flower

Cliffs of Moher

some photos i took of the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland

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

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.

a transposing heart

her heart is being renovated,

transposed.

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,

transposed.

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

again.

-hillary nicole

02.08.11

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.
peace.

-hillary nicole

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