"reykjavik" poems - Hello Poetry

On a New Year's Day in Reykjavik I stood at the very top of that old city, intending to visit the Cathedral there. All at once, there it was. And it was in charge. A gust of wind so strong that it grabbed and slid me, speeding across several metres of ice, only to slam, face first, into the broad chest of a resident British Embassy staffer. Genially, he smiled down and introduced himself with gentlemanly aplomb. No wonder they had an empire. At least for a while. Oh, that wind! Ever seen snow moving horizontally? Or felt a hole being drilled, in one ear, almost out the other? Deep in the ancient countryside, on the way to the sea, is a lonely valley, held captive by the power of a brutal Gigantic troll. There, this wind has its greatest rival. Even if you can't see them, just tell me you don't feel them... In Reykholt now, that bullying wind buffets a cozy house, but to no avail, for angels watch over a newborn baby girl. Her mother, just a girl when we first met, now sings tenderly to her own new daughter. Both are princesses of this beautiful island country. Finding kindness, that tough old wind has sent Halldora's lullaby across the open ocean, over wide blue skies, and onto this snowy prairie where I hear it and cradle it softly, and so gently, to my heart.

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Jan 10, 2016

Jan 10, 2016 at 7:10 PM UTC

FrancescaRegan

Song for the Icelandic Wind

On a New Year's Day in Reykjavik I stood at the very top of that old city, intending to visit the Cathedral there. All at once, there it was. And it was in charge. A gust of wind so strong that it grabbed and slid me, speeding across several metres of ice, only to slam, face first, into the broad chest of a resident British Embassy staffer. Genially, he smiled down and introduced himself with gentlemanly aplomb. No wonder they had an empire. At least for a while. Oh, that wind! Ever seen snow moving horizontally? Or felt a hole being drilled, in one ear, almost out the other? Deep in the ancient countryside, on the way to the sea, is a lonely valley, held captive by the power of a brutal Gigantic troll. There, this wind has its greatest rival. Even if you can't see them, just tell me you don't feel them... In Reykholt now, that bullying wind buffets a cozy house, but to no avail, for angels watch over a newborn baby girl. Her mother, just a girl when we first met, now sings tenderly to her own new daughter. Both are princesses of this beautiful island country. Finding kindness, that tough old wind has sent Halldora's lullaby across the open ocean, over wide blue skies, and onto this snowy prairie where I hear it and cradle it softly, and so gently, to my heart.

26

Three bright yellow stars on a little box of matches, in a kitchen in Reykjavik. When lit, they flare up with uncommon energy and brightness. This little box of matches is from Sweden, like your people. Having said it badly once, I want to tell you what you have taught me. How joy and strength, honesty and humor, create sanity. Goodness is a fragrance you exude, like soft brown bread. Green shoots of grass, and leaves, are brighter because you have told me about them. Once, sitting together in a park, a real-live bluebird settled onto a telephone wire in front of us. A metaphor paying a call, making a personal visit. You brought that bluebird to us. I know it. Because you are my beloved best friend, a Swedish form of light.

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Aug 15, 2015

Aug 15, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC

FrancescaRegan

A Swedish Form of Light

Three bright yellow stars on a little box of matches, in a kitchen in Reykjavik. When lit, they flare up with uncommon energy and brightness. This little box of matches is from Sweden, like your people. Having said it badly once, I want to tell you what you have taught me. How joy and strength, honesty and humor, create sanity. Goodness is a fragrance you exude, like soft brown bread. Green shoots of grass, and leaves, are brighter because you have told me about them. Once, sitting together in a park, a real-live bluebird settled onto a telephone wire in front of us. A metaphor paying a call, making a personal visit. You brought that bluebird to us. I know it. Because you are my beloved best friend, a Swedish form of light.

