Cristina M. R. Norcross - Poet / Writer
SELECTED POETRY
One Story
There are nearly thirteen million people in the world. None of those people is an extra. They're all the leads of their own stories.
~Charlie Kaufman, from his film, Synecdoche, New York
Playing the lead in a haystack,
existing side-by-side in our solitary lives,
solace comes when we join these needles together –
the thread of life.
Jumping into character,
taking leave of the present world –
who wears your clothes when you sleep?
I am just a forgotten pebble –
a spark of granite daring to glint.
You see me walking down the street –
out of focus lines of arms and legs –
a disappearing narrative.
The screens keep getting wider –
a stage full of leading ladies and leading men.
They all spin in circles –
red curtains flying.
The cleaner, unheard,
leaves all untouched except the dust.
The man attached to his phone,
alone on the airport walkway –
his family waits.
The actress learns her lines on a threadbare couch,
sitting on hope.
We are all One Story.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2009
(As heard on Blog Talk Radio, The SpeakEasy Cafe, "Sound of Ink" Open Mic Poetry. Download the FREE podcast with my poem from this show HERE)
Mother’s Day(for my mother)
Anticipating needs,
in tune with moods –
even from across the ocean.
The road to home begins
with the memory of a mother’s welcome.
When you walked with unstable gait,
she held one finger for reassurance –
two fingers for balance.
With blue spotlights shining
on a stage of dancers in pink tulle,
her applause filled the room –
her pride lifting your arms even higher.
The science project that refused to spin,
sent her on a late night, craft store expedition.
The satin ribbon still sits in a box of reflection.
Walking down the aisle, you notice perfection –
a mother’s precise planning.
Smiles appear –
framed by white flowers and ribbons on pews.
Platters arrive with culinary concoctions for every palate.
Boxes and boutique bags are whisked away and stored,
as your car travels to the first night’s chateau –
a trip with your honey to the moon.
On this day of mothers,
all standing in a row of love,
let the thank you from your lips
reach the patient ears
of the woman listening
for all of these years.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2009
FREE POEMS! I will be giving away free, signed copies of this Mother's Day poem, printed on parchment paper at the upcoming Aprons in the Wind show, Sat. May 9th, 2009 at The Lakes Gallery in North Lake, Wisconsin. Local businesses will also have copies to give out Mother's Day week-end, as a special promotion to give poetry as a gift!
Distribute Widely! If you would like to have this special poem to give to your mother, just e-mail me and I will send you a copy to print out! Pass on the link! GIVE THE GIFT OF WORDS!
The Red Drum
(Inspired by the writing of Stanley Kunitz)
Your heart – a red drum.
Taut leather bound
to the infinite shape of a circle,
seeks the music of other beating hearts.
Sound changes,
when a strong wind blows,
when the leather is rain-soaked,
when the sun makes the circle
jump into the light.
“I made this,”
says the drum.
Dreams take shape in the air,
with each, bellowing note.
“Now change it by living,”
says the drum’s stick.
Sing a new song.
“Truth –
Of thee I sing.”
Many more layers of change
bring syncopated rhythms,
ballads of longing,
and newly discovered voices.
Your heart is a red drum –
now crimson with passion,
tomorrow the sun makes it pink –
a tender, summer rose.
Sing your transformation to the world.
Beat the drum.
Beat the drum.
Beat the drum.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
(From the book, The Red Drum, pub date: November 2008)
THE RED DRUM is now available at both www.lulu.com and www.amazon.com.
***
What I Wish for You
What I wish for you is more –
more of what I have loved,
more of what you seek to find,
more adventures than I could ever imagine,
so that the experiences lather up beside you,
like the froth of an ocean wave.
What I wish for us is that this thread of connection,
that vibrates like a chorus of guitar strings,
sending out melodic stirrings,
stays in motion.
Let us never stop touching
the furthest point in the distance.
What I wish for tomorrow
is that there could be a field of tomorrows,
populated by an expanse of red poppies,
heralding the dawn.
But, this tomorrow I wish for
exists beyond my reach,
so I will hope that the day after that is a good day.
It will be a day that I will exist in forever –
this paradise we speak of –
this home we return to when God’s loving embrace
is the only garment our spirits wear.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
(From the book, The Red Drum, Pub Date: November 2008)
***
The Surfacing of Atlantis
(Inspired by the handmade artisan jewelry of Jennifer Peña)
Reaching and stretching my will,
a swarm of bubbles,
like bees,
hums all around my arms.
