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Best Poems Written by Mary Lynn Nakoneczny

Below are the all-time best Mary Lynn Nakoneczny poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

The Clock on the Wall

“The Clock on the Wall”

That clock! The clock with cruelty, unmovable.
Telling time to be forever in motion.
The ticking, a deafening sound. 
Marked by grime. 
Yellowed by generations, grown digital.
By generations choosing to be illiterate.
The face, weathered from gazing faces…from faces.
Forever burdened by the echo. 
TOCK! 
Each minute, reversing youth. 
Spinning hours that grin madly at the crows.
Birds destined to stomp divots into flesh.
Surrounding lids and lashes. 
TICK-TOCK!
That hellish clock. 
Stealing jewelry and lovers and future plans
Dreams given up in anguish to dead time, in the night. 
The second hand, proud, purposeful.
Its movement pushing the aged into graves.
Eternally passing hours.
Laughing wildly at years gone by.
Heckling decades…lost. 
TICK, TICK! 
The ticking of that god-damned clock! 
Mocking the genius gone mad. 
A shocking reminder of all that is forgotten.
That all will be…forgotten.
The unforgiving clock.
Moving time.
Time, a father, whose knee will be outgrown. 
A chastising father. 
Protecting nothing. 
Holding nothing. 
Nothing calm.
Holding nothing safe.
Nothing still.
Curse that clock on the wall.
On walls dropping picture frames. 
Loosened by rusty nails.  
Images of families smothered in broken glass.
The clock. 
TICK-TOCK!
Burning down homes that cradled infants.
With fatty folds and creamy dreams. 
The clock, convincing people to set alarms. 
Convincing people to startle the soul…
Into a brand-new day.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

The Marketplace

“The Marketplace”

Today the marketplace is open.
Ready with crisp linens for handfuls of gold.
Hordes of buyers stomp the asphalt
scurrying by and through to the next.
I have worn my smile.

My hair is wind-born.
smelling of burnt amber and roses.
My dress, summer silk, covers my flesh - 
Tones like island-bronze.
And I have worn my smile.

I banter over prices, politely.
Others haggle, fussing, who is next.
I, alone in my company, solo with passing
memories of your hands on my face.
I show everyone my smile.

Evening approaches, hushing the buzz of the crowd.
Memories of you sink into the dark...
falling with my head upon my pillow.
I remember walking the marketplace with you
and how you made me smile.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

SPIRITED GIBBERISH

"SPIRITED GIBBERISH"

Curtained eyes droop, closing, cleansing, visions. Feathering sunlight. Splintering waked-vivid lashes dreaming of the day. Eyes concealing retreat from here, to there, to what once was, weightless pestilence, plumy blights. Wind-born, am I, are you, are they? They are all, that is, this day, until then. The here-after, the eternal, evermore, ceasing to end. 
 
The sun’s high noon burn, midday life delighting indulgent nectar and poisons and berries, and hostile hide-outs. All, always, prayerful for sanctuary, pursuing salvation. Knowing nothing of a savior. Beasts entrusting the young to the wilds, wild-things, a wild thing-god, a thing, God, a god child, God’s child, in the middle dreaming wild. 
  
Dusk sets the night, pyres for light. Chilling the fragile coos of fragile new marrow. Soothing-long, longing for soothing. Behold, a sooth-sayer begotten in the latter, an elder, lending cryptic scribbles, scrawling epistles. Enchant the ebon skies, dreams besotted by the corrupt, beyond the pale. 
  
Prayers grasp at lucid kindles, sparking beacons, praise-dragged undertow. This display, playing age long into the moon-lit hours, into the starry night, night’s day, daydreaming. Dreams laying in waste, shouldering boasts, flanking fears. Pray, next for the embers to brighten the eyes sinking into the face of the darkness, shining light as we sleep.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

If You Love Something, Let It Go

Free, free, my love; You are free
to love as I love, or leave me.

Have I not nestled you in
every unbroken promise since

before the vow not to trust came
to fall beside another's name.

I love, love, love you. See?
I perceive it as destiny.

I folded in your Cheshire grin,
your tongue, a sword upon my lips.

Inside my soul, it is wrong. So wrong.
Praying still the night is long.

I will let you be released
first light in the morning.

Long ago since-memories of bliss
fade with each empty kiss.

You will walk away, my love
and so, to keep you, I give you up.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

She Reigns, Enter, the Queen

She Reigns

Tis not today which thee will fail, Harken! Harken! My harnessed veil.
Venom may sweep your gaze away. Travesty! Dare not to look my way.
O, no, but come now, lovers. Give my course gesture no bother.
Tis only, only grace bereaved, against thy spirits stripped. Bare of safety, many lips
split and garments torn from dead seas and mounts! Once there were lands of the devout.
Here, Your Majesty, inviteth thee, all who burn. Settle thine self in her welcome reserve.
This, be one and yon only command; Your Queen says, DANCE! 
Yes, yes…tis exceptionally grand. I grant you favor, Greet ye to balance.
Your Quenn, sits pleased and induced to laughter.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

The Sparrow

“The Sparrow”

In this moment I am a sparrow,
intent on guiding my landing below.

