3 Poems, for a Salty-Sailor-Suitor



I have crushed on a sailor named Zeke
His ‘Salty’ some havoc did wreak
On pink oh-so-tender
Defenses useless he rendered
With nary a peek or a tweak







On a tranquil sea
A salt and pepper Sailor
Quells this raging squall












Let’s sail
said the sailor
my vessel’s safely moored
in the haven of (y)our harbour
moon’n stars


Yours, fairly unfettered: Myla

February 12, 2017

Poetry and Photographs: All Rights Reserved.




“Stop,” she said…


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20161225_133507“Stop,” she said to herself! “Do refrain from accusing the accusers, from negating the Nellies negative, from despising the Debbies downer! And focus, on the freedom that comes with designing, with owning, your feelings, your thoughts, your life and your choices”!

“Know,” she said to herself, “that as long as you are breathing, life will bitch slap you, over and over again! Feel the fury, agonize in the pain, and then stand up to her like the fucking Warrior Woman you are.”

“Love,” she said to herself, “self above all, for it is not an act of ego, rather the only real survival skill you will ever need.”

~Marcela: Moving, at the speed of a woman Too Much!
January 02, 2017

Photograph: My personal collection. All rights reserved.

As is – III (reNewed)


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 And as the New Year tolls its bell silently in this tiny Bay
So my spirit whispers to the never-ending purga(s)tory in this 24/7 brain:
“shhh, we are whole again.”

It is not that I was in need of repair because you broke me, for I was never broken
It is that my voice was lost in the roar of the tsunami that was your disdain for me

And as a new blanket of white refreshes the grime of salt and snowplows
So renewed faith in self cleanses my heart of the detritus you left behind

It is not that I was the dung you believed to simply wipe off your sullied soles
It is the vehemence with which you shoveled your manure onto my person

And as the streetlight on the far shore casts a long glowing ripple across the lake
So another crack opens in my heart to allow the light back in

It is not that you succeeded in extinguishing it with relentless revile
It is that I erected shelter for my very core

And as I turn the plans for this, my most recent incarnation into fruitful reality
So I recognize your singular, constructive contribution to my life:

I choose not to forgive you for the myth of forgiveness as salvation is not my creed
I will, however, put you behind me with nary a thought to our dalliance, beyond these words:

I win. Not despite your efforts to destroy me, but because of them.
And I feel nothing for you.

~Marcela: Newer than this year.
January 01, 2017
Photograph: My personal collection. All Rights Reserved.


As Is… II (More)


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 And as the lake reflects nature’s finery back onto herself
So I reflect on the solitude I have come to crave

It is not that I wish to isolate from humanity, 
or reject the risk of a new paramour,
It is that I revel in alone-ness with the passion of a new love
for my own cosmos.

And as the stillness of the quiet-season brings peace 
to my beloved Bay
So the pain of my most recent faux pas is diminished 
in its tranquility

It is not loving one who cannot love that I regret
It is that I am wistful about having snatched up 
your well-baited hook of love-lies

And as the snow-laden branches dump their white weight, 
and spring to a more contented position
So the Warrior Woman I am exhales to release you 
and I find myself here:

I stand well-grounded and know that what you did,
only served to create this:
More big, more bold, more strong, more beautiful, more wise
more too much for some, but most especially, 
much more too much, for you.

~Marcela: As is. Only more.
December 27, 2016

Photograph: My personal collection. All Rights Reserved.


Of (S)ass and other Asses

badassI can be Bad-Ass,
quite often Kick-Ass,
with a strong leaning tendency,
toward wild noisy Jack-Ass.

Sadly, more recently
I’ve been a big Dumb-Ass
but rarely to never,
am I a C(r)ass old Tight-Ass.

At 55 plus,
I still have a great Ass,
And in the midst of life’s bitch slaps,
I remain S(assily) yours: mostly to always,
one Wise-Assed fun (L)ass… .

Grammatically incorrect and chomping at the bit for 2017,
and the next bit of Bad-Assery,
December 31, 2016

Image from: Google Images


Shine on you crazy fucking diamonds!


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I believe, fully, that no matter the outcome of the US election tonight, there will be dark dark times ahead, for all of us. When choice A and choice B both suck this badly, it does not feel as though anyone actually wins, least of all the citizenry of this planet. It matters not what bigger or smaller piece of it we call home, this impacts all of us, BIG. The only way I believe I can stay sane, not sink into a bottomless pit of despair, stay willing to live at all, in the midst of it, is to work harder than ever at being a light. As we roll full speed, and without having boarded this hell-train voluntarily, into the scariest of fucking scary tunnels eVer, I refuse, just fucking refuse, to capitulate to yet another despot, don’t care what genitalia they wear. Not even the invasion of the former Soviet Union into my homeland as I sat on my granny’s knee, felt this hideous, but I digress… I believe as fully, that it is incumbent upon all of us, more so than ever, to shake off the coal dust and become the fucking diamonds we are inside, shine with everything we all have, so that our children and grandchildren, actually have a future. The artists, the fighters, the poets, the writers, every day humans with humanity and humility, and above all, with spirits bigger than blather and all the money in the world, it’s time to take it back! One, single, bigger or smaller, thoughtful, good, kind, decision, choice, and deed, at a time. With all the Love I have,


Felix Unger had that shit down…


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Hey kids, yes, this is a bit of a tirade (prompted as so many others, by those double-edged swords called caring, cleverly disguised as assumptions), so exit now if you’re not prepared to read all of it. Or, stay with me and learn something new, about something you thought, you already knew about me, and quite likely many of the other warrior women we know and love, though I would never dare assume… she says with a wink… .

