Denise Nacnac: Favorites

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.

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Tulips Are as One

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Nathan Squiers

Tulips Are as One

Two lips met in the forest,
Sighing South and heaving North.
They prayed with words unspoken.
Drinking in the dried tears of sated loneliness;
Chewing 'pon the swelled pride of ancient lusts.

An ethereal plume drives the dew-soaked petals closer,
Until neither root nor stem can discern their place.

Two lips met in the meadow,
Singing East and chanting West.
They pursed with anxious anticipation,
And parted with baited excitement,
While the ghosts of lovers surfed upon their hums.

Two lips.
Are as one.

#love #kiss #metaphor #flowers #nature #romance #romantic #spring #lovers #symbolism #floral

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Question by Lang Leav

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Elizabeth

Question by Lang Leav

“It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me.
‘Do you love me?’ I ask.
In your hesitation, I found my answer.”
-Lang Leav

Not my poetry, but I related so much that I wanted to post it.

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Worthy of Love

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Wíštfûł Wáñdêręr

Worthy of Love

Look into my eyes
and say with me,
*"I am worthy of love."

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

First day of spring

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Matsuo Bashō

First day of spring

First day of spring--
I keep thinking about
the end of autumn.

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Jilted

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Sylvia Plath

Jilted

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and ****,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

A Dedication

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Anna

A Dedication

She lends her pen,
to thoughts of him,
that flow from it,
in her solitary.

For she is his poet,
And he is her poetry.*

-Lang Leav

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

The Fury Of Sunsets

Apr 2014 Denise Nacnac

Anne Sexton

The Fury Of Sunsets

Something
cold is in the air,
an aura of ice
and phlegm.
All day I've built
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it.
The horizon bleeds
and ***** its thumb.
The little red thumb
goes out of sight.
And I wonder about
this lifetime with myself,
this dream I'm living.
I could eat the sky
like an apple
but I'd rather
ask the first star:
why am I here?
why do I live in this house?
who's responsible?
eh?