Cristina M. R. Norcross - Poet / Writer
SELECTED POETRY
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!)
***
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.