Nicole Jasik

Home    Biography    Discography    Poems    Pictures    Contact

POEMS

Chilled at the corner,
The mini-skirted woman
Escaped in a porsche.

Elephants

As we hold hands, a plastic elephant
arrives on my delicious drink.
Now, it sits upon your dashboard,
bright grapefruit pink.
You said the chairs in our coffee
shop look like elephants...
I smiled in silence, thinking
This will be my lucky romance --
I love elephants.

In my space

You're in my space
There's more to life
than chocolate cake --
I'd almost forgotten.

Am I a camel
that I can drink in so much stuff,
but still feel empty?
and you keep taking.

I'm binging.
my esophagus is sore.
I'm binging.
on your thorny love.

Let me find my pace
where I can give and take --
I see your saddened face.
you're in my space.

Self Loathing by Nicole Jasik

The winter wind slammed against the weathered window sash. 
"Not tonight!" I begged him as he took off his pants. 
You’re my wife, he coldly replied. 
I loved him once, when I still loved myself 

Blue-point by Nicole Jasik

Basking on the sun-drenched windowsill
the blue-point kitten
sits
licking himself,
a prelude in C minor,
preparing for his late afternoon meditations
and early evening dreams --
his every movement timeless and complete.

Photographs by Nicole Jasik

So I am caught at last
in my own malicious web.
A ghost from the past
left marks on my neck.
I am taking photographs
of the sadness on your face --
even if you forgive me
I will not forgive myself.

Fight by Nicole Jasik

I'd scratch your back
if you'd scratch mine,
but you refuse to.

Then I talk back.
You grow frown lines,
as I unglue you.

You're ignorant:
you think you're fine,
but you're an old fool.

You've met yur match:
it's I for I,
Yet still you fight me...

Why?

Green Apple by Nicole Jasik

The green apple bites my tongue.
I swallow the sour promise.
I have nothing to be but rotten --
There is no exit.

Before Wednesday by Nicole Jasik

Will it snow?
I hope it snows
before you go --
that would be nice...

It feels so cold.
December's cold.
You make goulash
with lots of spice.

I couldn't eat it
'cause I'm still sick.

You're calling me:

when will we meet?

Four little days
before your feet
pull away
on Wednesday...

Only Flies by Nicole Jasik

Sitting on a picnic bench,
I hear a buzz above my head.
It's only flies,

Much like you two --
I choose not to pay attention.

©2003 Nicole Jasik