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Quixotic Fusion to Spoken Poetry

Mute this video and listen to my poetry. Wait for the dancer to start moving before you start my first audio.

Let me know what you think?

My Not So Amazing Poem POW!

Last night, after dwelling in my subconscious for so many months, I forced a poem out of myself. Yep, it’s a not so amazing poem and as egocentric as this might sound, I know I can make it better… I have this vision of what I want to express, and this time round it’s not happening. And I see the cause related to the lack of training due to time. To write, one must have an abundance of time and belief that the spiritual self will reveal itself. No matter what you might be told or what I’ve told myself in the past, you need time. Time in abundance to just be, to do nothing in particular, to have an empty space in your head where you are devoted to this emptiness that drifts and bumps into bits that inspire a poem. Bits of emptiness that bump into the soul and listens with indescribable senses- the unconscious self. I know it’s a not so amazing poem because it lacks the essence of I, it lacks vision and it is too literal.

She died
Clothes thrown away
Turned to grey
Fronts of spaces
Body races
Beneath me
She couldn’t bring herself to try
No! I Cry
I can’t any more.
I block my ears and cry
Hide in whisper
My pain identifies
No! I Cry
Death defies
It lurks from her mind
Where clothes are thrown
Out of sight

And then POW! I woke up and wrote my poem again with soul.
Enjoy! And keep on dancing!


I forced myself to do it
I threw my clothes away.
I turned my head in abundant grace
And pictured a child at play
Fear of what could become of me
I forced my soul to simply be
But naked breaths on my defiant face
turned my clothes to disgraceful greys
I escaped
Fronts of spaces appeared
A body raced beneath my soul
I couldn’t bring myself to cry
Said Little Me to Mighty Me
“I can’t any more!”
I blocked my ears and tore my hair
to bits that hid in tiny whispers
Identifying details of my pain
I turned to see my clothes again
Direction denied my chance to roam
Death lurked deep below
A mind saw a vision of a heart that sang
But the only cure was a bell that rang
Alerting my soul to finally weep
I was finally released

By Maria Grujicic

My Big Love

Sydney, Australia

The weather permits me to dance
Sensations build through passing years
Rain grows and returns to the sky
Wind blows in sudden reply
I hide to avoid the ache in the sea
It bleeds as I dance
To rhythms of chance
I turned and saw
Broken glass was left in the sea
Nature’s miracle changed them to
clear, smooth stones
The bits healed like meditative clones
An anonymous dancer
And a subconscious heart
Led a silent breath to ask
Does he look handsome
When I dance?

By Maria Grujicic
Dedicated to my big love.

This was a poem that I started to write and edit before I went on holiday, and continued editing in Sydney. I romanced and tried to take my breath away from myself as I envisioned what the surroundings were telling me and expressed my feelings for them. My big love? My new-found love for Sydney, the air that I felt while I was there, and my amazing handsome husband who was there with me! I wonder if you can sense these emotions and impressions in the poem, and if you can relate to it in some way too.

Poems That Touch The Soul & Don’t Adhere To The Pattern Of Life



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?”

Have a wonderful day.


Originally posted on Greatpoetrymhf's Weblog:

See on Scoop.itPoetry for inspiration

The Guardian (blog)
How strong emotion summons poetry
The Guardian (blog)
I have seen the sun break through / to illuminate a small field / for a while, and gone my way / and forgotten it.

See on

View original

Smiling Eyes

Smiling eyes
with sparkle that touched my heart
and cried
please don’t say a word
for my happiness may die inside
I’m free
I’m running away
to the place
I want to be
his heart smiled
as the anguish of my words
rested in peace

This one’s about my father and it has a beautiful story to it.

Written By Maria Grujicic


Imouna Meraklou!
She cried
I’m doing this for you!
She cried
For your youth, not mine!
& my woes of a lost life
Failed pride
Absence of essentials
A mattress is all I have
& I sleep with a ritual for company
It’s not about me!
She cried
I live for you
But without you
Kind words fail dutifully
Sifting through clothes & jewelery
A mother and daughter
for company
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.

A Dominant Eye

Cat At A Parisian Hostel

Enter our private
I stop at the thought
& sleep
Lies are free
Within me
& 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 tells
It frames and becomes you
But it isn’t a favourite
Without a dominant eye

Nothing is forever
I discover
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
Magnify you
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.

Ohne Liebe, Ohne Tanz, A Love Poem

Tribal Fusion Dance

A Love Poem

I feel crazy and lost without you
I clean my essentials to find you
They breathe fire and hide from the rain
Priceless commodities
Once had
Agony rules my mind
Oh my diminished heart
It failed me once more
How arrogant to think the sensation would last
Without you, what is the feeling of love
But a myth of consolation
For my diminished heart
What is life, without you
But a mirrored constructiveness of a sense
Once had
Now relieved by the loss of a thought
And reality
That I am now without the person my soul
Always wanted to be

By Maria Grujicic

With Eyes Closed

A mother’s love
Keeps brothers close
Repeated stories of an unchanged past
Borders dream but are fixed in a place
Creating the present
Is the only control they can embrace
Reinventing the future desperately
Is it possible for souls to possess an eternally bonding intimate life?
Phenomenon disappears upon the onset of answers
Like a bird in a cage with a friend
they hang
Foolishly thought they’d be free
Feelings multiplied
Shared between two
One of which died
A mother couldn’t bear to see the other alone
Sent to the wild
She was sad to think where her son would be now
& all she could do was shut her eyes

By Maria Grujicic

This is a poem which is part of my collection
Poems That Touch A Soul.

This is a deeply personal poem that can also have meaning to you.
Comments are most welcome. :)

It Isn’t You

It’s OK to breathe
The wind will catch it and play
Don’t worry
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
December 2012

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?


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