I am a raptor plucking green seeds,
awaiting the rapture to truly be free.

Gently I perch upon a branch,
inhaling sweetly, my lungs collapse.

I, like the tree, free of leaves
am aged, worn, less feathery.

Yet, I hold wisdom you cannot see.
I hold wisdom instinctively.

I am a sparrow on a dying tree,
destined to simply be, be, be.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

REMEMBER

"REMEMBER"

Remember. I remember the pain passing away.
I watched as the pain numbly died to itself, to the
deaths I have caused,
shredding softened hearts.
Remember. I remember the past,
Holding out hope for mere laughter.
At this, I laughed until I cried.
Hope…
An unfortunate weak child.
Cancer, I believe;
I did not cry for Hope, this time.
Remember. I remember I spat-
promises to love-
countless promises spoken in vain.
Abandoned vows, dropped on fault lines.
All-my-fault-lines
But, too, I remember…. I…
I remember being invisible and you could not see.
I was trying to draw you closer.
Hoping to lay you down.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

The Routine

The Routine

I woke today, teeth like ground gears.
In my dreams, I can fly far above the tear-soaked sequoias and
caked roots of all that grow, flying far away from their togetherness-
My waking, a cold mockery unveiled.

I move along the hall, shrouded in fractured memories 
bound by copper, wood, cheap plastic from the "somewhere" store.
All the while, with clenched jaw.
Somehow, today will be different.

My arrival at the coffeepot, one more item
coated in yesterday's guilt and a sudden flashing glimpse
of the cup shattering against the wall;
Strangely beautiful in the morning hue.

I think my gums are bleeding, 
intent on pouring out the very last of life I dare to cling to.
I ponder a reason to enter 
the exit door...

A stranger I might meet,
an opportunity, yet unseen, or perhaps
a moment of serenity.

The couch is caving in, resembling a carriage
made for innocence and infancy.
I feel the need to be cradled.
I decided to stay indoors today.

All day, a day of rest-
much like before and before that.
Nobody came knocking today.
You did not come knocking today.

I watch the sun go to sleep without a word being spoken.
I will talk in my sleep.
I will cry out to a room banished from all companionship;
Unlike the flowers teamed in rows.

I am uprooted,
wilted,
and laid out to dry.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

THEY

"THEY"

A planet spins into another atmosphere. 
Pricked by the gloomy voices of, they. 
They drown all that is tranquil. 
They smother one another. 
They complicate moments of splendor. 
They are always here, and they hate others. 
I know sometimes I hear them.
They hear nothing. 
They do not fear you. 
They do not hear you. 
They turn blasphemes into unholy truths.
Refuse to lend an ear.
Do not run. 
They know the chase.
In a blur, I pray to be safe from they.
I am too far for them to love me. 
Too quiet for them to hush my mouth. 
They will one day burn the world.

Details | Mary Lynn Nakoneczny Poem

The Haze

THE HAZE

Shuffle, I shuffle through the haze; Stopping just short of the light.
I reach up, only stabbing with splinters the tiny fractions of time.  It's this, this, this, and that.
The pieces fall and gather fat-ten-ing, their bits at my feet. 
I pick up the pieces and, here, hold this. 
It's not that heavy, a buck-twenty, at best.  Hold on. Stay there. I'll go get the rest.  This is my pain, my failures, and the tears I've cried. 
That's my rage, Now I'm weightless. 
So, I'll go dry-…out on the beach, a skinny bird.  While you hold that, I'll go have a word, with someone that said they loved me
but turned into a demon. - "I love you! I love you!" 
They didn't know the meaning.  Now, as I walk to the edge of the ocean, I wonder; Why my ribs are poking out… 
My feathers, no color. 
The waves of darkness knock me down. 
There are sharks beneath. They circle around.
But I'm too sick to nourish them, so with disgust at my smell, they just let me go.  I begin to spin in a pool of hatred! 
I’m a bird that's trapped, like the others in cages! 
I'm not in shape to stay afloat. It's like pulling and pulling and pulling a choke on a machine made of diamonds from which blood was shed. 
Families tore apart and some that- ended up dead. 
I think I've given too much- it's all black!  I'm too ing tired. 
Can I have some back?  See, I need that stuff, it's mine and I've learned, to sift through the ashes 
from bridges, I've burned. 
Looking for things to build a foundation…fly above the waters or
shine through the hazes.