Emotions

She sits, her eyes awash with tears.
Life ebbs and flows from cornflower irises.
Her blank stare carries a mark of unmistakable bereavement.

A button nose crinkles in distaste.
Squinting eyes conceal cornflower irises.
a delicate tongue floats past her mouth,
an expression of comical dislike.

Blonde arches pull together.
Heat emanates from cornflower irises.
A spark, ignited sets afire her anger.

Pink lips bloom to reveal straight white pearls.
There is a sparkle in cornflower irises.
The smile reaches the depths of her soul and she is happy.

Nicole Knigge

Boredom

The hot wind rushes past my legs,
obviously in some kind of a hurry.
Me, I sit and watch the grass grow.
It is good to be bored.

Birds fly restlessly, swooping and perching
for an instantaneous moment before taking off again.
I listen to the music in my head.
My mind is ever working.

Bees fuss and toil with their labors.
There are hungry mouths to feed.
I wait for enlightenment, for an end to the
ceaseless chatter of my thoughts.

Everyone is in an awful hurry.
I am too, most of the time.
I'd rather sit and watch the grass grow.
It's wonderful to be bored.

Nicole Knigge

Freezy Cold

Shivering, wet from head to toe.
"I freezy cold." she shakes.
My heart bursts into peices,
So sweet, loving, kind.
"Mama, I freezy cold." she implores.
"I know hon." I sooth
"Mama'll get you warm."
Her lips a shade of blue.
When she's older,
and has chlidren of her own.
I'll always have her childhood,
one tiny little phrase.
"Mama, I freezy cold."

Nicole Knigge

Fresh eyes

To my Daughters

The sparkle of life warms your eyes,
curious, introspective, and unconditional.
The world is awsome and new,
every small detail deserving of your
attention.
The way the sunlight glints off a shiny
object, or the way your fingers taste.
The way the breeze on a warm summer day
smells, or the feel of grass beneath your feet.
Always searching for more, to reach some
understanding.
The gift of life eternal, however long that
might be.
Never knowing that time is passing quicker
than you think, being wonderfully oblivious.
What is it like, I wonder, to be in such a
state.
I passed there a long time ago, yet cannot
remember.

Nicole Knigge

Mirrors

I don't like them.
They peer at you from hair to hem.
Pronouncing every nuance and imperfection,
Oh, harrowing, beastly reflection.
At times it is nice and assuring,
telling one they're perfect and alluring.
Times like these are the best,
giving self-cosciousness a little rest.
So much unlike our "freind" the scale,
whose truth is complete, never fails.
Deceiving, mistaken, sometimes lies,
Is it the mirror?
Or my own eyes?

Nicole Knigge

Smile

Smile,
don't look so sad.
I know it hurts,
it always has.
The feeling of being wanted,
needed.
For the love and acceptance,
of ones who should have been there.
Smile,
you have so much to go on for.
Pain clouds all thoughts of reason.
I wonder if they know?
I wonder if they care?
I love regardless,
but it still hurts.
And I'm still smiling.

Nicole Knigge

The Portrait

There he sits in great concentration.
Thinking, pondering his masterpiece.
He goes to move, then stops.
Not knowing, "Be truthful or kind?"
Hands that are knarled and spotted
twitch with anticipation.
The gears of his mind turn slowly.
She sits there rigid in great concentration.
Thinking, pondering her masterpiece.
She goes to move, then stops.
Not knowing, "Will he be truthful or kind?"
Hands that are lean and young
fold strictly across her lap.
The gears of her mind turn swiftly.
Then as inspiration stirkes him,
his hands begin to fly.
She waits patiently;
she trusts him.