Skip to main content


I’ve always been amazed by the fact that different hues of color flow through the sky so beautifully...

Although scientist have their explanation for the Northern Lights (Aurora Borealis), I honestly don’t think they have a full understanding of the many wonderful mysteries of our magnificent Universe. I also believe some things aren’t meant to be understood but instead enjoyed and appreciated.

Earlier this year I entered a short story contest with Iceland Writers Retreat (IWR). The winning participant received an all-expense paid trip to the Retreat. Unfortunately my story did not make it. Later IWR sent an email about another company that was also holding a poetry contest with the same prize. As of yet I don’t know if I won but I do hope so.

Since entering the IWR contest I keep getting messages about Iceland. I’m seeing pictures, documentaries, posts on social media pages or conversations that come up out the blue. I can’t ignore the strong pull telling me I need to visit even if I wanted to. In the process I’ve realized my initial introduction to IWR contest wasn’t a coincidence but actually planned for me. Somehow there is a connection that I haven’t figured out as of yet.

After seeing a poem and picture with beautiful hues on Catherine Ghosh’s page I decided to submit this poem. I don’t know where the image was taken but it was enough to remind me of what I keep seeing. I’m not sure what the future holds for me journeying into Iceland, but I know I’ll be there someday soon.

Northern Lights Guided Me
by Alyscia Cunningham

Feeling lost so looked within,
for escape into space out of the dim.

Needing guidance through the world,
silencing the drops of tears impearled.

Dropped to my knees in sigh of fatigue,
then dazzled by glows yearning to intrigue.

Lifting my head to confirm my belief,
the dancing hues gave me relief.

Magnificent green, violet, yellow and blue,
Aurora Borealis, it that you?

My Frown turned into a smile,
no longer in exile,
magnificence now surround my profile.

Thought I was alone,
yet you guided me,
as I seeked to find what I could not see.

Now covered in auras of confidence,
blankets of pleasured prominence,
restore me with compliments.

Stood up in assurance,
for all life’s occurrence,
was an attempted deterrence.

Before I begin,
I lift my chin,
and give thanks for Iceland.

I self-reconcile,
feeling assured that all the while,
you were with me as I hiked the long mile.

Northern Lights in my Horizon,
starts my journey into the Highland,
of a path forever brightened.

Alyscia Cunningham is an author, photographer, entrepreneur, speaker, wife, mother of three children and a creative soul. Through her lens, Cunningham captures and celebrates raw beauty, as she believes the media not only does a good job of focusing on our insecurities but also profiting from it. Her previously published book, Feminine Transitions, and upcoming books and documentaries are social-change projects challenging the "idea" of beauty. Alyscia started journaling as well as writing poems and short stories at the age of 10, and has has kept all of it all in her memory box. She says one days she'll have the pleasure to sit with her children and read to them some of her childhood writing. Connect with her on Facebook here, or visit her website. 

~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~


Popular posts from this blog

MY HEART SEEPS by Edith Lazenby

Courage is not only facing fear, but also looking past fear, to see what lies it tells and truths it saves...
Sometimes I sit at a computer in trepidation. The house trembles and I wonder what I will find. 
Truth is not a fact or a feeling. It may rest on love’s heart and walk with integrity. It may stand beyond humanity in ways we can only imagine. Truth can be solid as earth and fickle as wind. But a wind can know stillness and the earth can crack wide open.
Tonight I found a stillness in a crack and managed to balance there...

My Heart Seeps
by Edith Lazenby
I cannot hold on And I cannot let go. I walk a path I don’t know. I feel moonlight But cannot see Its orb midst The cloudy cold. My hands tremble. My eyes tear. My toes wriggle To grasp earth. I want to stand Tall in the light Yet fear shadows all. Inside I crumble Under the weight I cannot shoulder.

FOR THE SISTERS by Tammy T. Stone

These days, I’m finding it difficult – along with many, many others - not to feel disheartened...
I'm disheartened by the feeling that chaos has descended upon us, at the negativity and fear, the anger and reactivity, the violent spirit of animosity characterizing the times. It’s hard not to give in to the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, even as we cling to the strong conviction that it is our positivity and our love that will prevail.
Every crevice of my heart goes out to the suffering (and we are all suffering when one of us suffers), and my heart aches for the untold numbers of women around the world who are immediately and devastatingly affected by recent decisions to cut funding to organizations vital to their health and wellbeing, a movement that horrifyingly undermines women’s sovereignty over their own bodies. Words do not do the feeling justice.
It feels to me that the earth itself is overturning, that our fragile grasp of what is right and true, of our incredibl…

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…