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Nienna Colle

The most distressing thing about life is its impermanence, about death, its permanence.

  • Last seen 6 hours ago. Member since August 28, 2006.
  • I am a 17 year old girl from New Mexico (United States)
  • When I'm not writing, I'm cogitating.
  • I have 776 comments, 112 archived poems

My Poetry

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  • Brian Balzer : Hi Nienna, on September 28
    I stopped by to sign your book. I can't possibly be the first. You've been here to long. Well none the less. If you have time stop by my homepage and take a stroll through my Poetry Garden which is like a philosophy. It's not very long. Maybe not as long as some of your poems. Then if you would sign my book I would be pleased.
    Read ya later,
    BKB

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Comments

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  • on [ Beginning, ] by RAWright, on November 1
    Mr. Wright,
    I wholly like this. I think it is succinct and eloquent, and also universally true without triteness. How often that happens (how unfortunately, even so). There are many ephemeral lines that lend a sense of personality to it, and also some more concrete places where it manages to come together enough for an audience to read and understand. It is the perfect mix of "this happened to me" and "this is something that is true, exists, universally, etc." and that is where the most worthy poems come from, in my humble opinion. It is not "I held her, she slept by me, we were happy" it is rather "in a moment there is time forever and also it is fleeting" and I like that sentiment. Your line which begins "Each breath..." reminded me very much of a line from "Hallelujah," the song that everyone seems to know but very few listen to (I reccommend the Jeff Buckley version if you haven't heard it), and it packs a punch. However, the last bit is what does it for me: "To be whole is to be found in the other half." It sounds like Neruda, and Lorca, and countless others, timeless, before and after, like Petrarch, even. That is a line worth saving, and if it outgrows this poem use it elsewhere. I'm happy to see your work, though.

    Hope all's well, come see me for Thanksgiving!

    L

  • on Untitled by Colin Night, on September 28
    Colin, you are growing up.

    I am so astounded by the maturity in this piece, my friend. You have always been leaps and bounds ahead of the pack, but this is more insightful than most fifty year olds will ever in their lifetime be. What happened to you?! I hope it was not a bad experience, and if it was I hope that you learned to grow from it. I have all good faith in you.

    This is both liberating and terribly sad for me, as an image of a selfless person finally needing to leave. I feel that even though the last line is bitter and melancholy, there is a sense of victory, for even though a situation often takes a path we do not like, your protagonist, it seems, will not dwell on that and make it a failure. I feel you would have used less inspiring words for the feeling if it were one of despair. That in itself is a great thing for me to see; I remember a time when your poetry had such little hope. They were beautiful, but when it comes at a price I am wary of it.

    I hope you are well. I am proud of your work, and the maturity you've reached, and I miss getting to spend "time" with you, but I trust that you are continuing to pass on your knowledge and virtue. Be well, Colin of the Night.

    Nenni