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About Literature / Hobbyist Natasa DolencFemale/Slovenia Recent Activity
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Aftermath by Natasek Aftermath :iconnatasek:Natasek 17 3 A time we shall not know by Natasek A time we shall not know :iconnatasek:Natasek 5 1 Ollie by Natasek Ollie :iconnatasek:Natasek 3 3 Growing by Natasek Growing :iconnatasek:Natasek 0 0
Literature
Belong
this ribcage is a door behind which hides an ocean
sounds of the waves escape the mouth
I moved around the kitchen as carelessly as I used to
my body independent from the wanting
these egoistic creatures upon which I stand
never made enough use of their strong fibre
rocks and water have left marks on my skin
earth fighting a battle on the surface of our bodies
like bubbles - when you poke it, the air gets out
I belong to you, a bit wearied and bent
diving through each dark coloured leaf
I push my palms against the starlit sky
space between the earth and the moon is mine
I wish you'd make a constellation out of the marks on my skin
and fall in love with each one of them
I wrote it in capital letters so you would know
the adjective that was missing; like your voice
that used to remind me of who I really am
a tree extends across my back as wings would
there is a place on the back of my neck
where you can kiss me and make the branches shiver
so I can feel the eternity rushing through the v
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Literature
If only you would love the rain
She cut out her heart and buried it in the depths of autumn,
left with a heart shaped box of leaves.
She said: »It's a long way back into dust.«
and in between the words you could hear the trees whisper.
She looked at herself in the mirror,
felt like the reflection echoed into infinity,
through glass and camera she admired her shadow;
until someone with a heart of snow touched her skin.
Her body shivered under the cold and stumbled down at his feet.
She saw a glimpse of a boy she chased down the streets when they were kids.
Clenched her thighs and bit her lower lip,
for all the mistakes and bad decisions she has made.
His presence was exhilarating, chilling to the bone,
with a touch he brought snow and frost to her heart shaped box.
She was spell-bound; the cold was her first weakness.
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find a reflection of his.
She asked: »How can someone be and not leave an echo in infinity?«
The next hand that touched her, had a heart of flowers.
Sweet scent
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For love by Natasek For love :iconnatasek:Natasek 2 0 Young hearts by Natasek Young hearts :iconnatasek:Natasek 0 0 Live on by Natasek Live on :iconnatasek:Natasek 0 0 After the fall by Natasek After the fall :iconnatasek:Natasek 4 6 Easy on the inside by Natasek Easy on the inside :iconnatasek:Natasek 1 0 Mare by Natasek Mare :iconnatasek:Natasek 2 0 Piran by Natasek Piran :iconnatasek:Natasek 3 0 Shade of my heart by Natasek Shade of my heart :iconnatasek:Natasek 1 0 Shy by Natasek Shy :iconnatasek:Natasek 23 6 Fog by Natasek Fog :iconnatasek:Natasek 4 2

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Watchers

Ever since I published my first poetry collection, I've been on a publishing or sharing lockdown. It's unfair to say, but I'd do things differently now. Last year hasn't been as productive as the years before, poetry-wise, and it all went in another way. Well, poems went another way, can't really say which, but I don't feel about them as I once did. Now I have expectations, I measure them, judge them... Really, it's a wonder that some still get written. I mean it's not like I didn't judge them before, I did, I just didn't let my judgment influence them... at least not as much as now. It's hard being critical of your own writing, on some level I want to make sense, and be clear, but on another I don't want to give too much away, and keep some sort of mystery and let the reader find, whatever he/she will find. And when rereading a poem, sometimes I'd feel, like it's really simple, and clear and a month later I wouldn't even know what I wanted to say. So...

This past weekend I wanted to write again. I put the song Death is the road to awe (soundtrack from one of my favourite movies, the Fountain) on the repeat, and my mind went into a zombie-like state after two days, yet I couldn't sqeeze a poem out of me. I did write some bits and pieces, like usually, some I have no idea what they wanted to say. But it's a really great song to get you in the mood...for writing and thinking. (And Oh, my God, I miss dancing!).

Slowly I'm starting to focus on my next poetry collection. I have an idea in my head. It'll be a bit different.

You'll be able to find more here: natasek.blogspot.com/
  • Listening to: Pink - Try
  • Reading: P.R. - The name of the wind

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Natasa Dolenc
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Slovenia
Just another soul that doesn't know better, but to create. Ever since a child, had to express myself in whatever form I knew. Often misunderstood and scorn. Today my three main forms of expressing are photography, poetry and painting. If I had to choose between them I'd say I enjoy writing poetry the most, because it's intimate, and I can use colours of human emotions to paint a picture. But they are hard to comprehend, sometimes even for me. Words come from different sides, sometimes all at once, other times as few verses. Or should I say, poems write themselves.

In photography I like to make some concept out of a photo. I like abstract/conceptual/expressive.

Always thinking. Less talkative. Patient. Stubborn. Love to be alone. Think differently. Deep love, emotions. Romantic.
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:iconpajunen:
Pajunen Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2014
Happy Birthday! Cup Cake 
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:iconadsarta:
Adsarta Featured By Owner Nov 2, 2014  Hobbyist Photographer
Happy Birthday! Be healthy, very much loved and always inspired, dear friend :sun: :hug: :cake: :party: :sun:
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