Life is for the Living
Poetry by Cristina Croft
a.k.a Nora Weston
 

Awesome Magnitude

Leafless, silent guardians, firmly rooted,
stand with great might to protect
the rugged edge of forever green.

Silken, sage colored wisps
of moss gladly multiply and breathe,
while life beneath explodes.

Violet wild flowers soak in morning dewdrops
and thirst for shimmering sunlight,
which defies the black night; sun exquisitely rises.

Everlasting life trickles in fresh water;
streams of hope playfully forge their way
through mother earth of long forgotten yesterdays.

Spellbound by the natural, almost magical
beauty, I lay and melt into a blanket of raw umber.
Gently, with a hushed calm, I escape into serenity.

Yellow Heaven

Water logged, indigo heavens smear
into heavy laden clouds of earthly mischief.
White blankets of volatile wrath,
they're eager to drench my sense of comfort.
Radiant star proudly rages war with Mother Nature,
as the impending storm brews and spins; it's mind blowing.

Slippery seconds slide right by me,
Time betrays me too, for now the precarious
air is twirling into a majestic cyclone.
Yellow sky engulfs once pleasant blue;
clouds succumb and resign themselves
to participate in this fluid trip of wild air.

Faster I run to seek shelter; anywhere shall do!
My feet trample upon sleek, wet blacktop,
while I swallow badly needed courage and hope.
Puddles attempt to soak my spirit, yet I flee.
Hard rain bites my skin to remind me that I'm a mere human,
for I do not control the heavens.

Underpass welcomes my adrenaline rushed flesh,
then I wobble, only faintly able to absorb
this storm of rain, wind, hail, and pure fear.
Split milliseconds later, the boastful sun reigns.
I smile, almost unable to believe I survived.
Unmeasured gratitude for life protected swells.

Six

miraculous, raven-haired beauty
burst forth upon this blazing world
possessed me, as the warm, bewitching twilight
softly surrendered; whispered good-bye

winter dared not strangle my bliss
with crackling icicle tears that slice
for he came unto this world; no fears
his mother twice blessed in a protective lyre

autumn spilled its speckled palette twice
a soul bestowed into our growing clan
he was eagerly welcomed; pure delight
as his tender newborn cry filtered throughout

many moons crossed over my blue eyes
life was full, overwhelming at times
yet, he did not care and without a sigh
surprise! my magical, wonderful number four

without hesitation the future stole my little souls
to soothe the pain, she joyfully came
too precious, her fluid laughter infectious
she consumes all sorrow; cements us

sun and moon race through the years
shockwave! Are you insane they say?
words fail me to express
the love I have for

Six

Camelot

In a valley of deep, green splendor,
surrounded by invisible magic,
a compassionate and respected King
ruled with his precious Queen.
We three were soon born to learn,
love, and master the art of living.

Enchanted swirls of priceless mercy
were granted unconditionally,
for the King and Queen
molded their young with a gentle touch;
yet, insisted upon honor, dignity, and respect
from we three.

Patience was bestowed upon both King and Queen
during foggy episodes with
firstborn- an intellectual knight who dared to undo,
second born- a strangely creative soul,
finale- lovely princess with a righteous heart.
And forevermore, King and Queen loved all.

Time, with all of its importance and power,
makes futile attempts to suffocate Camelot
and disregards that we ever really existed.
Henceforth, we three have gloriously rebelled;
our magnificent children know the mystical tales
and shall inherit the peace within.

Orb

black droplets encase innocence as
murky, yellow streams swallow the afterglow of life
while a shriek in the violet nightscape cries out for
mercy

and banished souls strive to cling together
hopeful that a shimmering beacon will
cast a long forgotten glance their way
to devour timeless
sorrow

pale, blue fog dissipates beneath a crimson, clouded sky
loaded with animosity toward the angst amidst the
tribes who tether to mask their shame and empty
pride

smoke filled winds twirl with a reckless fury
leaving desecrated tombs bare
unleashing a fatal wrath upon the living who now
despair

henceforth, the gatherers all make a claim for existence
to heavily breathe down memories that validate dreams
of nothingness revoked, life viciously carved out
and molded on the
orb

Liquid Manifestation

Salty spiced air smacks
into my pale, quivering lips,
which thirst for more
of everything.
Heavenly borne moon drops,
glazed with precious mercy,
dance wildly upon cerulean waves.
Rhythmic whoosh of sparkling
waters spew midnight magic
into the crisp wind, which soon
engulfs my spirit.
I'm whisked into this newly birthed,
magnificent whirlwind of unrestrained
splendor.
My deep blue eyes widen with bliss,
as my tender flesh makes contact
with spirals of undulating sea
and saturated sands of buried dreams.
A gentle laughter stirs inside
of my relentless, ever rising tide,
that mocks my demand to dissolve.
Nevertheless, this night of divine supremacy
captures all of my weighted hindsight
and cleanses yesterday; hope is revealed
to forever bask in the warmth
of a welcomed, sun kissed dawn.