Beaded wraps shimmer and sway.
Sunlight cascades through hidden crevices,
like lace lattice-work,
shielding my heart
from all darkness here on earth.
I surface like the ancient pillars –
too long buried in the ocean depths.
Rise to the clear layer of water that glimmers,
with white-capped waves
and reflected light,
from former years that have returned
with yearning.
Like history being written for the first time –
write you life.
Be true to your word,
and live the dream,
that you hold so dear
in the center of your hand,
like a rare jewel.
You are surfacing,
like the mighty castle of Atlantis.
Return to yourself and break through the cresting waves.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2007
To view the beautiful designs of Jennifer Peña on Etsy.com please click HERE)
A Crow's Path
(Inspired by the photography of Pat Bashford)
In the shadow of a tree’s roots,
the image of a proud bird appears.
Wings outstretched –
flight is imminent
for the ancient, black crow.
He speaks of secrets –
an oral history
of magic and bird lore.
Tree of life,
giver of hope –
the white path
is a cluster of clouds
winding its way
through the brush
after touching earth.
Far from home –
from the sky.
The crow brings news
of tomorrow
with his song.
Fortune’s melody –
lyrics hang in the air,
awaiting translation.
Branches reach
and seem to move
with the flow
of life.
It is a dance –
nature’s choreography.
We observe this rhythm –
what the natural world
holds in balance.
Keys to understanding,
pieces of a puzzle –
one day,
this will
be simple again.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2007
(From the book: Living Nature’s Moments – publication details coming soon!)
Thirteen-Year Friends
(Inspired by the artwork of Anne Raskopf)
Walking together through the fields,
heads bowed to the sun,
grazing companions greet the new day.
A gate opens with the music of metal.
The sound of galloping hoof beats
fills the air with longing,
with the freedom of expansiveness,
and the scent of freshly cut hay.
Running with the wind,
powerful, lean legs
transform the pasture into an endless road.
Other horses seek this path
with their eyes,
knowing that aspirations
are lighter than air.
This too, can be their future.
Meeting again where the land dips,
and the greenest hues grow darkest,
these thirteen-year friends share a meal
and some respite from the human world.
Wondering when her horse will return,
the rider sees the outlines of gold and deep brown
in the distance.
She smiles at the independence,
the sheer joy of living a life of beauty –
the equine mystery.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
***
Life is a Journey
(Inspired by the artwork of Anne Wall)
Start living where you are –
on this glassy surface
of blue promises
and bold, cerulean skies.
Each stroke brings you
closer to the journey prepared –
to the paddle dipping into vitality.
Moments in the sun
make your hands appreciate
the tall grass’s shade,
the sleek, carved reflection
of the boat’s long body,
and your future –
dancing on the shore.
The clouds usher forth
a direction too clear to ignore.
The depths share advice too.
Your breath remembers
the tracings of that
dark stranger you used to be.
Your heart’s rhythm
pushes the scull,
until purpose breaks free.
Without borders,
the path becomes
a wide canyon.
Your heart knows
that no direction
is the true answer.
You are here.
Start living where you are.
Start living.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
All is in Balance
(Inspired by the painting “She Slept Like a Log” by Holly Kallie)
The water’s current is a lullaby.
The air brushes her hair in sleep.
The wood’s grain welcomes floating dreams –
exquisite balance.
Beautiful dreamer,
with peach skin warmed by the sun,
let deep waters stir beneath you,
so that waking life may carry the torch.
With an essence so clear
that a bed of stones
reflects stardust at night,
your center shines with purpose –
a beacon to the heavens.
All is in balance
in this restful, water reverie.
With cupped hands,
carry your heart’s light
to the body’s temple,
and offer up
the balm of peace you seek –
to others.
May this lapping at the shore
of love’s haven
be our cradle.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
Click HERE for a preview of the fine art giclée for this poem and painting on Holly Kallie's website!
On the Rocks
(Inspired by the photography of Pat Bashford)
Today is Tracy’s birthday.
Perched on jagged rocks,
with her foot firmly in the groove of
a rust-colored crack,
she contemplates the sky’s message.
This is a private celebration.
Tonight her friends will bring
frilly, purple gift bags,
filled with tissue papered surprises.
Her husband will cover her shoulders
with the warmth of his hands
and a new alpaca sweater.
