The Descriptive Poems
All poetry and artwork included in these pages is copyrighted © by Kristy Nilsson..
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The DarknessDecember 1999 - Copyright
There is a dark, hooded sadness,
Crouched at the bottom of my soul,
Waiting with bitter patience.
He does not howl or scream,
But he makes his presence known with an incessant maundering ring -
Like hollow chimes in the swirling winter wind.
He does not touch me or speak to me,
But he follows at my heels with the persistence of a shadow
And then pools around my feet-
Like the wax that holds a melting candle to its ground.
The Ocean & The MoonApril 2000 - Copyright
The ocean holds the broken moon
In his naked night embrace;
She lies between the inky waves
And dances for her love…
But he can only cry;
The sea is salty from his tears.
For he knows
The sun will burn the sky
And take his goddess away.
The CloudsAugust 1998 - Copyright
From the plane,
The clouds are not the innocent bunnies and puppies
that they appear to be from the ground.
From this close we see their true nature.
The clouds are not the amorphous, intangible mists that we deem them.
No longer delicate, fluffy and windblown.
From the plane, the clouds form the eerie landscape
of a desolate, snowy planet.
They are not pushed by gentle breezes,
but are eroded by the winds into buttes, canyons and caves.
And the wispy clouds that pass over these white plains and floating mountains,
are great, ferocious beasts - anti-gravity dinosaurs, of sorts.
Sailing and swimming in their weightlessness,
These fluffy giants swallow up our tiny jet,
And we feel the rumbling as the beasts chew us up.
The GigglesJuly 1999 - Copyright
Intoxicated with giggles, we stumble over nothing,
Untroubled by our audience of others.
We don’t recall the joke, and we don’t care what it was
Because laughter feels a lot like love.
Tripping up the stairs, are three intertwining pairs
Of floundering, doddering legs.
We’ve smiled our faces to their maximum width,
And we can hardly keep our feet below our knees.
So we braid our arms around each other’s waists
And topple forward as a group, like a sloshing bowl of soup
‘Til we spill out on the lawn, in a crashing, splashing heap
And we laugh ourselves to silence on the ground.
SummertimeMay 1998 - Copyright
The summertime air is heavy; it rests on us - surrounds us.
But its weight is not oppressive; it is a comforting embrace.
It is thick and we cannot walk through it, so we lay in the grass that no one will mow.
The air is so thick that sound cannot penetrate it, so we lie in silence
The air smells like sweat and suntan lotion...
There is no breeze so the wind chimes are dead.
The WindApril 1998 - Copyright
Tonight the wind is crying so loudly that I mistook it for thunder.
The night sounds like a strange orchestra -
Tuning itself with its incessant whirling.
The trees are throwing their branches;
Trying to uproot themselves in hopes that they will run -
and escape this dissonant howling.
The sky is a muddled purple.
But the rain has stopped.
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All poetry and artwork included in these pages is copyrighted © by Kristy Nilsson. All photographs, graphic images, artwork and written material on this site are copyrighted by either Scott Nilsson, Kristy Nilsson or Scott & Kristy Nilsson, or by others - whether or not they are attributed to other authorship and may not be copied, reproduced or otherwise distributed without the written permission of the authors. Any work by others appearing on this site is for reference purposes only: ALL WORKS ARE COPYRIGHT PROTECTED BY AND FOR THEIR RESPECTIVE AUTHORS. Some of the trademarks appearing or mentioned on this site appear for identification purposes only. Copyright © 1994 - 2006-10-09 by Scott & Kristy Nilsson - 2nilssons.com. All rights reserved. Revised: 10/09/06 16:07:56 -0400.