Black pastel love

Poetry, poem, darksoul, love, aquarius, writingprompts, life, love, Norway, Norwegian artist, artist, author, artistic poet, creativeArt, my own @orkidedatter

I have a trumpet in my black pastel heart

a symphony in my chest

a melody of the colors of the rainbow flows

in my veins as creates a bridge to his soul

I fell in love with an aquarius under the

midnight sun

upon the mountain high

you gave me a summer kiss

your shimmering verses from your trembled

lips in the line with the shades of color of

heaven as an amethyst makes

waves of euphoria flowing over all

the pores of my body.

Your eyes danced solasta bright when

I took my feathers out from my long hair

to play it on your skin.

Your laughter tickled my heart strings and

you whispered to my Angels wings

«we are condemned to act in portrays of the

crystalline from ours cards of future»

My destiny from Cupid`s arrow is

written into my history of black pastel love.

-Orkidedatter-

Love letters to the death

Writer, poet, poetry, darkpoetry, author, darksoul, Norway, dikter, dikt, poet, forfatter, artist, kunstner, words, myself, loveletters, kjærlighetsbrev, creative, Art: my own @orkidedatter

Your spirit is a last fragrance from

your touch on my cheek

darkness is crying out

you gasping for air

see into the depth of my soul

feel into the depth of my heart

sink into the depth of my eyes

unfulfilled dreams can’t be my

ashes from my rose petals

after my death

shades from a panther in the shadows

painting the weakest chain in a cloud

starless night and a path in the forest

black pearls dripping down from heaven

the perfect touch from Angels above

with love and prayers

my fragile heart can’t bear this

life on earth anymore..therefore

I write love letters to the dead…

-Orkidedatter-

Behind a mask

Poet, poetry, Norwegian, Norge, Norsk, dikter, forfatter, my life, dark poetry, creative, my soul, my heart, authorArt: my own @orkidedatter

– Behind a mask-

Behind a mask, someone is hiding

my door was opened to my safe place

now it became my prison

I cried – no one saw my tears

I screamed in disgust – no one has ever

heard them

a little girl’s fragility gets crushed by the crime

caught in the curse of the mask

no escape

trapped in a body that slowly have died

she buried herself in pain

so as not to feel what she saw

a empty shell with a color of black

behind a mask an unwritten diary

beneath rolling waves

a sea of guilt

bound with chains and trapped in mystery

every minute passed and I felt the hell that

even darkness feared .

-Orkidedatter-

A country girl’s New Year

Art artist poetry orkudedatter Norway poem New Year forfatter author norwegian author dark soul dark soul poetry Norway Art: my own @orkidedatter

New Year and my skeleton rattle of

memories of withered days

lies like an evil smoke in the air

headlines from the miserable color-spattering

paint strokes in the dark

I throw away an old treasure map from my

ruined soul on the ocean

a cold winter night that casts a veil over me of

ice crystals

I howl against the moon and

wave to nature’s queen between the stars

a dark room in my heart with fear of another

new and strange year

the old I wipe out from the canvas of life

a collection of thoughts from my dead eyes and

my scars of madness in my wounds of running

from the unknown

You spoke to me in poetry

tangle me in your rhyme

you danced with me in my darkness of sorrow

and wake me up inside

my broken heart heal

and this year you can’t burn someone who is

made of fire…

I reach for your hand

I inhale your memory because when I exhale

your ghost beneath the lilac skies and where

the cold winds blows as they strip you away…

it is time to watch what happens when bravery

lights the way

unlike storms left undspoken

-I have stared into the abyss

and it has stared back into me

I have lived there-in hell…

I will rewrite the ending to start over on the

inside…

Welcome 2020

-Orkidedatter-

It’s time to sparkle…

Poem poetry dikt artist Norwegian artist dark soul Christmas darksoul poetry feelings mylife childhood memories Art: my own @orkidedatter

It’s time to sparkle….

She felt the Christmas spirit was buried deep

within her flesh and bones

a moment before dark a blacbird whistling

from the navy blue sky in the snowfall

across the moonstream and shade to shade

she walk like a princes of sorrow in these cold

night

her love is an icy touch on your ruin of a

silhouette shadow

death roams all around her black Christmas

fire deep inside her darkness

a silent night before Christmas

no one can hear her screams in jarring tones

behold a glimmer in the black dreams of

crushed Christmas holiday

ghosts of Christmas past throw back

memories from when she covered her eyes and

ears

she has always scent the smell of hell

she have no heart for joy

a dark girl never smile

no luck are written in the stars of destiny

when the frozen moonbeams chases her

missing pieces through the dark

too often she was afraid of what lurks behind

the wall pretending to be light

a sound of tears a moment after the fear of

the sound of crushed glass behind the shadow

of her soul

watching the night upon the forest

the dead souls taking flight from

a cementery grave when she close her eyes

frozen tears falling down her cheeks

her kiss is like the wind so cold on your lips

she can feel herself falling

now she is crawling by the snowflakes that

glittering like emeralds around her

cadence of her last breath

a silent night before christmas

while the night still hides her withered heart….

-Orkidedatter-

Christmas’s dark wish…

Orkidedatter darksoulpoet poet poems romance love writer author forfatter Norway Norge norsk forfatter artist kunstner skribent dikter poetry life Christmas jul Art: always my own @orkidedatter

Your body is like winter wonderland

unique as a snow crystal.

