Month: February 2015


red tide

Salt scent sending messages

From the Atlantic Ocean

A body of water that might be

The end of the world

Because who knows what’s really through

The vanishing point?


Fishy fragrance floating

From the green seaweed

Although the Gulf of Mexico

Has its share of redness

Also known as the Red Tide

Destroyer of manatees and fish.


Storm runoff pollutes

Sulphur Springs’ once-healing water

Filling dangerous sink holes

Sucking cars and people

Into shifting sands meant

To be a beach, not a city.


Hydroelectric power produced

By a Florida-Georgia dam

Where Lake Seminole and others

Contribute their fresh water

Lovely parks, lots of fish

Share the energizing of air conditioners.


Shallow-water well weeps

In my backyard, famous Florida aquifers

Water-filled layers of earth

Over 31,000 areas of known

Groundwater contamination

Better not get mine tested, ignorance is bliss…


© 2015 ViataMaja, WATER


*Title based on The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Taylor Coleridge


60's Peace Jewelry 3

Gypsies, Jews, Africans too

Vietnamese, Philippine, and Protestant (a few)

Catholics and even a Muslim or two

Hispanics and Atheists add to the brew

Also Gays and Lesbians of every hue

I feel so proud that my 60’s dream came true

This is my family as the genes pass through

New blood that brings to life a modern view

Tolerance in families is not new

A practice our whirling planet must pursue

It is something we all can do

Spreading DNA from me to you

Eventually, the world will be a stew

Realizing this is déjà vu

Unhealthy war, we can start anew

My flower power wish, love is the glue…


© 2015 ViataMaja

(Image: Some of my 60’s peace jewelry)

ROMANI PRAYER (March 22-World Water Day)

Romanian Gypsies

Dig, dig, send down the pipes

Share with us the

Holiness of water

A Madonna in blue

Sheltering inside Mother Earth

There for all to share

Yet, although we believe,

This saint eludes us

Poor Gypsies

Living on trash heaps

That are surely

The vomit of a sick mother

Who no longer has the strength

To bless us with her fresh springs

We poor, living as if in war

Send down the pipes

Pray for the rights

That belong to all humans

Except us…

(c) 2015 ViataMaja, WATER



(A Blaming the Victim Poem)



When he smiles

Celestial bodies whirl

Through personal space

As if I’m clad

In the finest of lace

Dancing to the

Music of the Spheres

But not five minutes later

I again realize all my fears

As the frown

Spreads outward from his face

A can of virtual mace

Sprayed, clogging, dripping

Choking me with my own tears

What occurred during

Those five minutes

Of marital ecstasy?

What sign did he see in me?

Daily he clenches fists

Not reassuring

As clouds cover the stars

Is it something I said?

If so, I wish I was dead

I can never get it right

Or figure out

The discordant song

Did I do something wrong?


The_fairy_tale-Walter Firle

Long months of trudging

Prince found the right house, at last

The glass slipper fit…

Among the briars

Prince finds a sleeping beauty

Amphetamine kiss…

Daughter sacrificed

Father brings her to the Beast

Soon to be a prince…

Rapunzel’s long hair

Is a ladder for her prince

Love will conquer all…

Little girl grows up

But walks into the wrong book

Never a princess…

(Image: The Fairy Tale by Walter Firle)


Heart Valentine Card

The beauty of love

Is its encompassing definition:

The appearance of a soulmate

Is a rare gift although

A spouse is somewhat more common

As are significants and partners.

But let us not forget

The others in our lives:

Roommates, dogs, cats, birds

Parents, siblings, children

Assorted relatives but,

Most of all, our friends.

Love is not a box of chocolates

Or roses (although nice to receive)

Love is listening

Love is smiling

Love is effortless grace

Love is free of resentment

Love is clicking sticky keyboards

While commenting

And liking our virtuals.

If we are observant,

We will see how many we love

And how many love us…

Interview with Poet Clarissa Simmens (Aging With Orion)

WILDsound Festival

The Natural Gazette of Poetry and Art reblogged one of my poems and WILDsound was mentioned in that issue. I was very intrigued by the excellent poetry published and since I believe that poems were meant to be read aloud (I always do that before posting/publishing) I could not resist hearing one read by a professional actor.

– Clarissa Simmens, on why she submitted her poem to WILDsound

    Watch AGING WITH ORION Poem:

Matthew: What is the theme of your poem?

Clarrisa: I have always loved the constellation Orion and have observed him through the decades. Although the theme is love, it is also about the connectedness of everything in the universe, how humanity truly contains the mysterious dust of stars.

Matthew: How would you like people to respond when they read or watch your poetry reading?

Clarrisa: I would hope they understand the beauty that is part of Earth…

View original post 301 more words



Hiking around eternity’s habitat

And doing other stuff like that

Met a man I really liked

Every morning I felt psyched

He says, “I’ll be on the bayou with you, bebe”

I shrug and say, “Yeah, maybe”

Hands me an iridescent white glass flower

Trumpet shape blasting out musical power

“This is my promise, I’ll return for you”

I shrug and say, “Hope you do”

He made Odysseus look good

The Greek returned like he said he would

But bayou man seemed to forget

And I just choked down my regret

Blew on the tiny flower each day

But no real music did it play

Lipstick ring left an ugly imprint

Like a bloody gash from its daily tint

Just a symbol of another broken promise

So hard to find anyone who’s honest

Seven years crunching around on mirror shards

Dreading the threatening wind in this house of cards

Weaving and ripping out the stitches

Like Penelope yet without the riches

No suitors, no promises, broken or kept

Trying hard just to accept

Linda Ronstadt singing that song

I answer her saying, “Never” and I’m not wrong

Stomping around swampy grass

I bury the trumpet made of white glass

Over my left shoulder I spit three times

Then chant a few of my Romani rhymes

Never again will I fall in love

Nodding when I see a sign: one lone dove

Never again


© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija

(Image: Broken Heart by crustycrab)