Upon waking up today I started thinking of a quote
my subconscious made and I wrote.
Last night I used this quote
as the subtitle of my next poetry book.
Upon waking up, it occurred to me that people may not understand it or perhaps misinterpret it, and I discussed it with my husband. Upon doing a quick internet search we bumped into a video showing a pattern on a screen that moves in a predictable way.
I searched again, and I bumped into this article a blogger posted, that seemed to answer the subconscious questions I had about my poetry. These are the ones I don't use words to ask. They stay in my mind because they belong to my feelings.
It's interesting how easily people repress their emotions. Such an allowance is not good for the soul, and thus answered my question again. I must trust my feelings. I wanted to use my quote because it is a personal belief that comes from my subconscious, the way my poems do. My soul needs this avenue to allow my soul to breathe. It is the one place I don't have to adhere to the pattern of life. Hence, the subtitle of my poetry book.
"subconscious editor for such vigilance" is a quote from the guardian that made me think about the way my emotions and subconscious self edits my poems. And I recall commenting just yesterday in response to Frederick, a friend from my Poems That Dance Facebook page, that I wouldn't want an editor to edit my words. It would be like editing my emotions and pulling myself apart.
As a teacher, I regard myself a poet and dancer first. I feel that people, like myself, are misled into thinking one must be perfect in an art to announce what and who they believe they are. The place your passion is, is you.
I love this quote from the guardian. If you're a teacher or/and a parent, and/or poet, you will too!
"I don't think kids need to learn whole poems to acquire the lines that will matter and mean most to them – the idea behind the recently launched Poetry by Heart campaign – they just need people who love poetry around, teaching it and reading it and being unafraid to be messily moved by it in front of them. These are some of the bits of poetry I'm made up of. Which are yours?"
Focus on now
Plans for a new day can wait
Never lose grip of what’s you
Continue on an unpredictable path
But remember there are many
Some are near and others are far
Let go of the past
Time will tell
& all of what is entering my mind
And you are free
This is a poem about freedom and being captured by one person.
I’m doing this for you!
For your youth, not mine!
& my woes of a lost life
Absence of essentials
A mattress is all I have
& I sleep with a ritual for company
It’s not about me!
I live for you
But without you
Kind words fail dutifully
Sifting through clothes & jewelery
A mother and daughter
Relevant only upon death
By Maria Grujicic
Copyright 26th February, 2013
Meraklou is a woman who has style in life and fashion. It’s a word in Greek and knowing this will greatly help with interpreting the poem. This is a fatal end, though I assure you happiness is set in disguise. As always, likes are appreciated and impressions are most welcome. Feel free to ask questions, as long as it is respectful, there is no right or wrong in poetry.
Enter our private
I stop at the thought
Lies are free
& a dominant eye
A la life!
You are my mirror
I can only tell time with you
A role that finds peace
& a key
It frames and becomes you
But it isn’t a favourite
Without a dominant eye
Nothing is forever
A collection of others
I smile to hide
Tears swell in my reddened eyes
I feel like a fool
I don’t have the breath to dream
Why do they separate the trees?
Entering the small details of life
I remind myself
It’s not forever
Without a dominant eye
By Maria Grujicic Copyright February 25, 2013
This is a poem that was inspired by my good friend Gala Yakovleva. It is a reflection from a thought she had of the dominant eye.. perhaps one of a cat, which always seems to be awake. I know it has been a long time since I’ve written a poem, but it was worth the wait because I thought about this poem long and hard. And the timing of polishing had to be just right, after pondering on the words I filled on my notebook. I wrote the ideas of this poem whilst in Paris and revised them upon return to Darwin, Australia.
A proposed star for Wikiproject Constellations. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
A STAR was so bright,
And it turned into the sun,
Then when it burned the parts of the surroundings,
It dimmed a little,
And then a lot
Until it spread like a graceful moon
Softly silver-toned clouds camouflaged into the darkness of the night sky,
And the water ran, it sparked the light,
That turned to a flame and it also ran,
Music was heard from below,
And the star retreated to fall gently,
So eloquently to tireless sleep.
Maria Grujicic Copyright 2011
This is a poem I wrote a while ago. I wrote it to soothe the soul after a tragic event almost eventuated. It was a kind of thank you that the bad times past and I was able to think ahead into a brighter future.
Hand me downs
The gifts my mother returned
I gave with myself in mind
In idle youth,
My mother’s gifts
mirrored the woman I always wanted her to be
grace, beauty and womanhood
I coaxed her with the possibilities
A life she deserved but sacrificed for me
Relevant only now
I opened my eyes
When gifts became hand me downs from my mother who recognized
I gave a part of me
She kept me preserved and new
Sorted in scattered bundles all over the floor
The dresses, skirts and accessories
My mother had no occasion for
My reward and anguish of giving to someone who sacrifices
Is a lifetime of hand me downs
to my mother who holds my memories
I’m at her mercy
It takes courage to write honestly
When one is open to the unknown
Though I do
because happiness is a habit I try to share
upon a swift turn of my head and a glance
Who would have thought
I finally wore the clothes a real woman was born to bear
By Maria Grujicic
This poem is dedicated to my mother, the most giving soul I have ever met. Like every giving soul people do take advantage, but even so she is so beautiful that it doesn’t seem to affect her. Her goodness lives on in her, she has grace, she has virtue, but she has her true self. She has lost her youth but she is still alive and strong. And she gives this power to me.
It was you I saw from afar
an angelic phantom
I needed not the magic of sound
to feel the beating in your heart
it trickled and flowed,
it caressed my soul
and in time I became soaked in you
The softness of essence appeared,
dripped slowly into the years
I grew old with you
The candle remained in my head
You were the living light
You weaved yourself deep in my soul.
In the half-light you were my whole
words appeared in your ever-lasting glow,
your gentle words encompassed me about
They held me closer than close
I could smell your melting eloquent scent,
feel your softness
& life of the unknown
I am speechless
You are my gift
Forever you will be
My living breathing beauty
who showers the heavens above
with sparkling light,
Your sublime presence and anonymous love
Has enough for everyone
It’s OK to breathe
The wind will catch it and play
I won’t misinterpret the indication it creates
It’s a symbol, a part of you
that anyone can manipulate
It isn’t you
By Maria Grujicic
This is a poem part of my new collection, Poems That Touch The Soul. I titled the book this way because I am often told by people that my poems touch their soul. They do the same for mine as I write them and read them again and again.
I have a few more that I wrote and haven’t shared just yet, I haven’t had the courage to publish them on my blog.
Let me know if you’re a poet, what kind of poems do you like? I find most of my readers are anonymous. This is OK.
It takes courage to write, and honesty isn’t always the best way because it isn’t easy to write honestly when one is open to the unknown.
This is why I love deeply the simplicity of a poem.
A poem is like philosophy, open to interpretation. Or at least, this is my view. It has eternal, timeless and universal meaning to life. My poem, It Isn’t You illustrates this thought. Do you see it in the poem?
The number of kisses differ
with each daily dose
It has to be so
for an authentic glow
in her cheeks
in her eyes
She leaves unforgettable replies
to be seen, to be felt
is the cause of variety
An authentic glow
unforgettable replies are left unknown
by the spices of daily life
Written by Maria Grujicic
26th December, 2012
This poem describes an authentic kiss and the kiss itself as an authority on the daily spices of life. My poem addresses kissing experiences, what makes them unique?