‘…she rather needs keeping down than bringing forward; and then I think, monsieur—it appears to me that ambition, LITERARY ambition especially, is not a feeling to be cherished in the mind of a woman: would not Mdlle. Henri be much… Read More ›
inspiration
Happy People
Happy people don’t write poetry, they say Words and thoughts don’t burden their days © 2020 Erna Grcic
On a Cloudy Day
The sun appeared out of nowhere and cast its golden breathacross the furniture. It stroked the pillows,ruffled the plant’s rowdy leaves and upset the candle. I blinked a couple of timesand it was goneas if it had never been there… Read More ›
The Sea
Close your eyes and listen to the sea As it crashes against the shore Rocking the bones of long-lost ships Grinding mighty rocksInto smithereens © 2020 Erna Grcic, Beneath the Surface Comment: This is the first stanza of the poem… Read More ›
Beneath the Surface
I’m glad to announce that my long-awaited poetry collection Beneath the Surface is finally out and ready for pre-orders on Amazon! Having said that, let’s talk a bit about the collection itself. from ‘Stopping Time’ We’re waiting by the roadside.What… Read More ›
Vesna, the Goddess of Youth and Spring
‘Just look at those fools,’ Morana sighed, her dark eyes squinting at the cheering group of villagers gathered around a burbling brook. ‘I thought you’d get used to it by now, they burn you and drown you every spring,’… Read More ›
To the Surface
Hello my lovelies, it’s been a couple of months since I started my self-imposed hiatus and, I’m glad to say, it’s been quite a creative and productive period for me. Good news and announcements first: the project that I started… Read More ›
Perun, the Thunderer
Veles’s cackle skidded down the valley and bounced off of the mountain peaks. Perun clenched his hand around the flaming bolt and narrowed his eyes. Clouds, like a flock of sooty sheep, herded in the skies and grazed the tops… Read More ›
the Wind
the Wind is back with her willowy fingers and her icy breath she’s stroking the hair scratching the cheeks rustling the leaves like the pages of an oft-read book she’s stirring the smells in her grey cauldron summoning the memories… Read More ›
The Wait
My time drips to the floor Vanishes in the cracks Drunk by the thirsty wood Like water from a capsized glass Leaving me unquenched Letting the canyons on my face run dry As I wait for the world, the people,… Read More ›