Legacy

Barely sixteen, without a castle to claim,
an adventurer sailed to the mighty nation
of hope and eternal dreams.
He arrived with scarcely twenty-five,
yet, red hot courage
and maddening determination
possessed his unsinkable will to survive;
this Italian would fight against black hole odds
and forge his way unto the wild lands.
Twenty-four/seven he did work,
until his hands hardened,
his flow of paper green swelled,
until he had his own magnificent key.
A prosperous business and relentless desire
soon allowed that he could go back and fetch she.
Mighty ocean, with all her bottomless essence,
could not drown their fated plans of paradise.
Sweet American earth soon welcomed this daring pair,
who wed, laughed, and lived; they prospered.
Together, they set in place the forthcoming
of six offspring to help sustain the human race.

Midnight Fixation

Slick, oil stained streets complete
with metal mania surround sound
infiltrate my cluttered, mentally fried mind
and trashes what's left.
I'm dazed and confused;
my mind stares blankly at a red light,
which refuses to yield
to my frenzied state and turn green.
Yet, the full, copper moon shines boldly
and dares me to not gaze upon its beauty.
I look upward toward the heavens;
thunderbolts and lightening shatter
the aluminum booms
and clatter of busy city streets.
I breathe in and out; maybe it's the first breath
of real oxygen I've received this day.
I drive, almost recklessly, to escape
my certain human demise, for I now crave
the mystical grandeur of the ice capped mountains
and a blessed lake view sun rise.
Within a blur of peculiar time,
I eventually arrive and aggressively decide
to leave the pollution, noise, and mayhem far behind.

Life is for the Living

I've lost the black, striped cat
and the car keys too.
I'd pay the screaming loud and clear bills,
if I could find a blank check without
crayon drawings of dinosaurs on them.
Yes, I'd make pancakes for my lovely clan,
except my darling four-year old daughter,
decided to decorate the down stairs today
with the very last bottle of super, sticky syrup.
I could use a break; a hot shower you say?
Possibly, if I can get Barbie to vacate
the clogged up shower drain.
No milk, so I'll make Kool-Aid this morning,
except that I've spilled five pounds of sugar,
when my fifty pound pup ran into my legs.
Such terrors I've reaped, staying sane
will be an overplayed game of survival today.
I'd sit down and cry, but who has the time?
Suddenly, without warning, I feel a slight
touch around my aching legs.
My small, snuggly daughter hugs me
almost to death.
As I reach down to pick her up,
she anxiously hands me a beautifully colored check,
complete with a crayon drawing of a rainbow on it.
She kisses me so gently and says, "Happy now, mommy?"
I swallow my morning roller coaster ride
and wrap my arms around my joyful child.
I respond, "Forever and a day,
I'll be happy to be with you."

Anna of White Hall

Enchanted cry circles throughout,
while proud parents of she
are left mesmerized
by newborn purity.
Crystal clear optics absorb
this blurred reality, which bequeaths
unto this child, unconditional love,
peace, and harmony.
She thrives; this child dances upon
air molecules and without hesitation
she dares time to stop her
from evolving into a beautiful lass.
Whomever she encounters is thrice
blessed with sincerity, honesty, and kindness.
Icicle winters swirl about making futile
attempts to freeze her precious soul, which fail.
Skeletal trees welcome spring's yearly revival
over and over; still, she gloriously blossoms
and welcomes life faithfully.
Summers glow with sheer sunlight and
buzz by ever so quietly to grant
her desperately needed peace.
Her bronzed skin is soon caressed by autumn;
it falls about her to once again
hypnotize her senses and stagnate joy,
but she prevails with vibrant colors.
Innocence skips into the future
and now she's a blinding beacon
in a gray world that screams for her.
She answers the call
and sheds light on the wondrous beauty
that has encircled her from birth.

Copyright © 2003 Christina Croft
All rights reserved

About the Author

Christina Croft is a Wisconsin-based poet and story author with many publishing credits. The mother of six children, as she proudly reflects in her poetry, keeps her busy, but not too busy to be creative. She has had flash fiction in Insolent Rudder, and short stories in "The Murder Hole" and "Steelcaves." Christina has had poetry published in "Dark Moon Rising."

She also writes under the penname "Nora Weston." Her novel "Seriously Dark and Disturbed" (shown here) is available in soft cover from Virtual Bookworm.

Images:

Top: "The Lily Chair," John Singer Sargent, ca. 1916
Middle: "Peonies," F. Luis Mora, 1916
Bottom: "Sumertime II," Mary Cassatt, 1894