Month: March 2015



The vibrations of the stones

Warmed the pocket of Woolf

Beating like a maddening heart

Urging her walk into the Ouse

Silencing her art of words

Words that brought so much pain

To the writer


The silent gas seeped out and

Swirled about Plath’s mane

Of thick hair hiding the pain

A life lived under a bell-shaped jar

Sealing inside pleasure-producing words

Yet allowing the invisible oozing of death

To end the writer’s pain


Rope of natural hemp, so easy

To wrap around the neck of

A suppressed writer suffering in her native land

Tsvetaeva’s words burned hot with honesty

No one else dared to listen

To one whose pain

Will always remain in her words:

“I know the truth…”


Sacrificial blood

Of poems, stories and song

Tidal wave of despair’s flood…


© 2015 ViataMaja


Image: River of Blood by x. xeroprodigy – DS Productions


swamp for sale 1

How can one sell my swamp

Splendid marsh oozing with pomp

The life seen through my fence

Is being shown as a pretense

A home for Sand Hill Cranes

Coons and possums shelter from the rains

Crows, vultures and critters of every kind

What habitat will they now be consigned

Florida gators looking for mates in May

Swarming dragonflies in turquoise play

Trees so thick, water sensed but unseen

Palms and Oaks add to the brown and green

Despite living in a tiny mobile home

I feel lucky having a private place to roam

The swamp duplicated in my photos and poetry

Reflects my esteem for the lovely congruity

Without it there will be no tranquility

How can I bear to live with no stability

The night sky grounds me as the swamp does by day

For sure I must consider moving away

If I lean against the sign it may fall

But what good a useless tactic that will merely stall

The need for others to populate every grassy blade

Life as I loved it is ending, I’m afraid…


© 2015 ViataMaja



I have chosen the site An Ever Changing Writer Am I by Mikial Millard.

He writes different forms of poetry that are my favorites such as  Quatrains, Petrarchan Sonnets, Blank Verse, etc.

He is a delightful visual artist.

His Platinum Sutra book is for gentle souls, written by a gentle soul.

Here is a link to one of his pages:

Mikial is also on Twitter @aeabiaarts featuring his videos, art, and his radio shows

I hope you all enjoy his work as much as I do!


Thank you, John White (Double U) for the idea of featuring our fellow artists!











“Trust me, come on

Walk on this red baby

You’re the star of my show”

When I do

You turn into

A magician

Pulling the carpet

Out from under my unsteady feet

Falling, catching myself (no one else will)

Smile hiding tears, fears

Why do I always fall

For the same trick?


© 2015 ViataMaja



Seems like the bees and birds brought us here

Some of us air-lifted by the stereotypical stork

Wrapped in a pink or blue bundle

Some of us ushered in by an owl

Predatory? Wise? Symbolism defined by culture

Some of us carried by Disney-esque blue birds

Twittering to the musical words: the promise of dreams coming true

Some of us thrown through the sky by pterodactyls

Into a maelstrom of volcano spurting hellish ash.


The mystery continues as we fight for survival

Depending upon the people locked away with us

In boxes of various sizes, amenities and care

Do we dare share what secrets occur in families?

Neither social class, race, religion nor color matters

The luck of the conveyance, climbing onto the back

Of the correct bird, determines our future

For good or bad, we are prisoners until mad, or old enough

To go into the world alone; no one can stop us then


Some of us rise above the nurture, or lack thereof

Even in the same family, differences abound

Sometimes that matters when the next generation

Hops helter-skelter on the back of a delivery bird

Cousins come via all those Audubon book descriptions

And nestlings begin their education sometimes on a higher plane

Moving from owl to stork or a majestic Sand Hill crane

Some of us slip from Disney-esques to pterodactyls

Giving in to the fire obstructing the air.


Life somehow is not fair, yet the beat always goes on…


© 2015 ViataMaja


dog playing violin unidentified from pinterest

“Awooooo” howl my dogs

As fire sirens scream

I wonder what they hear

As I struggle out of my dream.


To me, it’s just a siren

A cacophonic stream

But the dogs are distressed

And continue the sound’s theme.


Violins somewhat mirror

A human’s vocal sound

I wonder what I hear

When the music is profound.


The minor key especially

In our hearts does resound

How does melancholy manage

To seize us and astound.


Do my dogs feel the intensity

Invoked by a minor key?

The disappointment in life

When we discover we are not free?


World weariness is biological

Ceaselessly encouraging insanity

Musical minors—opposite of sirens

Both reminiscent of life’s profanity.


© 2015 ViataMaja


IMAGE: Unidentified Pinterest Image



In subtropical states

Weather situations

Sometimes reverse

So Spring is deliriously welcomed

Above the Mason-Dixon Line

But to me in swampy Florida

It is the precursor

To hot and stormy weather

And a 6-month unbearable Summer

Dreaded is the yearly move

Into the first sign of the zodiac

Even though an April baby,

I’m an Autumn and Winter lover

If only the sun would agree

To be eclipsed daily

Between the hours of 12 and 4 post meridiem…


Granted, Tavasi Suvo

Does have its high points

A time when all the great

Mother Goddesses are celebrated

From Astarte to the Virgin Mary

Rebirth is the theme for cuisine

Eggs, the promise of more creatures

Encouraging animal husbandry

Seeds, the potential for more plants

Including magical herb gardens

For healing the body and soul

Space reflects the New Moon

And vibrant Northern Lights

Families come together

In houses of the holy

Or around the dining table

Ancient rituals enacted

Although the true meanings

Are often wrapped in

Vaporous forgotten lore


No matter one’s feelings

It is a constant on our planet

The day and night of equal length

The sense that something

Of beauty or joy

Is waiting for us aching humans

To finally stumble upon the arcana,

To solve the mystery

Of life, as it is meant to be:

A world of love and peace…


© 2015 ViataMaja





When the first fish

Walked out of the water

On newly-formed limbs

The ferns and trees

Must have clucked

Blaming these new mutations

On vaccinations

An adaptive immunity

Present in the seas

On affected chromosomes

From chemical run-off

Into the water

Now that there is an

“Alarmingly” high incidence

Of autism,

And being HFA

On the spectrum


I cannot help wondering

Whether we are the

Next evolutionary step

Is it just time

For a change in humanity?

Like a new human

Who is unable to understand

The expressions on the faces of others

Yet is also unable to lie

Like a new human

Who seems alien

(So alienated we are)

Yet intelligent “savants”

Who have often brought

Gifts as important as Prometheus’

Fire to mankind

Will we someday be labeled

(Our genus and species)

By binomial nomenclature

As Homo autistica

Rather than Homo sapiens?

Just wondering…


© 2015 ViataMaja


M&K 1 sm px

Dogs want their breakfast

Here comes the boss, look busy!

Transparent pretense…


Bird barking is fun

Chasing squirrels in the back yard

See? Now please feed me!


I’m so wise to them

But their well-thought out charade

Deserves a reward


I grumble and cook

Disappearing scrambled eggs

Dripping on kibble


Loopy dog smiles

Are the rewards I deserve

How I love these guys…


© 2015 ViataMaja


Image: Max & Kali



It’s Irrational

Circumference divided

By diameter


Whether large or small

Circle growing or shrinking

Numbers stay the same


Flunked many a test

Not knowing the laws of Pi

Ugh, Geometry!


Yet, it’s pretty cool

A three point fourteen fifteen

Constant in our lives


Not much stays the same

Except dependable Math

Rational, to me…


© 2015 ViataMaja