Condensed Supernova by Nicole Barth [2/15/2020]

Not too long ago, 

you said I was a

Condensed Supernova, 

with all the trillion years of history 

bubbling out of me 

in ripples of cosmos 

and a smattering of constellations. 

And the truth is, you're right. 

I play with the immensity of atmospheres 

and listen to the winds of fate 

like a howling lullaby. 

I am subtle like a hurricane 

and as quiet as a tempest. 

I let the sunlight flood in 

through my pores 

just as quickly as 

fury sets me aflame. 

But you are the waves that crash against me,

smoothing my edges like tumbled sea glass. 

You are the lull of camomile tea 

that pours into my cup, 

the tranquility of 

Sunday mornings

and as certain as the sunrise. 

You are the constant to my wavelengths 

and the harmony that finds me 

again and again.  

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.