still and proud.
His soles burnt with pain and interminable suffering
as it crossed the stretches of the savanna.
This is his life,
dwelling on the dawn borealis
and stained with apparitions of the past
and demons and absurdity.

*He has crossed the river.
John Silence Sep 2016
From my balcony I can smell the change of seasons
wood smoke and salt and damp leaves,
long-sleeve shirts stale from the bottom drawer
and clouds bunched like sailors to the west
promising whisky and a hornpipe.

who will mourn the hot sun’s scent on plastic
the pallor of long afternoons
bored blind and dull as paint
spattered on old shoes
beside the door

leading to the courtyard
built to watch summers with disinterest
and clay tiles, the perpetual chat
of water in basins with wind in branches
plump with crows.

light the candle from punk
left over from July Fourth,
unstop the bottle of strong water
then scent your neck with the old apples of it
the wise apples and the flat ones

and the pears of autumn red as a nun’s wimple
soft as wet hay
sweet as a kiss in the shade of fruit trees
the sun arching into evening
the insects silent and dead

and your hand
with its long fate and short, tight girdle
its quick Mercury
resting upon mine
as if to say:  here is the work of winter.
dan d Jan 2017
Wrested out of mind
I lose something of myself
when my eyes open

The flesh I inhabit
the universe I touch
they're all made of dreams
embodied possibilities
organic machinery
built by light herself
that feverish dreamer
even dreamt herself
She sees perfection when her eyes close
She makes it so

Void summoned to form by the dreamer's dream
Dancers through darkness
these mere spirits, luminous yet empty,
forget where they've been,
carried upon the subtle wind to this very moment

Wrested out of mind
I lose something of myself
when my eyes open

The flesh I inhabit
the universe I touch
they're all made of dreams
Unearthly dreams
Kara Troglin Oct 2012
Twenty-three years now and the same sun rises
along the rim of a big blue sky with layered clouds.
A myriad of kaleidoscopic colors leaks through
surrounding me with nostalgic warmth.
Remembering everything that brought me here.

That sticky, unbearable Texas heat
whirling in the wind of a summer afternoon.
Sleeveless dress, sunburnt skin, watermelon smile.
Five years of beauty growing into a thin young girl
who wanted to learn about everything,
Shifting into the youth of an actress in an over-the-top
melodramatic performance at a local theatre.
Selling art and collecting coins to travel
across our globe, and then,
my first plane ticket to Vietnam.

Nineteen came dressed in bittersweet wanderlust.
Packed my bags and drove my car to Portland, Oregon.
Four cameras, disheveled notebooks, ink-stained hands.
Those tall forest trees of enchantment,
a photographer's dream.
Traveling down the west coast to desert lands:
Seattle, San Francisco, Santa Fe.

Somewhere in there I ended up sleeping beneath the stars
with a belly full of wine in Alaska.
The summer solstice singing me a song while tears brim up my eyes
because the world has never looked more lovely.
Aurora borealis shimmering her lights above
a reflecting ocean of pastel
Reds and golds, blues and pinks.

A lucky lady who has touched corners
of love and sadness and wonder.
Burned imprints of goodbyes
in the crevices of my mind, but this is who I am.
Living and breathing in this extravagance.

— The End —