The Trouble with Poetry by Nicole Barth [12/28/12]

My mind was nestled
somewhere in between the cocoon of two earbuds
when I finally noticed the nameless crowd surrounding me.

The years in the fingers twisting a silver wedding band,
the Ketchup stain on a lavender shirt.
Her smirk, his wave; an arched brow.

Pieces before a game of chess.

I tinkered with a frayed audio cord;
you abandoned a train ticket.


*inspired by Billy Collins' "You, Reader"

Love Song by Nicole Barth [12/26/12]

Your embrace sheltered my frozen skin.
The freckles in your bright blue eyes said it all.

Streaks of sunlight coursed through your hair
the day I left  for a bustling city of distant melodies.

Stoplights protested the blizzard.
Snowflakes covered my eyelashes in a white mascara.
Thousands of lovely faces, but I wished for yours in the crowd.

Seamless by Nicole Barth [10/15/12]

I woke up whispering the sound of your dreams;
a compromise between the sweetness of last night's kisses
and this morning's embrace.

I reflected the breaths that grazed my skin.
Sonorous sighs trailed from me to you
in a quiet stream of acknowledgement.

Like a carnival of peace,
I moved from satin strands of hair
to the scar on your right knuckle.
A cartographer, retracing the familiar nuances of you and I.

Dreamer by Nicole Barth [9/30/12]

I am but a minute reflection
of all the late night talks I have had with you,
forever contemplating my melodramatic existence
over a venti latte with two Splendas and a bitter black tea.

The milky sweetness of your drink; the persistent pessimism of mine.
An auburn sunset ripples through your hair.
My mind drifts to the loose thread  beneath the second button of your cotton shirt.

"Hi," you whisper, leaning in to kiss the thought that creased my forehead.

Ashland by Nicole Barth [9/10/12]

If they could see how your fingers curl
around a strand of my morning hair,

your breath like silk
on my honest skin,

They would be
as in love with you as I am.

The parentheses that hold your smile.

 Beauty in its simplicity.

Alive in the silence of filtered sunlight.

My thoughts
frozen in a waiting line.

Wait by Nicole Barth [9/4/12]

Melancholy nights hit you.

And there's no reason for it,
besides searching for the image of
something you've never seen before.

That gnawing persistence that washes away the
limestone of your ribs.

No effortless stanzas in the precomposed
version of a perfected meditation.

If you only knew how to begin.

Melic by Nicole Barth [9/2/12]

We crave to be the inspiration. 

I know that in me are

the bones of a better woman.

You are the quiet in the midst of raging cities.

And I know we are all a little bit damaged.

You mend the silence that hurts to hold. 

Awake by Nicole Barth [7/18/12]

I could see for miles and miles,
Past the kisses that lingered on my lips
And the sonorous consonants, too heavenly to utter.

What if I could wish you into my arms?
Everything I whispered followed you home,
Through the river of concrete interstates
And unforgiving highways.

Until the Sun Blackens by Nicole Barth [7/18/12]

Children get bigger
But their hearts don’t grow up.
And you’re just as tender as the day I met you.

The night lacked stars.
And you felt you’d gone as far as you would ever go.

The  willow tree leaned toward you in the storm,
Like a drunken man, desperate to feel included .

I clung to the sound of the rain against the ironwork on my window.
It numbed the sting of returning the creases of your smile
To the wooden box of memories by my bed.

Ethereal by Nicole Barth [7/11/12]

Your voice like the vibrant notes
from acoustic guitar strings.

I would sing you my acrylic dreams.

The night you wrapped you arms around me.
A trail of incandescent laughter.

Every particle,
comforted by your kiss.

In the Morning by Nicole Barth [7/3/12]

Talk to me in the morning,

before the afternoon shivers across your face,

and the rusting car backfires below my window.

Before the refractions end their dance over the

cracks in my ceiling,

and the city smog calls to me.

*inspired by Alexander Pseudonym

Luminous by Nicole Barth [6/14/12]

A ceaseless humming
 in the rooms of the unspoken syllables.


Your hushed tones,
the ease in open palms
and a melancholic smile
in the owl's night.

Nameless Intuition by Nicole Barth [6/11/12]

Florence kept me company once more,
as the uneven cobblestones led me through
the juxtaposition of aspiring windows and an interlocking
canopy of trees.


I could feel you expanding in my lungs
as I breathed in the memory of you.
The syncopated drumming, pulling me forward,
past the street vendors and strollers wide enough to conquer the sidewalk.


An unplanned release in the midst of endless cacophony.
Your voice mellifluous
 and soft in the caverns of my mind.


Resisting time with every step I took,
I knew I had forgotten myself long ago.
Our secret was swimming in my veins.

The Raven by Nicole Barth [5/4/12]

Frenetic hands dance over the keys.

A cacophonous collision creates a symphony of discord

in the overactive mind of the beckoned.

Neither the midnight hands of a clock

nor the haze of a silent summer night

could calm the fiend that murmurs to me.

Acquiescence to the gnawing persistence

that vibrates in my veins.

A momentary dissatisfaction.  

The hesitation behind every line. 

Sigh No More by Nicole Barth [4/28/12]

I'm dreaming of a place where cello strings hum
a tune on the wooden slats of a park bench and
watercolor sunsets never fade. 
A cabin beneath the owl's nest. 


A place rusted bicycles would know. 
Our breaths the only interruption in the summer haze; 
no hesitations. 


