Digital Poetry & Dance

 Her Best Dance Digital Poem

Distinctively unique, breaks the boundaries of the conventional.

Bold, audacious, different, artistic, open and truthful.

Her Best Dance is a poem from my book Sudden Clarity. It delves into the subject of womanhood and self love. The woman enters the mirror and creates a piece of art. Symbolically this is the act of making one’s self up in the mornings or for a special occasion.

Everyone loves dressing up. Although this is about my own perspective men could also relate to this experience. The poem searches for truth and touches emotions never felt before. It allows internal beauty to flourish and flaws to reveal themselves as the caresses of unconditional love invite more of these emotions.

They become the reality of her world and she gains confidence with a body that speaks. A mirror is the reflection of this. It shatters, she picks up the pieces, nurtures and dances with them in the most powerful yet elegant way she knows how.

I expressed the theme of a piece of art in the design of the video. I had an image in my head of how I wanted it to work and tried to emulate this using the knowledge and skills I had at hand. Next time I know I can do BETTER AND SINCE THEN, I DELETED THE VIDEO.

THOUGH I adored this opportunity to be creative with the digital world.

Sample Audio Full Version is available on Nimbit.

For more information and updates on my Book Sudden Clarity Click here.


The Reward Of Giving

Hand me downs
The gifts my mother returned
I gave with myself in mind
Years ago
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
Years later,
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.

Wide Open Eyes

I was excited to find this video while looking for a dance to go with my poem.

Enjoy the audio along with the video. Play them together.
Try playing the audio at different times or repeating it.

Lately I have been pondering about many issues in my life and those of others around me. I have also been thinking about things that perhaps most people don’t. These are the details that pass us by that perhaps would give more meaning to one’s life, but we ignore. Perhaps this ignorance is simply a way to feel accepted among the crowd. Or an intelligent way of relieving alienation. Whichever the viewpoint, it is a safe haven. It is an issue of personal significance that I’ve explored in my poems. It has been a long time since I wrote and the answer is hidden away in my poems because I cannot truly put it into words.

The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can’t help it.Leo Rosten

A Winter Butterfly (In German)

Ein Winter-Schmetterling
Färbe mein Auge
mit etwas, das ich sehe,
Erschaffe, eine Frau,
Eine Energie, zu sehen,
zu sein.
Leben und Schlichtheit
um es mir zu ermöglichen,
Details zu sehen.
Das verworrene Make-up
des Lebens
der Liebe
die ich bedingungslos sehe,
ermöglicht mir,
einfach zu sein
weil, einfach weil
ich eines schönen Tages
in die Höhe schoss,
wie ein Winter-Schmetterling!

Von Maria Grujicic (Malena)

A Special Thank You to Lena and Gala for translating my poem in German for me.

To read the poem in English, click here.

The best time for planning a book is while you’re doing the dishes.Agatha Christie


Frau (Photo credit: withrow)

Where Visions Meet Reality

soft VIII

The Prince
Is one she drew as a child
It was a picture encoded
Romance met
Searched for an image
Through her life
Until one day
A love
A man
A soul more profound
Than a mortal mind
It was then
Visions met reality
And womanhood pronounced
Upon waking the wind
Caressing her face
It was her character
A living being at play
A setting for a theatrical game
A comical place
We call life
Where visions meet reality

By Maria Grujicic (Malena)

Rose Of Determination

Walking, talking, moving
Pierced face and eyes
An old woman, a girl
Physically drawn to her
She walked over to her
And gently touched her
That night
The room became alight
Nurses, doctors, family
Safe in a world
And in its originality
A vacant bed
Across the view of her face
Left an empty space
In a fragile heart
And the strength of a rose
Released a determination
Of self creation
That she made her own
She left
An empty space
Before the time
That she would die
Of the originality
Of a world she made her own
Made her feel better
For a time
She left an empty space
Across the view of her face
Before the time
That she would eventually die

By Maria Grujicic (Malena)

The Desert Rose. Darwin, Australia

This is a poem that I wrote today as I remembered the time I was in hospital. I had an illness and I nearly died.

I was too young to understand this as a girl, and the impressions that stayed with me were the activity of people around me. I seemed to have absorbed the idea of death, and carried the impressions forth in my life and I eventually came to write this poem.

The poem ‘describes’, if such a word is adequate to use, the unspoken, spiritual relationship of an anonymous dying old woman sharing a hospital room with a girl who is fighting for her life. Two souls are joined as one.

When I write of ‘her’ I am referring to both the old woman and the girl, who is of course me. I was 13. When I refer to shelter and the ‘world she made her own’, this is the youth and innocence that protected me from knowing what was going on.

To this day I don’t know what happened to the woman. I presumed she died. I was deeply saddened by the old woman’s death and my potential fate. I didn’t know why it was happening, but it stayed within me subconsciously and I wasn’t able to comprehend it until I became an adult.

This is the audio of a prose that I wrote a while ago while I was living in Germany, related to this theme.

Now I’m in Darwin, Australia and my impressions are different again. The word ‘rose’ in each poem I wrote is used to mean the noun and verb of the word ‘rose’. For example, if you read the desert ‘rose’ as a verb, you will get a different meaning to the desert ‘rose’ as a noun. Both meanings are intertwined. The photo is of a desert flower found in the bush, not too far from where I live in Darwin. It is a symbol of strength and survival.

The Desert Rose

The only reason for being a professional writer is that you can’t help it.— Leo Rosten

A Winter Butterfly

Color my eye
of what I see
Make up, A woman
A power to see
To be

Butterfly Caught

Image via Wikipediof what I seeMake up, A womanA power to seeTo be

Existence and simplicity
To enable me to see
The intricate make up
of life
of love
I unconditionally see
Enables me
To simply be
Because, just because
On one fine day
I sprouted up high
Like a winter butterfly!

By Maria Grujicic (Malena)

A poem dedicated to my friends in Europe who are coping with minus zero degrees and the deepest snow.  A poem about womanhood and how the power of being is made more so with the essence of style and grace.

Read my poem in German. Click here.