MARIETA MAGLAS

 

Tanka For A Beautiful Child

 

The child knelt to pray.

The pure flashes of her eyes

Hide dreams she can't find,

While this candle-lighting time

Make visible her sadness.

 

The Toy

 

This comfort object is something tangible.

It is only an object, a long-time gift

from his mother. Even though

he is aware now that it is merely

a symbolic security stuff and

he still finds some psychological solace in it.

Though he knows it belongs to another space,

he still wants to touch it.

 

This is where he moves into transition.

He sees an illusion, the first "not he" of himself

in the mirror for the first time in his life.

 

After so many times adjusting

to other circumstances,

he must now adjust to this one.

 

He comes to the realization that

he has always been

his mother's object,

her toy, and

her newborn.

 

Together with his mother, he has been whole.

 

This material object resembles a creature.

It has an amusing name that reminds him of his childhood.

 

Represents joy and happiness.

He must get relief from his fears.

 

After the accident, he is sad and

somewhat shocked. He is even unaware

of his own survival. As he drifts off to sleep,

his only true desire is to travel to Antarctica.

Never once has he been there.

 

He feels as though his mother is far away.

It was through that car—

which he was driving—that he learned of her death.

 

No way would he do that.

 

His mother has always seemed to him

like an extension of himself.

 

 

He had heard that it is possible

to relocate all the white bears to Antarctica.

He needs his white plush toy right now.

 

This is a comfort object, this toy.

 

Microscopic Souls

 

Love-filled tears

welling up in the eyes,

speaking touches,

life as rivers flowing away,

wisdom as hydrogen dancing

in the deepness of the rocky clay,

 intimacy, intense emotions,

souls like eye-catching

Ping Shan flowery gardens

in a need for the sunlight,

wind blow, river flow, tight embraces,

and fully formed convictions;

embryonic souls to become

the light,

the happiness,

and the hope.

 

 

 

 

 

Villanelle Lyric Poem for Children

Poem by Marieta Maglas

 

There is the fifth day of December.

The Saint brings us Holy gifts of love,

Now, the fire is but smoke and ember.

 

Refrain:

 

My darling, wherever you may be,

Come with blue bows for my Christmas tree!

 

This night, even the moon is limber,

And Saint Nicholas comes from above.

There is the fifth day of December.

 

Refrain:

 

My darling, wherever you may be,

Come with blue bows for my Christmas tree!

 

Make me get sweet dreams to remember!

These angels of love don't ever shove.

Now the fire is but smoke and ember.

 

Refrain:

 

My darling, wherever you may be,

Come with blue bows for my Christmas tree!

 

This waiting time and scents of amber!

I need you as the hand needs its glove.

There is the fifth day of December.

 

Refrain:

 

My darling, wherever you may be,

Come with blue bows for my Christmas tree!

 

Come, breathe sweet kisses in our chamber!

Love flies around like a milk-white dove.

Now the fire is but smoke and ember.

 

Refrain:

 

My darling, wherever you may be,

Come with blue bows for my Christmas tree!

 

In our little house, made of timber,

Angels come, great is the light thereof.

There is the fifth day of December.

Now the fire is but smoke and ember.

 

MARIETA MAGLAS