Reading the poems of Nina Zivancevic, one is tempted to think that she was born a poet: her words and symbols flow so naturally that they seem to be an inherent part of her thought process, as if she always spoke in a flowing, perfect cadence. Whether she's exploring a memory or some philosophical concept, she does so with a grace that is rarely seen in poets of any era. In one of her poems, she fears that she will be charged with sloppy emotionalism, but her writing style is the sort of perfectly-crafted romanticism that will endure for a long, long time.
Nina lives and writes in Paris. Drop her a line at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Nina's works here at Unlikely Stories are:
At the Frick