The cake will be sweet.
The music will be a loud drum in her chest.
What Tracy wants most though
on her thirty-second birthday,
is the promise of lighting just one candle
on the smallest, white circle of frosting.
Each month is a breath of hope
and a sigh of disappointment.
Tracy and her husband
wait for the joy of a baby
to fill their world –
to make their twosome
expand in heart and soul,
to become a rounded three.
Tracy sees a wave rise and fold under
in the deepest part of the beyond.
This makes her smile.
The sky is lifting,
as her mind opens
to hold the mist falling from above.
This will be the month.
The dream will grow,
if she creates the space
for little hands and feet
to kick against her warm, inner hearth.
Happy Birthday, Tracy.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
(From the book: Living Nature’s Moments – publication details coming soon!)
***
Dunes at Sunset
(Inspired by the photography of Pat Bashford)
Drinking the sun’s nectar
at the close of day,
I try to hold a honeyed, mellow taste
on my tongue.
We sit on the pancake soft sand of the dunes,
planning our future.
I giggle as my bare feet feel
the brush of salty beach grass.
This is our last North American sunset,
before we journey across the ocean
to the land of castles.
The sky’s palette paints
a future we can touch
and gaze at in wonder,
as if choosing artwork from a gallery.
A pale blue arrow amidst dark clouds
points to what we cannot see.
I choose this life with you.
Each stone on the beach tells a different story
and carries a different weight.
Every year spent crossing London Bridge
makes me sigh for a simple sunset,
yet we will share these adventures
for a lifetime.
Dry grass turns into waves of flames
on the beach.
Each year of life
is a grain of sand,
more exotic and sparkling than the one before.
I hold you in my heart
like the snapshot of a sunset
that will never lose its light.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
(From the book: Living Nature’s Moments – publication details coming soon!)
***
Enchanted Light
(Inspired by the photography of Pat Bashford)
Warmth walks down the road.
It meets me
where I stand –
waiting for a new day.
The furthest branches –
lit by fire.
Beginnings and endings
are the same
One depends on the other.
I am saddened by both.
Driven by this golden
heart energy,
life emerges
unexpected –
and lifts me to where
I see clearly
those things
that were left hidden
in my hand.
I connect to family
and find the lost pieces
of myself.
Drenched by sunlight
exposed –
my honest needs laid bare,
I have found home
where I left it.
It waits for me,
open handed,
without expectation.
My enchanted light
is the candle lifted up
by those who hold me dear.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
From the book: Living Nature’s Moments – publication details coming soon!)
***
Forgiveness
(Inspired by the photography of Pat Bashford, Sunset Over Marsh – Plum Island)
Virginia knew she was supposed to forgive him.
What else was this sunset for,
but a perfectly set stage of reconciliation?
Orange and red streaks
dripped down from the sky,
like the honey treacle topping to a decadent dessert.
How could someone remain angry
with all of this confection in the air?
He forgot her birthday –
again.
Virginia handpicked a card
and some porcelain treasure
in anticipation of his mother’s birthday.
His personal calendar befuddled him.
After words were thrown across the room
in a tangled mess of diction
and jettisoned consonants,
the sky opened up.
Virginia walked out onto the porch,
looking at the marshes,
but not really looking,
until she noticed the orange tornado
descending.
Treetops now glowing
like red coals,
Low-lying clouds –
the color of burnt yolks.
A single line of light
cast a reflection in the water.
All paths pointed back to the front door.
With her hand hovering above the handle,
Virginia took a deep breath
and listened.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
From the book: Living Nature’s Moments – publication details coming soon!)
***
Wisdom of the Wind
(Inspired by the energy portrait artwork of Toby Colton/Orit Chava)
Breath of life –
that blows energy into hearts –
you are the wisdom of the wind.
The eye of the world
opens up to love
through art.
I envision you today
in your studio,
surrounded by thick colors
and a waiting, white canvas.
I left you a smoky haze
of memory –
a comfort for your daily work.
It tunnels down
into the very depths of being.
I blow you a kiss
from beyond –
you hear my every whisper.
Fingerprints –
I am but a smudge,
a flair of brilliant light
sent up to the sky –
raising the flag.
At the glistening core
is a polished, pink pearl.
I hold it out to you
in careful, cupped hands,
and smile in wonder at your joy.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
Island Cottage
(Inspired by the painting by Irene Ruddock)
My little island is this cottage.
