Month: September 2014


Sometimes, after turning off the music player

At the close of a haunting song

It may still reverberate

An hour later

In my body and soul

Every nuance of the music

Even every word

Like soothing honey spreading, filling every

Torn and raggedy crevice of sadness and trauma


My mind remains melancholy

Yet better for the listening

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas


Autumn Equinox is unrivaled

Equal is the sun and moon

Time halved is perfection

As fog overlays celestial couples

Hazing the sky and all that it covers

Here is the day and here is the night

Non-discrimination of the dark and light

When heat and brightness suffocate

Darkness cools like a mother soothing

A fevered forehead with a wet cloth

Give us radiance but gift us

With sheltering shadows

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas



Let there be peace inside

My personal universe

Heart and Brain hosting an

Alignment of symbolic planets

Spinning inside the

Dark space that always struggles

To bring the light of truth

Then let it spread to others

Singular experiences

Singing into the aethers

Let there be peace inside

Let there be peace outside

Let there be peace…

© 2014 ViataMaja, Poetic Alchemy (Talking Blues)


Hunting was traded for an herb garden

Civilizing ploy, hoping to win

A matching diamond for the solitaire

Swapping solitude for an earth-bound twin

Herbs craved nourishment

Water dammed, yet how easy to cleave

Dead tree flowing through the stream

So grateful to finally leave

Feathers drifted from above

Monogamous birds nesting in tall pines

The air, blue backdrop for clouds

The sun and moon part of the designs

A fire of warming embers

Steadily began to grow

A fire raged between them

Faces now aglow

So many reasons to curl up and die

A landslide of unprovable facts

Yet holes of the thudding heart

May be sealed with paraffin wax

Loneliness has an



Keeps relationships afloat

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas


I no longer accept the myth of the soul mate

Although many do believe

They’ve met theirs

If so, very happy for you

But most of us

Have not even approached a facsimile

And so…?

So maybe a useful method would be

Serial soul mate searching by present age

See, I once believed in elemental increments and

That makes sense in pairing.

Beginning with Earth, when we’re young

We may be interested in

Materialism and safety

The type of mate who can supply these will keep us secure

And we can now live happily ever after

Time passes…

Um, looks like that didn’t work very well

Surely the second person is the soul mate

There’s no one better sexually, visually

Not much else needed

But we’re really only at the Water stage: emotions

Love is an emotion and undoubtedly this is love

And this time we will live happily ever after

Time advances…

Well, they say three time’s a charm

Here is the REAL soul mate, true?

Air: logic, intelligence

A mature way to match up

We’ve left the silly thoughts of fortune behind

Sex is great, but not ALL that important, right?

Intellectually, we once again know

That we will live happily ever after

Tempus fugit…

Ok, I admit it, I give up

I’m at the element of Fire: spirituality

Yet I don’t believe all will be perfect

I don’t believe in soul mates

I don’t believe in happily ever after

Actually, I’m not sure about anyone or anything anymore

Is that a by-product of wisdom or old age?

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas


Finding no relief in sleep

Fighting the hypnagogic images

Flashing behind my eyelids

Feeling a stranger, sleeping man, beside me

Frightening yet comforting image detaches

From the vivid spectrum


Face veiled

Flight of a

Full-length statue resurrected

From the coldness of alabaster

Fluttering into our

Flesh and whispering

Find your wind rose

Freedom comes

From letting it drift

Forget where it may land


Finger of


Follow it to the end of time

Fleetingly, I recognize her as a

Fantasy resembling Corradini’s Veiled Truth

Foggily sleep-deprived, it is probably part of the

Phantasmagoria that will not let me slumber…

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas




When all is gone, there is always the music

Whether young, naïve and brokenhearted

Whether middle aged and burnt out

Whether old with the horizon line in touching distance

The music is there with its promise

Beckoning us to keep on dancing

One more day

Just one more day

Until we forget

That we are brokenhearted

Or burnt out

Or at the end of the line

Music sings our soul to the aethers…


© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas



babayaga2 by russie virtuel


Burning sun makes for a Baba Jaga noon

Shining across the Carpathians and into Eastern Europe

Warming the people who invented me

I am the Grandmother of Fire

Face covered in red and orange ashes

My house on two chicken legs

Scratching in the dirt

As a wide band of water rushes between them

Gently tipping the mortar that serves

As a flying vehicle

The pestle is my rudder and

Tracks etched in the sky

Are swept away with a white birch broom

I, Fire Woman, toss out water-cleansed herbs

And the people see earth sailing through the air.


No, I do not eat children

That is another fairy tale

From another country

I do have companions:

White horse rider named Day

Black horse rider named Night

Red horse rider named Noon-Time Sun

They decorate the ceiling of my chicken-legged home

Cavorting around the painted firmament

So I do not feel closed in when forced to stay.


Like smoke from fire, though

I can sinuously escape through the chimney

Into the real sky

Absorbing more heat and light by day

More stars and coolness by night

Able to traverse the path

Sidewinding around the Galaxy

By map and compass embedded in my brain.

What is my purpose here?

Yes, you may ask

Fiery wise woman am I

Guidance is all I offer but

I prefer that you ask no questions

I age for each one asked

Only blue rose tea will reverse my reluctance

To answer, when you truly need help

Purity of spirit, and most of all, politeness count

But you must overcome your fear

To ask and then hear

Solutions to feed your burning need to know.


So many false tales about me

I am guilty merely because my preference is

To live alone

In order to think

And be myself

I do not like the image I see

Reflected through others

It is warped and thus murky

Not a true mirror

But no one cares to look deeply into

The mystery of Baba Jaga

Fire Woman, Wise Woman

Who was never a witch or even a clown

Just an old soul trying to translate the Earth

To others…


(c) 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas

(image by russie virtuelle)