Our backs against the trunk of a Willow tree; 
the air coated with the smell of rain. 
The freckles in our eyes would align. 

The Ink Factory by Nicole Barth [4/26/12]

The latest inkblot test is glued to your wooden floor.

What do you see on the walls of your bleached mind?

Ten thousand memorized words,

a bucket of newspaper clippings

and the latest sketch for a Technicolor tattoo.

The hawk that keeps you company

on a blackened Sunday,

and the sailboat permanently etched on the toe of your shoes.

There’s a drumming noise inside your head.

But there’s no use chasing Alice.

The hatter’s top hat has found a new home.

It never belonged to you.

Shuttered eyes hold you at an arm’s length. 

It’s time to pour it out.

Unravel your fists.

Release the iris petals, the broken compass and the stolen piano key.

Find your melody.  Exhale. 

Dandelion by Nicole Barth [4/21/12]

Tiger eyes found the silhouette of your face in the dark.

The fog of spiraling staircases,

 an echo in an empty room

and sepia photographs

floated behind her eyelids.

Alive in the unpainted brushstrokes of a blank canvas,

her glass tongue murmurs a soliloquy.

A note in the final bar of a love song.

The branch that leans toward you in the sunlight.

A marbled sky.

Interlocking ironwork on a copper door.

It reminds her of all the times her fingers have laced with yours.

The cardboard box of fluid confessions is the map

to her midnight musings and a heart of wild abandon. 

Color On the Walls by Nicole Barth [4/2/12]

The lining of my pocket is tearing at the seam.

I’ve carried a handful of trinkets and scraps of paper

 with your name on them for the past week.

A kiss, a sunrise and a polka dot dress seeped into its fibers,

along with a few hours of stolen laughter.

Tussled hair on a windy jetty.

The blare of a freight train’s horn driving past your uncle’s house.

The wrong lyrics to your favorite song on the radio.

They all found their way into the stitching.  

And one day, the seams will give way,

spilling all their contents at your feet:

the first day of spring,

a Floridian lullaby,

the chorus to my favorite love song;

and the beginning of a joke long forgotten. 

Daylight by Nicole Barth [3/13/12]

I’ve seen the silhouette of the timekeeper,

whose watch runs too quickly.

And the tracks that can only travel so far.

Yet I search for the distilled moments

in your eyes.

I’d rather the silence only Tuscan houses witness,

the hum that carries the dandelion seeds

and a grass stained summer dress at the end of the night. 

A myriad of colored bricks line the street to your studio.

And scrolls of ink will retell our dates with the rain.

An iris in the braided strands of my springtime hair.

There’s ecstasy in the sound of your laughter,

and a simple satisfaction

in our paper love. 

Nonno Presente by Nicole Barth [2/7/12]

It makes me wonder, as I stare at the wire-framed owl on my desk:

would you be proud of me now,

as I sit, hunched over the blue screen of a fairly new laptop?

Three hours since I decided I should be in bed.

The binding of my journal—A Moleskine—

is coming apart at the seams,

tired from all the times I’ve hassled it,

and demanded that its delicate pages

let me have the last word.  

Would you be insulted if I told you I didn’t write about you?

That the pages are not in our romance language?

 Or that your passing brought my recognition?

And it makes me wonder what you’d have to say about me.

Every inch of my notebook a Technicolor atlas of O.C.D.

By date, by subject, by chapter.

Each entry with its own sense of importance.

In bold lettering, no less.

The way to do, the way to be and the way to breathe.

It was all boiled down and categorized by you.

And everything had a meaning.

My thesis has been argued,

the event plan scribbled in a margin

and the case proven.

Surrounded by pens and books on journalism.

Your old phone number on my bulletin board.

And it makes me think of you. 

What Fills The Air by Nicole Barth [1/29/12]

This is another chapter in our paper romance.

I spilled the ink across the page, trying to spell your name.

And it all reminds me of the youthful girl below.

The morning dawn reflected off your skin.

It knew the very heart of us.

And as the hours escaped,

I could feel the differences between our two minds

and all the places they had been.

But I never wanted anything as much

as to fall into the sound of your breathing.

Early in the morning,

the smile that lingered in my eyes

came like rain.

I doubt I could recover.

Our love is wrapped in piano strings.

You are the tide that pulled me in.

A heartbeat in the pages I called home.

My fingers laced with yours. 

An atlas for all the days to come. 

The Photograph [1/25/12]

You painted me on a canvas of indigo confessions.

Your lens found the sun-kissed child in a fleeting glance

as primrose lips and mahogany eyes took form.

A cascade of curls in a suspended moment of time.

Like polished marble.

My strangeness and charm blended together.

And it’s peaceful underneath, in the arms of my ocean.

Our improvised symphony of laughter and open skies.

Nestled between the yellowing pages of a leather journal.

And no river and no lakes can put the fire out.

I’ve found a place to rest my head. 

Untitled Harmony by Nicole Barth [1/10/12]

This is how I compose my love.

Converting lines of dub-step and stomach butterflies into symphony.

An odd mix of ingredients that lead to syncopated inspiration.

The tenth repetition of a song.

I know it all too well.

Like the way your fingers trace my jawline.

The photograph of a moment. 

Your moonlit kisses under an indigo sky.

Followed by a watercolor daydream.

My mind hums the tracks that

you would have listened to

on your van’s broken stereo.

Speechless, with love notes in my hands.  

Your eyes are the ocean that shook me to my core.