Marko Antic

Marko Antic was born on October 11th 1980 in Paraćin, Serbia. He is an underground poet and writer.  His work is published in the fanzine “Green Horse” and Serbian and regional poetry anthologies.

LOVE

 She sends her scarf which she wore for a couple of days.
 It has her scent.
 She sends hers  favorite earrings, You’ll return them when You see each other.
 Carefully I'll put them back on her ears.
 She will send you a book, a tea, favorite comic or a medicine.
 Even if she sends money, don’t always make a fuss.
 Don’t be difficult.
 Burn her a DVD with her favorite movies.
 Tuck her in. Cover her feet.
 Be thoughtful.
 Be strong, also.
 Embrace her in the Batmanish way.
 She will get a haircut  the way You want it.
 And a new haircut will be godlike.
 Whisper that to her ear.
 And kiss her ear, face, lips, everything.
 Get drunk together.
 Talk.
 Skip breakfast at the Hostel.
 She’s  Your breakfast when You kiss her back .
 And you're hers  when she says she wants to once again.
 She’ll tremble with pleasure, at the end.
 Give her your valuable knick-knackery,  your boy's treasures.
 Give her your nape and your heart.
 Watch her sleep.
 Save her poems.
 Put them in Your pocket when You go alone for a walk.
 Make her smile.
 Listen to the beats of her heart.
 Make her being happy.
 Let her inhale You.
 And don’t let her dissolve. 

THE GLOOMINESS WILL PASS, AMELI

 
 And I'll wait for you.
 You will park your car on that same, our place.
 You will be late. I will always understand.
 And I will never be angry.
 You know that.
 And I will kiss you until the Purple candles burns out
 And while the phone battery withstand.
 You will talk and I will keep mine palm on your forehead.
 I'll tell you stories when You dive in me.
 You'll ask me what I'm thinking.
 Attracting of the souls and suffering.
 You drape yourself with blanket and light up a cigarette.
 You were wrathful by my uncertainty.
 It's chilly.
 We open a can of beer.
 It is difficult to cope with fear.
 Don't be scared, everyone is afraid.
 You ask me what I want, Ameli.
 I want to lie down and be silent
 Until you turn to me and whisper "love me"
 Until the pillow is lost on the floor.
 At dawn I open the window.
 You give me a toothpaste and take me to the sandwiches.
 You'll ask me if all of this was important.
 And we both know
 That it was.
 And I'll wait for you.
 You will park your car on that same, our place.
 You will be late. I will always understand.
 And I will never be angry.
 You know that.
 And I will kiss you until the Purple candles burns out
 And while the phone battery withstand.
 You will talk and I will keep mine palm on your forehead.
 I'll tell you stories when You dive in me.
 You'll ask me what I'm thinking.
 Attracting of the souls and suffering.
 You drape yourself with blanket and light up a cigarette.
 You were wrathful by my uncertainty.
 It's chilly.
 
 
 We open a can of beer.
 It is difficult to cope with fear.
 Don't be scared, everyone is afraid.
 You ask me what I want, Ameli.
 I want to lie down and be silent
 Until you turn to me and whisper "love me"
 Until the pillow is lost on the floor.
 At dawn I open the window.
 You give me a toothpaste and take me to the sandwiches.
 You'll ask me if all of this was important.
 And we both know
 That it was. 

2 thoughts on “Marko Antic

  1. I love the way your poems move fast and slow,sometimes hurling forwards and sometimes as if brakes were applied. wonderful.

    Like

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