17

I'm a curdled mess a puddle of expired something waiting to be cleaned up it's funny when you look out the window of this bookstore you can't help but wish that the clouds could wrap around your finger in the same way they tie mountain tops together over the vast arctic sea cause after a while of gawking and awing you just end up staring at your own reflection

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Sep 28, 2010

Sep 28, 2010 at 12:28 PM UTC

rigaal

Mining Reykjavik

I'm a curdled mess a puddle of expired something waiting to be cleaned up it's funny when you look out the window of this bookstore you can't help but wish that the clouds could wrap around your finger in the same way they tie mountain tops together over the vast arctic sea cause after a while of gawking and awing you just end up staring at your own reflection

10

"Dreams are foreign and uncomfortable. The common dreamworld never quite mimics life in its truest form." I flew over snowy mountain peaks on my way to Amsterdam, dreaming of existing in my truest form. My layover in Reykjavik was only three hours long, & I was traveling alone. Three hours is just enough time to worry about getting lost & I pondered what it would be like to let go. My trip would take me to Amsterdam, then London. I would find myself in Amsterdam again by day 10. I chose to ignore the loneliness by drinking a pint of Belgian beer in a bar that was much too small and enveloped in tobacco smoke. On my way to the bathroom I spotted a cat prowling the floor like he was hunting for a bird. He was out of place, yet here he was in his truest form. Forever hunting for a bird that was nowhere to be found.

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Nov 11, 2017

Nov 11, 2017 at 6:29 PM UTC

joshua-hernandez

Truest Form

"Dreams are foreign and uncomfortable. The common dreamworld never quite mimics life in its truest form." I flew over snowy mountain peaks on my way to Amsterdam, dreaming of existing in my truest form. My layover in Reykjavik was only three hours long, & I was traveling alone. Three hours is just enough time to worry about getting lost & I pondered what it would be like to let go. My trip would take me to Amsterdam, then London. I would find myself in Amsterdam again by day 10. I chose to ignore the loneliness by drinking a pint of Belgian beer in a bar that was much too small and enveloped in tobacco smoke. On my way to the bathroom I spotted a cat prowling the floor like he was hunting for a bird. He was out of place, yet here he was in his truest form. Forever hunting for a bird that was nowhere to be found.

4

spectral nonsense last only a few centimeters. After eight long years we assemble again with those old costumes to play those old roles. To complete the revolution. But silly me, I always forget to discount the leap years..

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Jul 17, 2013

Jul 17, 2013 at 6:03 AM UTC

alex-george

Reykjavik

spectral nonsense last only a few centimeters. After eight long years we assemble again with those old costumes to play those old roles. To complete the revolution. But silly me, I always forget to discount the leap years..

10

I wonder if you still tell our story to other people. I wonder if you’re still up north with your new man and you'll say 'I knew a poet'. I wonder if he will be showing you pictures of the world, and you'll say ‘I knew a man who's seen Melbourne to Reykjavik.’ Sometimes I run into the people we used to know but they won't recognize me without you by my side. They will introduce themselves, and ask how you're doing and I'll say, ‘I don't know anymore.’

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Jul 3, 2019

Jul 3, 2019 at 7:24 AM UTC

mitch-prax

I Still Wonder

I wonder if you still tell our story to other people. I wonder if you’re still up north with your new man and you'll say 'I knew a poet'. I wonder if he will be showing you pictures of the world, and you'll say ‘I knew a man who's seen Melbourne to Reykjavik.’ Sometimes I run into the people we used to know but they won't recognize me without you by my side. They will introduce themselves, and ask how you're doing and I'll say, ‘I don't know anymore.’

15

Cold wars between our bodies If kisses from better dreams kept us waiting Only the dim armistice we signed (unconsciously) divides us -cj

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Jul 19, 2014

Jul 19, 2014 at 1:24 AM UTC

smallhandsxx

reykjavik

Cold wars between our bodies If kisses from better dreams kept us waiting Only the dim armistice we signed (unconsciously) divides us -cj

7