Published Works

Please do not use any of these poems in your own work without my permission, as that is plagiarism. Do not submit them to journals under your name or copy them to publish elsewhere. Contact me if you want to publish my work in your journal, book, or use in other mediums and media.

Poems

Undone
Nicole M Zaunbrecher

Tighter, grip my bones
Seal freedom away
Cage the bird
Softer, lick my lips
Sweet words of delicate
Decadence in the curve
Of a young girl’s wrist
Frail and pale
Lighter, shine on me
Radiance and warmth
Smile with teeth
Wipe the tears away
She is fine
Look at me
The way I dip my head
My cheeks blush
My ears burn
Tantalized she dances
Victory, save me
Elegance and rosebuds
Decorate her like a corpse
Fresh as snow
Spring sorrows
Hear me now
Hear my words
Listen to me when I am speaking
The bird wants to be free
She is strong, but she is not okay
See me now
Use your eyes
Look at me when I fall
Grace is not in dancing
But the way her head is held high

Am I undone?

(Published in FLARE: The Flagler Review Spring 2014 Online Student Edition)

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Corpse Song
Nicole M Zaunbrecher

“Even the corpse hath beauty”—Emerson

Shadows cross the dainty,
Innocent,
Fresh face.
Across the dainty,
Innocent,
Fresh flesh.

Frail as if the mere wind
Could brush pieces of skin off
And carry them away.
Fragile as if the whispering wind
Could brush ashen pieces off
And carry them away.

The name is no longer remembered.
Shining white teeth, glistening in the sun,
Lips curled over, once supple,
Now withered away.
A darkness underneath,
A darkening beneath,
Long and red diamonds.

Lay me down, the dry bones cry, Lay me unto the earth,
For from ash I came and so to ash I return.
The grim underground
Comes to play within and among the remains
Of a vibrant life. Vermin from the ground say
Let’s play among the remains of a vibrant lie.

Jutting,
Piercing through,
That frail and fragile
Angelic
Ash and winter,
The bones sing their song.

Lay me down, lay me unto the earth.
For from ash I came and to ash I shall return.
We sing of the end,
The end of the begin.
We chime an ode to our brothers and sisters
Of whom we doth consort with.

Come play with us dear friends,
Writhing and dung-housed ones
That nest within our crevices.
Find your niche within our castle
And wall yourselves inside.
For this is the song

Of the corpse.

(Published in Running on Saint George Street in 2012)

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Je ne t’aime pas
Nicole M Zaunbrecher

Les roses sont rouges
Les violettes sont bleues
Pour être parfaitement ignifuge
I do not love you.

Some sing the songs of passion,
Like setting fire to the wind
And watch passion wither, ashen,
As it smolders to an end.

Others are more careless,
Giving their hearts away
Into the hands of a seductress
And are left begging for love to stay.

Bon Dieu, what is love?
Nothing I think of.

(Published in Running on Saint George Street in 2012)

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Love is the Crazy People in an Insane Asylum
Nicole M Zaunbrecher

Love is the crazy people in an insane asylum because of many things:
Like schizophrenics, it’s usually between two people- but may be one-sided.
Like compulsive liars, it will tell you anything you want to hear.
Love is up and down just as much as a bipolar disorder patient.
Love can also distract you, make you lose your focus, and make you do stupid or silly things like A.D.H.D.
At some times you feel locked within yourself or away from others as if in a straight-jacket in a white padded room.
You constantly have to have contact with your lover lest you forget they love you just like the Legally Insane have to take medication (a.k.a Happy Pills).
And finally, when you’re in love, you may not realize it, but you find yourself running around screaming surrounded by others who join you, laugh, or feel relieved they don’t have it as bad.

(Published in The Gold Edition by the American Library of Poetry in 2010)

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Shadows
Nicole M Zaunbrecher

The shadows of the dark moon,
Dance across your face.
The memories of my lost soul,
Left without a trace.

Screaming at the darkness,
That is held inside.
Sleeping with the sadness,
No one seems to mind.

The shadows sing with joy,
The shadows dance with grace.
The darkness of reality,
Fills me with disgrace.

The very ugly sorrows,
Of this lost and mourning race,
Meets death’s dark plight of shadows,
Bleeding face-to-face.

But the shadows went away,
And left me with the pain.
So now I feel my heart’s ripped out,
And it’s driving me insane.

(Published in Excellence by The America Library of Poetry in 2006)

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