Tuesday, September 27, 2011

writer`s block


she has been taken from me. Passion has been captured and driven into the deep-seated corners of my heart. unreachable. he took her. pulling her from the tip, one thread at a time. my delicate, hand-crafted web. shimmering, silver threads, woven into star-shaped treasure. when plucked gently, her iridescence sings in flavored colors. each string a different note, another color, one after another declaring beauty in soft glimmering light and immortal steam. the stringed web illuminates touching strings and plucking smoke in forms of luscious rosy pinks, deep blues, living greens and black violets. one evokes another and another, awaking each sliver of silver into life. it breathes. as adam did take his first breath. dirt to flesh. it breathes. my web. thoughts. pictures. notes. words. perfectly hand-crafted by my Love. shameless, consuming ardent words. but she is marred by dense, Dark Matter. a black hole. his name is Sin. he watches. touches. then slowly amplifies, spreading throughout my web. blistering. Passion can no longer capture, for she is being captured. spun up and tangled by him. a liar. she screams deep blue luminate tears. fading. dulling. becoming stone.




Sunday, June 5, 2011

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

the secret garden.

behind the honeysuckles and forsythias, through the pine trees and across the pebbled path, a step off course, there is a garden. hidden amid the busy world, serenity awaits. a glance beside is a dogwood tree; pink-in-bloom, hovering over deep red berries. the grass is taller here, where no feet dare tread. blades bend and bob in the breeze. a step farther sits an iron bench, copper speckled in a nook between branches. i sit with peaceful expectation- knees up and bare feet. a little, dotted bird hops beneath me. chirp and look for food. as i sit, i listen to the soft pond, the running waterfall. down. down. down the mossy rocks between crevices in the surface, like a spring. the water bubbles. chanting and pattering to the meet the pond where little golden-scaled fishies swim amongst the lilly pads. i wonder about He who made this sanctuary. surely it was made for me, for my love knows what enchants me; what romances my heart. fallen pine cones. the bluebells, buttercups and ambrosias. the charismatic robin who tips his head as if to say “how do you do?” a bluejay nestles himself in the pink dogwood, and two metallic, blue-green love birds sweep through again and fly away together side-by-side.

it has been so long since i have been alone like this- in company of the birds` melodic songs and the golden fish and the bumble bees. and deep thought of the beauty surrounding me crosses mind: God must be so beautiful for having created such vastly different things of the earth and sky- and of his soul. beauty, which reflects the desires of His heart, touches me in the breeze that bumps my skin and the efflorescence that bring pleasure to my eyes. the complexity of the earth is in reality such a simplicity. for God so loved that He gave . . . these gifts which are messages of the simplest, and most complex love story ever told. and yet man, as in our nature, convolute and snag and twist; when all that is asked of us is to simply say “yes.”

- hillary nicole

4. 19.11

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

budding dance

you are my elixir
sweetness is your hand brushing mine
charm, compelling me to blush and bloom
beneath the apple blossoms, lilies and blue bealls.
the delicate knell that is my heart`s efflorescence,
purple lilacs ringing, rippling back and forth,
honeysuckles nectar
descending as softens the breeze.
young and lush is our flesh,
seeking delight in each other
with swelling, plumes of ethereal embers.
i a floweret
fickle and coy
but you, a chevalier,
capture me
enthralled with pleasance
strength and softness blend chestnut and hazel,
silk reposing draped fully
envelopes our frame
lost in your protection
whimsical, our love dances
beneath the moonbeams.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

a transposing heart

her heart is being renovated,
a modulation from its stagnant state to sundry color
seven years a hollow heart bleeds
do you hear it?
thumping. dragging of chains.
unacknowledged in their presence
the tedious humdrum of a forlorn soul
broken to a shattered glassy shine
reflecting perfection deep, but blemished.
perverted from its organic essence
into a hot mess,
an unadorned breath
dejected and destroyed
weeping and blue
cherishes her castle dreams.
her spirit longs to deviate from her
rais`ed form.

she has dream`ed of sincerity
of faithfulness, and adventure
biting into fresh plumbs
purple juices dripping down her face.
but experience speaks lies
she questions why, but
her heart`s response is too ambiguous,
too deeply secluded. masqued. burried in her blood.
cloaked with deception
slander to her purest heart
eclipsed in the shadows of the moonlit trees
and camouflaged by nightfall.

her heart is being renovated,
brilliant fire gains victory over inky smudges
thought permanent.
hidden in the dusty cornered rooms
of her heart
a glow ignites iridescence here.
and it paints and polishes
dispelling obscurity, and
leaving sparkle in her emerald eyes

-hillary nicole

a mistake

soo...i wrote this for my american lit class the other day...but i don`t think i actually followed the directions given, slash i couldn`t find them...either way, its an okay "poem" i guess, as good as poems can be, esp. when i am the one attempting to create them...

ice storm

out there
bitter beats the windows
the fierce leaves chimneys blue and panes begging,
but he is merciless to them

trees twinge
screaming, salted flowers suffer
crystal shatters

every blow erupts a frenzy
leaving morose our hearts
draining warmth from our bodies,
we surrender to the night.

savage slows to civil
and turns to lull us
becoming radiant,
the moon smiles at the frozen world
and charms the frosty trees and grass
a stunning glow covers the earth
and settles and enthralls and glitters.

-hillary nicole

Monday, January 31, 2011

Where I`m From

I am from cool summer nights, twinkling fireflies, glitter illuminates the sky.

I am from bare feet running in fields,

damp green squish between my toes.

I am from spotlights, big stages and microphones

Eyes closed, lungs expanded, let go.

I am from the city streets,

busy people, traffic lights, stuck in their bluetooth.

I am from a coffee addiction, where Starbucks is on every corner,

not a sugar person.

I am from the only sane one, oldest of four

always playing mommy.

I am from an addictive personality

searching and found, fearful of peace.

I am from Italian wine, black, boots and colored scarves,

born to be a European.

I am from beautiful Russian language, but I could never be Russian

I smile in pictures.

I am from the crisp strums of my guitar

gold and incandescent resonate the cherry wood and pearl.

Eager to live the passion that tempers my ardent soul.

-Hillary Nicole