Flourish by Nicole Barth [10/14/18]

I felt symphonies pour through your fingertips
as they glossed over my hair.

You had constellations brewing in you
as the Sunday hum rolled over us.

An embellishment of
freckles and smirks
confined in the ambiance
of you and me.

You were the tune I knew too well and the repetition
 that steadied a hummingbird heart like mine.

You soothed
and rocked and breathed and rolled
like ocean waves,
and somehow shifted like melted silver.

Glistening and cool,
tranquil and collected.

You had every element in you and
somehow cradled me still.
I watched you like the universe
housed in a planetarium.




Summer Breeze by Nicole Barth [6/23/18]

I met you in the wilderness,
where my language was foreign.

I felt you cushion me
like the moss beneath my feet.
You were warm and somehow familiar,
beneath the canopy of trees.

You swayed like forest grass,
interlacing your voice with my own;

You were the ivy growing around me,
stretching further into the details of my fiber.

Your words reminded me
of the breaths the earth had known. 

Muse by Nicole Barth [6/19/18]

You pulled me into the infinite
and swallowed me,
elasticizing time;

Long and rolling
like the limbs
of you,

My love,

Whose pulse intertwined
with my own like
whispering
heart sighs.

It makes no difference.

We have our own
and needed none
within the longer melody of ourselves.

And it all came pouring out of me
like water bursting
through its dam.

I never knew a balance. 

Writing Poetry by Nicole Barth [6/19/18]

It's Monday morning.

We plead exhaustion;
cocooning ourselves
and shifting the blinds;

Laments that slip out of
our mouths in extended yawns.

So
we prolong it with a stretch,
lengthen our limbs;

So much effort,
it seems,
to let the words
roll out of bed.

Except
for sometimes,
the words drip
like Sunday morning. 

The Etymology of You by Nicole Barth [9/3/17]

Your roots are based in early morning 
muffled breathing under 
the melody of a rickety AC
and an ambiance of unfolded laundry. 

You're black coffee in 
maroon mugs with rounded lips; 
hair slicked back with tap water, 
and the way you toast my bread. 

You're the wrinkled shirt untucked
and the Nintendo left charging 
on my grandma's antique chair. 

You're poetry I can't finish 
and definitions soon to come. 










If I Were a Poet by Nicole Barth [5/9/17]

I've been taught it takes a lot of
Prowess to be a poet;
That finding beauty in metaphors
And explaining the color of his eyes
In a way that isn't akin to
Pools,
orbs
or
crystalline

Could  bring me accolades.

I've been inculcated with
Datum after datum
That poetry should evoke emotions
And physical responses with every line;

That there's no sense in writing
If your Public's heard it all before.

Well,
I've seen and heard plenty
And been taught even more.

But why wait for the perfect line,
The inimitable truth;
The glistening metaphor,
When the core of it,
The very vibration with which you speak
Ignites the crowd?

Speak the truth;
Write your reality

And continue the creation. 

Into the Deep by Nicole Barth [5/9/17]

And if my words could travel through the
Ocean, down the fathoms,
Would they find you
In the sum of  your profundity?
Would the echoes of last night
Wander through depths to meet you?

Would you join me,
Whispering like the seaweed
On the ocean floor?