Memory Lane

When no one but the passing time hears,
I occasionally shout out the words of longing.
When the confused sky is my only witness,
I wander down the path of hazy memories –
That’s where we bump into each other
And linger in something
That was too hopeless to last –
Yet too rare to ever fully disappear.

© Noora (2016)


My poetry lacks passion these days
No, it is not because of your scripted silence
It is because of me
I am a different poet than I was
Hundreds of sunsets ago

I don’t miss the morning of our love
When stormy skies seemed hyacinth blue
Obstacles turned into poetic possibilities
And the dawn broke in your willing smile

I don’t miss the evening of our love
When loving you was like chasing a sunset
Each day a new opportunity to despair
I don’t even recall the night of the cruelest silence
I have ever had to experience

There is no need to immortalize the past anymore:
Kisses mixed with the taste of my love
And a hint of yesterday’s vodka –
Or you at your most vulnerable
When I touched your bare skin
Like my pen used to touch paper

My poetry lacks passion these days
No, it is not because of your scripted silence
It is because of me
I am a different poet than I was
Hundreds of sunsets ago

There is no need to water wilted flower garden
I am shedding parts of me
In preparation for the new bloom

© Noora

* This is actually an oldie – just found and finished it.

Dear WordPress friends, how are YOU all? I’ve missed you!! Sorry for the absence – my focus has been needed elsewhere. I’ll be taking the time to read and comment your work in the coming days. Love & inspiration, always. – Noora.

The Point of No Return

I have always been a stargazer
Admired mythical constellations
With wonder and awe

But now
There is no need
To gaze up the night canvas
In order to seek
Infinite beauty

If somewhere is heaven
It is right here
In your eyes

They were the beginning
And will be the end
Of me

So, please
Take my hand
Let’s dive deep
Into intimacy

We have already crossed
The point of no return

© Noora (2010)


I promised to share old stuff until I get something new written. This poem poured out of me more than six years ago.

Love, peace and inspiration,
– Noora

Between the Lines

Between the Lines

Just as a touch is never
Merely physical
A poem is never
The bare verses
You absorb

It is what is hidden
The lines

Warm and shivering syllables
Hesitation and ache
Desperate gasps of air

The ultimate truth
In the silences
Between words



© Noora (November 5th, 2014)


I’ve been on a long break from work, yet I haven’t finished a single poem. Okay, I blame the UEFA Euro2016 tournament. lol.

Inspiration can be found anywhere/everywhere, but sadly I don’t feel my work at the moment. I need to give it more time. In order to continue writing/blogging, I’ve decided to start sharing unposted poems from 2009 to 2015 – no matter if I like them or not. Ha ha.

Peace & inspiration,

– Noora

Image credits: © Teija/moodphoto.

Perfectly Still

Perfectly Still

The day
Refuses to die
Evening birds
Quietly comfort
The wordless sky

Bittersweet concerto
Inspires me
To write
My own
But some poems
Are better left

The day
Refuses to die
Raindrops lie
On sleepy flowers
Perfectly still
Like sorrow
Almost forgotten

© Noora (2015)


Photograph © Teija Härmäaho / moodphoto.

Teija is a close friend of mine and fills my world with endless inspiration. Her photography is pure poetry – without words.

Check her out on social media: FB, IG, WP, and web page.


P.S. I’m on a long break from work and will be able to read/comment more regularly again. Please, be patient with me as I catch up on your recent posts a blog at a time.



“I am never alone
Embraces me

Out of endless possibilities
I have chosen you and a few others
To share my journey with.
I expose myself to you – completely.
I explore the depths of you – comprehensively.

I am a quiet observer in the world of voices.
I listen more than I talk, I write better than I speak.
I am weird and complex, but you help me turn my flaws into virtues.


“Every word I’ve written
Every path I’ve taken
And the song I’ve hummed
During the way
Has carried me to where I belong.
All I had to do was listen…”

I hear every little word you hesitate to say aloud.
I read you between the lines and interpret the tones of your voice.
I sense when things are wrong, even when you don’t realize it – yet.
It is not intentional – I have no control over it.

Intuition is my compass.
I look for signs but follow my heart.
My inner world is a mix of sweet chaos and perfect harmony.
I live in a dreamy utopia, yet in my truest reality.


“I don’t need to admire the starry sky
In order to find infinite beauty.
If somewhere is heaven –
It is right here in your eyes.”

Passion is my fuel in life;
I feel deeply, I live for poetic madness and I fight for injustice.
I fall in love rarely, but when I do:
It is unconditional, forever, and beyond.

Sensitivity is both my deepest force and greatest weakness.
My sorrow is not lyrical, it is silent hopelessness.
I seek first to understand, then to be understood.
Sometimes I get lost in the middle.


“In between
These lines
I will live
And die…”

I am my own worst critic, perfectionist, and maybe I analyze too much.
I often feel like I am not living up to my full potential.
I am stubborn and I don’t always know how to give up or let go –
Even when I know I should.
I am not afraid of risks, “what-ifs” scare me the most.

I live in the moment laced with yesterday’s magic and tomorrow’s dreams.
I write to discover, I write to uncover. I write to live, I live to write.
Poetry is my heart’s language and it’ll be my legacy.

© Noora (2015)

* I am an INFJ based on the Myers-Briggs personality type indicator. I wrote this random piece a long time ago. The quotes are from my old poems. I challenge you to take the test and maybe even write about your own personality type. 🙂

If you want to know what I’ve been up to lately, feel free to read the comment section.


Skin on skin
Yet not close enough
Breathing you in
Until you
Like mist
On forgotten valleys
Where birds
Preach about
What-ifs and used-to-bes
Where the crescent moon
Reminds me of
How your hands
Loved me
Before dawn
Where a ghost choir
Overplayed love songs
Where loneliness
Embraces me

© Noora (07/2015)

Note: I never meant to be away this long, but life has a way of changing directions suddenly. 🙂 Please, be patient with me as I catch up on your recent posts – a blog at a time. I’m trying my best to focus on reading/commenting your work more regularly again. It’s great to be back. I’ve missed you!! Love and inspiration. Always. – Noora

Too Early

Like impatient swans
In early spring
When the snow was still
Unwilling to melt
You flew into my world

Just a little too early

While my eyes were still
Desperately staring
At the horizon
Of my fading dreams

Like a serendipitous light
In midwinter
When the sun was still
Struggling to shine
You invited me to surrender

Just a little too early

While I was still
To fly

But I do remember
The possibility
Of a new journey
When the swans
Arrive again
Just a little too early

To survive…

© Noora (03/2015)


In celebration of my blog’s 3rd anniversary, I decided to re-blog my most viewed poem, which happens to be Afterglow. To comment or “like” the poem – please click on “view original”, thank you! Inspiration, love & good madness. – Noora

Echoes and Reflections


In the afterglow
Lying here
In our memories

How it felt to be
An inspiration
For your
Creative fingertips

How I melted
Like soft clay
In the hands
Of a dedicated sculptor
As you made me
Your secret masterpiece

And yours alone
I still am
In the afterglow
Of our love

How it felt
To unfold you
With my love
One layer at a time

How my hopeful lips
Stole your breath
And made it ours
In the kiss
Of truths
And expectations

And still tonight
I breathe our love
When I escape to the place
Where yesterday’s spark
Still flames
Where unwritten poems
Sensuously moan
Where you stay
With me

In the afterglow

© Noora

Image source/art work: © Leonid Afremov.

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