I have a desire to lick all your drops

of candy.

Swallow your nectar to taste you within.

You are my Mr. Christmas,

I’m your grief,

going togheter like fire and ice.

A want to exhale Christmas spirit, but all my

heartstrings plays is a melody of sadness,

I curl up and hide.

Outside the snow silently settled.

You understand the world inside me.

You told me sacred secrets to close a chapter in

my soul.

My noisy mind began to smile.

All the little things created to shapes in colours

lit a fire deep down.

You touched me like Angels wings,

faded away all my fear.

You grab my hair.

Your sensual hands holding my hips,

you pushed me up against the wall.

A Christmas hot mystery of explosive fireworks

that’s wandered right into between my legs.

You are my savior soul I longing for.

I tease your luscious lips

and seduce those to mine,

take you with my tounge

to a distance that make you forget to breath.

We are dancing in the flames.

I’m breathing harder and faster.

We loose controll.

We thouch the sky.

Shooting stars falling behind my rolling eyes.

You inhale that alluring cent of my lotus,

you bring all my petals out.

Sweatbathed skin skim across of lust and every

forward thrust straddling the fine line between

pain and passion.

The moment our heart’s pulses

and two souls screams in mercy…

You are hard as ice.

As a waterfall I flow down your magic part

of lovemaking.

You are slaying my wrong side of my

heart and completes us on a seldom level.

I collapse when you squeeze my mountains

and you make me some milk

sweet and thick…

I moan for both of us when

each little dark wish of mine

comes true the night before Christmas…

-Orkidedatter-

-That girl-

That girl show her burned and

massacred wounds

she yearn for souls with depths

deeper than world ocean`s 

blue and dark souls who have

seen the furies in perdition 

that girl rip off chains of this

mental cage however beaten

always a soul of the miserable

intertwined with the lost ones

a desire to fight 

heartbeating

soul singing

spirit rising

phoenix within catches her legacy

finally find home

solicitations to be your gravyard

please, bury her skeleton with conscience

after your demons have eaten her soul out

and you raise that girl spirit

to yours dark heart

of a dead soul in a permanent pain.

-Orkidedatter-

A brush stroke

(English text after Norwegian text…)

En bit av meg mental health psykisk helse bli frisk igjen Norwegian art Norwegian blogger blogger livsmestring male maling colour Norwegian blogger et penselstrøk orkidedatterart

Et penselstrøk

For hver gang hun tar penselen opp og ser på fargene som ligger foran henne, vil hennes hjerte synge en glad sang.

Når hun bestemmer seg for hvilken farge hun skal ha på sitt penselstrøk vil hennes sjel juble.

I det hun lar pensel og maling bli ett, skriker hennes følelser av smerte, og det ene penselstrøket minner henne på hva som var.

Hun kan ha lyse og glade farger, men allikevel kastes det en skygge over dem.

Hun kan velge triste og mørke farger og allikevel kastes en skygge over dem så de blir enda mørkere.

Hun kan bruke penselen fort med bestemte strøk. Eller bruke penselen forsiktig med lette bevegelser.

For hvert penselstrøk er det en følelse.

Jo mer hun maler, jo mer kommer «hun» frem i fargenes spill. Hennes innerste speiler seg i hva som males foran henne.

Hun trekker pusten skjelvende og holder opp det hun maler foran seg. I et lite øyeblikk, et glimt av spøkelsene og et lite glimt av smerte, kan hun se noe forandrer seg.

Hun henger opp det hun har malt opp på veggen. Tar noen steg tilbake og med beundring i blikket hun ser skyggene blir mindre og fargene kommer klarere frem.

Kan hun mestre å gi slipp.

Kan hun farge over det som var med nye farger.

Kan mørke bli lyst igjen.

Hvilke farger vil hun male på sine skjøre vinger som skal lære seg å fly?

Hun tørker bort noen tårer, tårer som faller fra dypet i hennes hjerte og som hun dekker sin sjel med…

-Orkidedatter-

//

A brush stroke

For every time she picks up the brush and looks at the colors in front of her, her heart will sing a happy song.

When she decides what color she should wear on her coat, her soul will rejoice.

As she lets brush and paint become one, her feelings of pain scream, and one brush stroke reminds her of what was.

She can have bright and happy colors, but still a shadow is thrown over them.

She can choose sad and dark colors and yet a shadow is thrown over them so they become even darker.

She can use the brush quickly with specific coats. Or use the brush gently with light movements.

For each brush stroke there is a feeling.

The more she paints, the more «she» appears in the games of color. Her innermost is reflected in what is painted in front of her.

She shakes her breath trembling and holds up what she paints in front of her. In a moment, a glimpse of the ghosts and a little glimpse of pain, she can see something changing.

She hangs up what she has painted on the wall. Take a few steps back and with admiration in the eye she sees the shadows getting smaller and the colors became clearer.

Can she master to let go…

Can she color over what was with new colors…

Can darkness brighten again…

What colors will she paint on her fragile wings that will learn to fly?

She wipes away some tears, tears falling from the depths of her heart and covering her soul with …

-Orkidedatter-