A sanctuary’s view of serene blues
and plush, mossy greens.
There is respite from the world here
and yet –
it is here that the world rests.
Ever-expanding circles
of cross current waters stir
just beyond my shores,
and the sea beckons to be sailed.
My spirit flows with the tides.
I have traveled afar
from the comfort of this cottage.
A seafarer’s journey in the mind
brings back a multitude of gleaming treasures –
sunset hues warm enough to bathe in,
and cresting waves that glisten like so many diamonds.
The sky opened up this morning
and the tawny red roof of my dwelling
grew darker with the gliding sheets of rain.
Dancing on the windows was
the reflected light from my soul’s next voyage –
a beacon to guide me home.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2006
(Published in the book Land & Sea: Poetry Inspired by Art)
***
Alone
(Inspired by the painting by Ted DeGrazia)
Two horses walk
into the milky white expanse of the desert.
One rider guides the path
that casting shadows lead.
A weathered red blanket rests
on his shoulders like a torchlight.
The sky is a pale turquoise
that has been white washed by the sun.
Alone – the rider bends forward
as if the very thought of his journey
weighs heavily on him,
curving his weary spine.
“I have been here before,” he thinks.
“My people have always walked this land,
and I shall be here again.”
This thought echoes
beneath the horses’ hooves.
A vibration moves the earth just slightly
until the ground hums a familiar refrain.
The rider is no longer alone.
History rises like steam
and he sees not an endless journey,
but a road filled with Light.
Pausing to gently lower himself off his horse,
the rider allows his dry, cracked feet
to be bathed by the golden earth.
It is shimmering with glinting flecks of agate and granite.
“I have new shoes,” he thinks,
“and now I will walk.”
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2004
(Published in the Summer/2005 issue of Yawp Magazine in Ottawa, Canada)
***
Star Island Apparition
She walks into the wind
with an effortless grace and a flowing skirt
that disappears.
She can not hear me calling.
She keeps her lover’s gifts
hidden in a cave.
This pirate love affair
binds her to a barren rock in the sea,
and she waits for his return.
Catching only glimpses
of her tattered clothes
and wasted limbs,
islanders look in disbelief at the
apparition that takes shape.
Every night Rosalee walks these shores
in search of love’s trophy,
hidden behind the jagged rocks –
giving nothing away.
Betrayed by spectators,
she looks askance with hollow eyes
and shows only the longing of darkness.
Many wish to follow her pointed finger,
to help her retrieve or protect
whatever ghost she has lost,
but she is the wandering spirit,
persisting in her futile search.
Her dress floats and waves in the air –
a sorrowful goodbye to things treasured.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2007
***
You Are Not Really Here
(Inspired by the Photography of Pat Bashford)
You are the breeze
that blows a white kitchen curtain
up high above the vision of a field,
while cornbread browns in the oven.
You are a pair of faded, leather sandals
with wooden beads decorating the toes.
They could take you anywhere.
You are the light that flies away
like lightning bugs –
the little sparks from a bonfire.
You are the mighty tide coming in,
challenging the shore.
You are the undercurrent
sending starfish into a spin.
Food will sustain you.
You have form within space.
Your body rests,
so that your spirit may travel
in the dreamtime.
You are not really here.
Your soul has another home –
your birthplace
and your resting place.
Cristina M. R. Norcross
Copyright 2008
(From the book: Living Nature’s Moments – publication details coming soon!)
***
The White House
(Inspired by the painting by Harriette Bowdoin)
To reach me you must traverse
green lichen and muddied trails.
Tangled branches hang over one another
in a canopy of question marks.
Both light and dark patches
guard the front yard,
caressing each strand of grass,
and bringing you closer to my darkened door.
My roof is an angry terracotta red –
a refuge for cover.
Otherwise, I am all white and gleaming.
The robin’s egg blue sky reflects
in my windows,
as the door’s frame welcomes your thoughts,
beckoning you inside yourself.
I am the white house of many who seek.
I am the empty house of few
who have the courage to fill it.
Leaves from nearby trees,
weeping their season’s end,
blow through my entrance.
I hold each one carefully,
like the folded wings of a sleeping dove
and wait for a whispered plea
or a quiet confession.
It matters not what the question is –
only that you have one to ask.I am the white house
set back on the hill,
waiting for you to come.
You have only to knock.
Cristina M. R. NorcrossCopyright 2008