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Natasa Dolenc Oct 2011
so many crickets
willing to speak after the storm
beneath the soil
roots explore the wet blackness
searching for water
and a source of life
you can never tell
what the flood will wash ashore
the waves keep erasing the tracks
without a question
for their passion is infinite
and their love bigger than the sky
sometimes fog
makes you see things clearer
in a little booklet - video:
Natasa Dolenc Aug 2011
don't be fooled by this white dress
these curves and lines
in truth, I am wearing autumn
colourful coats, wind at the feet
waving dark golden hair
got caught in her adorable breath
her face blooming with wisdom
gracefully she walks in
bringing with her the cold
that goes into my hands
and I hide them
in the pockets of my coat
drying my hair in the wind
drinking from her well
thinking through her slightly
melancholic mind
for you see, I am always wearing autumn
Video for the poem:
This poem is included in my poetry collection Colours of the sea.
Natasa Dolenc Aug 2011
a tree abandoned by the forest
and overshadowed by the sky
knows this kind of loneliness
where no doe would seek shelter
and no bee share its fruits
seeds fall gently into the stream
where the wind gives no answers
and the clouds race forward
offer no shoulder to the teary twig
there the roots are small, yet they find
a way through the hardest of soils
and the driest of seasons
hide in a place where the fire
doesn't turn cold
Natasa Dolenc Aug 2011
I keep a ?
upon my forefinger
as I hold it up high
funny enough,
it gets lost
in the flood of !s'
yet it yearns for a .
or another **?
Natasa Dolenc Aug 2011
the side of you that you're most ashamed of
will come back years later, haunting your mind
        sun is sailing down behind the horizon
sitting on the porch, at the end of another day
I just can't distinguish one from the other anymore
                                            trying to make it count
running around the house, chasing sparks
each run bored me a bit more, knew every corner of the cage
you wanted me to remain silent, perfectly happy
that way you wouldn't have to deal with the words

a wingless child
left traces of tears on the pillow
drops of innocent affection
tried to glue the movie back together
I believed those faces would have something to say
         but as my face grew older
their attention withered
repeating old patterns
until you know them by heart
         pain is just a reminder
leaves when you start listening

my fingers found new depths of the pockets
         walking through those narrow streets
anxious stomach, anti-social behaviour
shouldn't have let the fear guide me on the way
         little child selling the dreams away
for a chance of buying fake wings
and maybe fly for just a day
Yet another poem from my poetry/photography collection Colours of the sea.
Natasa Dolenc Aug 2011
days roll faster and faster
things you knew and loved
have gone away or been replaced
pages written have gotten fewer and fewer
you acknowledge the change in the year’s number
but you're stuck at a point in the past
abandoned by the spoken words
mind free to run through the fields and far beyond
to bathe in the lake of your imagination
found yourself in a conflict with the form
for it is unmoving, stable and caught
but it taught you senses through which you feel
in search for a way in which you could be at ease
to grab the thing that keeps you from singing
and not to be a friend of shadows
there are so many stories in which you played a part
but left them before the end was written
in this world it only matters
how good you sell yourself
how good you please others
what kind of living is this?
when you feel most alive in your dreams
but the fear and expectations push you further
as the desire to return to the child
left behind gets bigger and bigger
This poem is included in the last chapter in my poetry/photography collection - Colours of the sea.
Natasa Dolenc Aug 2011
our feet move as million lights go on and off
in our bedrooms; where we keep each others
secrets; there are still corners of our skin,
that we haven't yet discovered; and it's strange
how your whole body fits on the windowsill
our eyes live a life of their own
judging all of our shells; with dreams in our
hands, yet still looking tiny to the world; our
lungs keep count of the steps we've taken;
stretching the hands above our heads; making
flying birds with our fingers; few inches into
the air they reach, makes us feel closer to the universe
our bodies lie naked in the soil
dancers born between the night and day;
catching the feeling of infinity on wide
open plains; there's no need to feel shame;
after all, the sun doesn't make any difference in
silhouettes between your body and mine
Video for the poem:;=share
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