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Nena Miljanovoć, Loznica

Nena Miljanovoć, Loznica, R srbija

 

Nena Miljanovoć je rođena u Šapcu i živi u Loznici.

Po obrazovanju je psiholog.

Piše  ljubavnu i erotsku liriku, poeziju u dijalektu , poeziju u prozi, pesme na etno teme.

Bavi se prevođenjem i prepevom sa slovenačkog i makedonskog jezika na srpski.

Književnica ima dve objavljlene samostalne zbirke poezije, pesme u  trinaest zajedničkih zbornika i u tri antologije poezije u kojoj su autori iz više evropskih zemalja. Objavljuje u književnim časopisima i elektronskim medijima.

Član je SKOR-a i Udruženja pesnika Srbije i CG.

PTICA DODO

 

Čovek je ubio retku pticu

I niko ga nije ni prekoreo a kamo li optužio

Jer

Nije ni ličilo na ubistvo to zanemarivanje

Sama se ubila izgladnjavnjem

Odbijajući zrnevlje

Jer nije više bilo sa njegovog dlana

Smešno pernato ništa

Ko bi pomislio da voli na život i smrt

Sa srcem koliko lešnik

Prosto

Prestala je da kljuca

I samo pevala svoje sve kraće trilere

Udarajući grudima i kljunom o zid tišine

Iza kog se zatvorio…

 

I kad je uginula

Brižljivo je počistio hrpicu perja i bacio u vetar

I upitan šta je sa pticum i pesmom

Hladno je odgovorio

Nisam ni imao pticu

To što ste slušali

Bio je strainski napukli vergl

Prodao sam ga antikvaru

Za pohabanu knigu ljubavne poezije

Neke anonimne pesnikinje iz moje prošlosti

Više zbog njene biografije nego zbog poezije

Zamislite

Ubila se otrovnim mastilom

Iz tačke na kraju hiljaditog stiha o meni

Tako piše u njenoj poslednjoj pesmi pod naslovom

Ptica Dodo.

 

ZABORAV

 

 

Zlostavljaće me zaborav

Oglušiće se o moju molitvu

Da te ne pamtim i kad pamćenje popusti

Kad mi se lica sina i oca izbrišu iz oka

I pomešaju u svesti imena i vremena

Mučiće me pobrkane misli tvojim imenom

Sve što sam imala imenovaće tobom

Sve što sam gubila opet ćeš biti ti

Rasplinut i zgusnut u svemu

 

 

I neću znati zašto plačem

Nemoćna ni da te se jasno setim

Ni da te bar mutno zaboravim

Samo ću plakati sitnim staračkim suzama

I svi će misliti da sam senilna

Jer plačem zbog žutih maslačaka u travi

A svaki će mi biti sunčevo ugašeno oko

I imaće tvoju neugašenu zenicu

 

 

Čak i kad maslačke i mene raznese vatar

I kad i sama postanem samo trava

I tad ću plakati za tobom

I slivati se sa rosom niz vlati iznikle iz mene

Dokle poslednja travka na zemlji ne izumre

I dok me zemlja ne raspe u prvobitnu prašinu

I prahom mojim

Titraće zlostavljač (ne)zaborav

Jer ni život sada

Ni smrt tada

Ne mogu mi te više ni dati ni uzeti

 

 

UMIRALA SAM JA VEĆ

 

Kad me ugasiš

I nestanem iz tvojih misli sasvim

Neću nestati

Već sam ja umirala

I znam

Postoji se i posle ljubavi

Sva kad budem umrla

Naći ću način da ti se nađem

Očajnom

U noćima nemoći

I u danima bez sunca

Kad ni senka sadašnje muškosti ne budeš nikome

Samo otvori knjigu mojih pesama

Biću tu

I bićeš mi

Poništenog od svih

Potvrdiće te moja ljubav

Neumrla i kad nestanem

Znam

Umirala sam već i sve se gasilo

Samo ne moja misao

Raspršena kao svetlost Svemirom

I ti u njoj

…………………………………………..

Nena Miljanovic, Loznica, R Serbia

 

Nena Miljanovic was born in Sabac and lives in Loznica.

He is a psychologist by education.

He writes love and erotic lyrics, poetry in dialect, poetry in prose, poems on ethno themes.

She deals with translation and singing from Slovenian and Macedonian into Serbian.

The book has two published independent collections of poetry, poems in thirteen common collections and three anthologies of poetry with authors from several European countries. He has published in literary journals and electronic media.

He is a member of SKOR and the Association of Poets of Serbia and Montenegro.

THE BIRD COMES

 

The man killed a rare bird

And no one even rebuked him, no matter what he blamed

Because

It didn’t even look like the neglect of murder

She killed herself by starvation

Reflecting the grain

Because it was no longer on his palm

Funny feathered nothing

Who would have thought he loved life and death

With a heart as much as a hazelnut

Simple

She stopped ticking

And she just sang her ever-shorter thrillers

Kicking his chest and beak against a wall of silence

Behind which it closed …

 

And when she died

He carefully cleaned a bunch of feathers and threw it into the wind

And questionable what about the bird and the song

He answered coldly

I didn’t even have a bird

What you listened to

It was a strained cracked vergl

I sold it to an antique dealer

For the worn-out book of love poetry

Some anonymous poets from my past

More because of her biography than her poetry

Imagine

She killed herself with toxic ink

From the point at the end of the thousandth verse about me

This is how she writes in her last poem entitled

Bird Dodo.

 

FORGOTTEN

 

 

I will be neglected by oblivion

They will hear my prayer

Not to remember you even when memory goes bad

When my son’s and father’s faces are erased from my eye

And they mix in name and time consciousness

I’m bothered by confused thoughts by your name

Everything I had will be called by you

All I lost again will be you

Dense and condensed in everything

 

 

And I won’t know why I’m crying

I can’t even remember clearly

Not to forget you, at least

I’ll just cry with tiny old tears

And everyone will think I’m senile

Because I cry for the yellow dandelions in the grass

And each one will be my sun-extinguished eye

And it will have your uncut pupil

 

 

Even when dandelions blow me over

And when I become only grass

And then I’ll cry for you

And to dew with dew down the rolls sprouted out of me

Until the last grass on the earth goes extinct

And until the earth crumbles me to the original dust

And my powder

The abuser will (not) forget

Because neither is life now

Not even death then

I can’t give or take you anymore

 

 

I was already dying

 

When you turn me off

And I disappear from your thoughts completely

I will not disappear

I was already dying

And I know

It exists after love

All when I die

I’ll find a way to meet you

Desperate

In the nights of powerlessness

And on days without sun

When you don’t even shade the present manhood with anyone

Just open the book of my poems

I’ll be there

And you will

Undone by everyone

My love will confirm you

Still dead when I’m gone

I know

I was already dying and everything was going out

Just not my thought

Scattered like light by the Universe

And you in it

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