Tag: #bohemian#poetry#healing#selfdiscovery#nature

Moon Child

“…awaiting ecliptic emergence
in muted light slowly gathering strength to emerge powerful…”

Kjirsti S.Nicolaysen1 Comment



traversing trepeditiously on wiley brambled hill steep
in ancient deep rooted canyon
with muddy boot abandon
she climbs high among trees’ canopy shadows settling in for the evening
as cool lingering tulle fog tickles heels far from complacency
taunting impending sporadic rain
oblivious to any craggy obstacles
that may challenge her way

above canopy of evergreens an owl swoops stealthily startling the brush

coquettish moon emerges
like a vestal virgin
from behind curtain
then smoothly seeks solace
in contemplative gadabout clouds
sequestering herself in order
to recharge and enlighten others

shyly shielding her glory temporarily taking respite from angst, egotistical attention and accolades,
again, mother moon hangs chillaxing
lifting spirits with quiet reflection

soft movements nearly undetectable her quest for momentary responsibility to shines silvery on in her own time

deep purple waves undulate under
weight of the soft silver memory of
distant glistening light stars
between intermittent spurts
of delicate rain and speckled mist
she relinquishes her light
but for a mere moment
to rest her weariness for a nanomoment regaining strength of shedding light upon the darkening canyon

Jack and Jill share buckets
full of illuminating secrets
refusing to fall down that blesséd hill
obscured from peering eyes
with short sighted ulterior motives and wagging tongues,
onward she decides to hold ground
trusting in primal instinct
knowing
those who look deeper beyond horizon of splendourous celebration of Autumnal night sky will see more than meets the eye

with hearfelt authenticity she seeks beyond scintillating skies
yeildng her brilliant birthright light
empowering inward during her momentary sabbatical

less weight,
now has she,
than carrying heavy
water logged buckets uphill,
tumbling shadows rise up and over streams plump with recent rains
water falling gently onwards over
craggy grey ancient granite
and recently felled trees

cool and mossy
in deep introspection
moon,
finally
having had enough
enough enough enough
being fully sick and tired
of long stories
of cows jumping over her
to get to the other sides of darkness,
reflects
eventually rejecting sublimation to counterparts, evolving into symbiotic syzygy
one-two-three aligned like soldiers
crickets begin to fade
as bullfrogs emerge

And at just that very moment, her light returns

lending forgiveness to the staggering changes mentoring great lessons one being
even during darkest moments
when we feel most invisible
trusting with true intent
the eventuality that cycles
will always reveal complete wholeness once again

patiently awaiting ecliptic emergence
in muted light slowly gathering strength to emerge powerful
after undulating moments of overwhelming treacle thick darkness
interspersed with glimmering hope
under the light of the moon
blooms an affluent splendor

enlightening our purposeful path
out from deepest depths of darkness
she cries: follow the path of light, I promise to reveal your way despite any pending darkness that has consumed your soul
i will help shine the way

Creekside

“…I release the woes or cares and worries…”

Kjirsti S.NicolaysenLeave a comment


Summer breeze is reward for Winter’s toil
freed toes delve dipping
into sand once boulders now soft and cool to touch
Purple rocks with driftwood bounty fills eyes as far one can see
Beyond the babble force of once upon gale and rainstorms gathering in deepest pools lending peaceful now to chatter of cicadas before the wake of frogs and half moonlight
Skipping stones across the surface towards otters whose heads pop up like candy gum treats and down again
Sweet and swift the flow of shadowing trees sheltering from a high noon sun and warming skin to the touch
Downstream children splash and chatter about the squishy moss that presses between their toes avoiding logs and rapids
Dappled light tumbles down towards me as I release the cares and woe of worries
A leaf gathers gumption to freely float away taken down by frothy undertow toes quickly bounding up and free from constraints now revel in thriving beyond survival
I am the leaf.

Seasons

Kjirsti S.NicolaysenLeave a comment

What? You mean you did not hear

Nature’s span, as with man,

has four seasons to the year?

Ovid Met. XV 199

When the grass was taller than eyes could see

and frogs easily jumped into ponds

and crickets competed with fireflies for attention

and frosty snow was good to the touch

with red, wet, happy hands

When stars above soared a million miles

and there were smiles on every man-on-the-moon

and imagination bloomed like poppies wide and bright

and fearlessness with anything told we couldn’t try

with unadulterated mischievous joy

When freckled faces captained pirate newspaper ships

and danced along with Puck and elves

and innocence staid off sorrow

and angst was an unknown word

with no need for sorrow

When we, who never knew hard, never guessed worse

and bullied our way into the universe

and glad oh-so-glad traded our prized possession, Time,

and in return thought an endless train of tomorrows

with disregard to limitations and lamentations

But then our plans resolved

into a reduction of our former selves

we thought no more of pirates, ships nor elves

one by one hope becoming blurred

in memory’s fading mist,

when decisions changed our visions

as our dreams became revisions

of our once intended way;

when at night we heard a whisper say:

“Have you lost your way? Lost your way?”

But that, oh all of that, that was mere digression

in the midst of our obsession to chase down time

heavily burdening traditions, social mores and blind driven ambition

we whittled away our dwindling day

across a darkening sky with dimming comets

Now ghosts lurk in the shadows of the grassy fields plowed to the bone

Now all those dancing princes-to-be fall weakened by water-logged ships

Now all the crickets found frostbitten in driven snow

Now the road less travelled is tired and worn and there’s not plenty more of it to go

Retracing our steps from room to room and more rooms oh, god so many rooms

tracing the steps of those who stepped before then after us, too

vaguely mumbling muttering as we near, nearer near more even near our last door

“Is this all there is? Is there not more of what was before?”

What appeared as orbs of light and waves of sound is diminished into blinding ebb

What came to us once playful colorful kite now seems a clumsy laden lead balloon

What dreams were made now lay softly gathering dust upon highest shelf as we gray

hanging ten overfold in the half hopes

they return again as toys in soft happy hands

Now like old murderous crows gathered on a widow maker

Then and again gossiping and scolding the younger birds on the scene below

Now our faces turned to furrowed fields wearing on like Sisyphus’ sister

Then turning to our hands with maps of blue fine sand slipping between our fingers

As the winds begin to bluster babbling setting chills to the core

realization sets in of a we learnt and won and lost and ignored,

The final question is,:

“Will the life in its sum of its parts,

of all learnt and won

or ignored and lost

turning water to wine,

sweet outweighing bitter

be enough to heal in generations to come?”