Begin tirade:
Just in case you’re one of the caring horde, and thinking I’m all sad and lonely out here on this ‘holiday weekend,’ nothing could be further from the truth.

First of all, various holidays, including thanksgiving, don’t mean a whole lot to me. Many of the holidays celebrated in the world, particularly in North America, are not my culture or part of my personal life philosophy and belief system. This does not mean that I don’t enjoy celebrations, traditions and the like, or that Universe forbid I am not thankful. Sometimes, they’re just not the same ones that others engage in. And sometimes, for different reasons, they are. Have you met my Christmas Tree collection?

Secondly, I am just as happy, or happier, single and/or living on my own. This has almost always been the case. For reasons that I don’t really care to divulge to an all-inclusive audience, I am a serial monogamist, and I engage in romantic relationships every now and then, you know, just like most folks.This does not mean, that I hate being alone, that I am lonely, or anything else that folks appear to construe about me and my way of life and being in the world.

Clearly, a lesser known truth about my life, is that I have been single, and/or lived on my own for about 30, of the 40 years since I moved out of my mama’s house when I was 15 years old, and I repeat, I quite enjoy it.

Lastly, this is not about knocking what you do, what you believe in, what you choose to celebrate, when, with whom, and how. This is about letting you know that assumptions are still as bad an idea as they were when Felix Unger, acting as Oscar Madison’s attorney, first coined that famous and well-used line, when you assume, you make an ASS of (yo)U and ME. Actually, you make a bigger ASS of you than me, I just get irritated enough to spend part of my ‘thanksgiving weekend’ doing that which I love more than most things, writing, so again, thankful, yup, uh-huh… .

And if you don’t know who Oscar and Felix are, 1) I’d feel for you but I can’t reach, and 2) there’s this handy gizmo called a ‘search engine’ on these here newfangled machines, that you can look it up on.
Clear? Great. Peace.
Thankfully Unfiltered: Marcela.
End Tirade.




The hardest goodbye... on March 16th of this year, my closest, most
loyal, most enduring friend Sue Graves, and David Johnson,
experienced every parent's worst nightmare. It is hard to believe 
that this vibrant young man has been gone for six months, and even
harder to scribe the ditty I promised at his send-off on March 24th, 
as I collected 'Miller-words' from all the folks who 
loved him so much... Miller Robert Clayton Johnson - December 21, 1988 - March 16, 2016
Dear Miller Robert Clayton Johnson,
in March we gathered on that day
our sorrow-laden hearts were heavy,
but we had some shit to say!

‘I had to stay alive to raise him,’
said your mama Sue –
‘no other ever would or could,
what else was I to do’?!?

You were a handful Millsie,
unconventional and true,
and then there was that awkward story,
of when you had to poo…

It went rollin down your pant leg,
then you gave that shit a toss
said ‘I, don’t need no old-man toilets,’
my kid still thinks, you’re the Boss!

Your shenanigans were legendary
hell on wheels and cars off roads,
same goes for your vocabulary
bitches assholes motherfuckers, shitty faggot-toads!

Your delivery was impeccable,
the timing most inglorious
but with a heart the size of Texas,
for THIS you were notorious!

Ryan Scotty Garret, said you’d give your shirt for anyone,
they just had to say they need it
many walked with so much more,
Millerish won out, where brain and logic ceded.

Solid, stand-up and insatiable,
an explosive combination
hilarious ridiculosity,
a most Milleresqe conglomeration!

Loving, kind and house-trained,
we got the real-life scoop
Chantelle sang high your chef-ly praises,  
yeah, Wiener Water Soup!

And then there was your name-sake
Jay Miller, Boston Bruins
Handsome devil just like you
Left girls’ hearts in ruins </3

So as today marks 6 whole months
since that darkest day,
I finally scribe this ditty
my heart in utter disarray.

I went to sit with other dead,
earlier this week,
thought about your parents
tears still rolling down their cheeks.
And then there’s all the sibs,
Robin Kevin Haleigh, spouses Kat Salena Steven
their hearts too are breaking daily
footing's still uneven...

For we're all uncertain, how to navigate 
this most unwelcome path,
and our feelings often vacillate
between broken pain and wrath. 

And though our hearts will but grow scars
never truly heal,
know that you, your life, your damned departure,
are one BigFuckingDeal!

~Marcela, </3 September 16, 2016.



As is.


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As is… 
And as the mist obscures the scars of clear cuts on the hillside
so the steam from my tea obscures the ache in my bleeding heart

It bleeds not because it is over between you and I
it bleeds because against my best intuition, I allowed you and I

And as the sound of the rain drowns the drone of regret  
so the heat of simple soup soothes my temporarily ravaged spirit

It is ravaged not because you found it Too Much
it is ravaged because I knew your opinion should not matter

And as dusk falls on the tiny Bay I call my (44th?) home
so solitude brightens the darkness in my psyche

It is dark not because you dulled the diamond I am
it is dull because you painted it with brushes of critique and counsel

And as I will always remember our time with bewilderment at self,
so introspection brings me here:

In this one thing you are correct: I am too much. For you.
Never, for those who love me. And self.   

~Marcela, as is, not as you need(ed) me to be.
September 7, 2016