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  May 2014 Denise Nacnac
Megan Grace
i
a  m
positive
that   you
are  made  of
s  t   a  r   d  u  s  t
and  water  balloons,
oil  pastels  and  the
collecti­on          of
settled     sugar
at             the
b o t  t o m
of      my
c u p s
o     f
t e a
Denise Nacnac May 2014
1, 2, 3...
Everyone chorused gleefully!
People scatter
Others chatter.
'You again!', I said
Then you cowered your head
Denise Nacnac May 2014
Spoiled her appetite in the ruins of Italia
Deemed devotion in a town in India
Found balance in the two-thousand-mile-long Indonesia
To heartily ask for Grace and refresh her life's page

That is what Liz Gilbert did
What can I say, it is a brave act indeed
I, too, want to explore this wonderful abode
As to marvel the life from the mighty Above
Denise Nacnac May 2014
The keyboard's noise
The reader's squeal
The churchgoer's prep
Compose, make up
the killed mountain top
  Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac
SG Holter
Poet, be not afraid.
There are far worse things than
Bad poetry.

Keep writing; like a child keeps
Drawing with the purest of
Disregards to likeness.

The more stones you turn, the more
Gems you produce.

The more ink you rain,
The more gracious your written
Children grow.

All flexing builds muscle.

Rough bricks form castles.

Even Dalì carved canvases to shreds
And started anew
Not caring too much.
Not caring

Too much
To keep painting.
Denise Nacnac Apr 2014
I saw your polaroid
I got a little paranoid
I flee into the vast void
Found my last hope was toyed
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