Back to Life


I’ve spread my wings, I’m lost in flight,

and through a limpid sky I soar.

And, far away, I see a light …

the purest white deep in its core.


Weightless I feel … so free, so strong …

a sensation that’s so surreal;

it’s in this place I now belong …

the past now’s thrown to the unreal.


The more I fly towards what’s bright,

the more I’m feeling the longing.

My hearing has now joined my sight …

from it there’s someone who’s calling.


“Is it you, Mum?!  Is it you, Dad?!”

I turn into a child again.

So many things were left unsaid …

“Wait for me … I’ve caught the right train!”


Alas … now what’s this distancing?

Why is the light moving away?

What’s this force that my flight’s straining

and why I’m not allowed to stay?!


I turn my gaze.  Not far from me,

an unearthly thing’s getting near.

I can’t believe what my eyes see …

a firebird, for me so dear!


The creature to me’s coming close,

its ardent flames it’s unleashing;

its majestic elegance glows,

its supreme splendour it’s reaching.


And now I wonder why it stopped,

at a distance not so remote.

With curiosity my fear’s topped;

a sensation I can’t demote.


The bird is staring back at me;

it is starting to change its shape.

A male figure … it couldn’t be!

I cannot help but watch and gape!


An angel’s right in front of me,

but I’ve never been so skeptic!

Instead of shouting out with glee,

I’m frozen with thoughts so hectic.


The angel’s stretching out its hand,

“Come, dear … on Earth you’re not yet done!

Come with me … you must understand

that your chances are close to none!”


My heart suggests to take its hand …

my mind is yet another case.

What should I do … where I’m to stand?

On which side should I play my ace!?


Hark … from my world another voice,

mesmerizing like a mermaid’s.

Attraction’s big … I have no choice …

I have to rush before it fades.


It’s coming from the home I know,

from whence the angel’s taking me.

I hear it clear, though it’s so low …

to my dilemma it’s the key.


Now compelled to go no farther,

I choose where I’m last invited;

“Farewell mother!  Farewell father!

Someday we’ll be reunited …”


©Marie G. – A Modern Divine Comedy

A Nostalgic Throwback to my Earlier Cake Decorating Days

A year ago from now has been quite an exceptional season during which I had the honour to make and create novelty cakes for many persons dear to me whose feedback was priceless!  I’m regularly being reminded about those pieces so it’s kind of hard to literally erase my past days as a cake decorator from my mind, they having played such an important and significant part in my life.

Some good memories, which I’d like to randomly share with you.  I really cannot show them all but almost all of the cakes I’ve done in the past could be seen in the active slideshow on the main Page of my blog, starting from the ones from when I was a complete novice to the most perfected!  I was completely self-taught so, at the end, it was a great satisfaction for me … a great means with which I could express my creativity and artistic side whilst earning that little something!  Please do feel free to acquire some ideas! 🙂

Tanka #2

A picture of one of my dream houses I took in the beautiful and enchanting Mahon, Spain  …  I couldn’t but personify it!


above the sky blue

below the blue of the sea

sole reflection reigns

odd to the eyes of many

uniqueness envied by most

©Marie G. – A Modern Divine Comedy

Accepting nature’s invitation to go outdoors when this month of February is so forgiving!

Grabbing the opportunity that this month of February is temporarily giving us by providing such an unexpectedly beautiful weather, and overcoming the urge of staying comfy indoors at that moment in your weekend when you’d wish nothing else but rest and take it easy, is definitely the best decision to take, even if the day doesn’t manifest itself as being a good one from the very start!  Forget all the usual preparations regarding food, etc … just chuck water, both hot and cold in case you would like to have some tea or coffee afterwards :), together with some sealed goodies and the ever-oh-so-most important first-aid kit in your backpack, drag your loved ones with you (or be dragged!) and off you go!

I just wish to share with you a normal day spent amidst the already awakening nature whilst still waiting for spring to come.  With temperatures at 18°C (64.4°F), and only the crisp north wind to dither perfection, the circumstances just can’t have you saying no to do some trekking!  We don’t have a lot of greenery in the central area of our island but when you drive just for a brief period of time in order to reach any edge that touches the Mediterranean sea what you’ll see below is what you’ll find! 🙂  Just close your eyes and inhale … poetry without words and pure air thrusting itself right into your nostrils, enough to blow away any burdening thought!  Come with me through these unedited pictures, which purposely reflect the true colours of the day, to one of the loveliest and highest parts of the Maltese city of Mellieha …


Maltese garrigue and thyme bushes
St. Agatha’s Tower


Peeping into a crevice with my heart in my mouth  …
A cuppa tea with a traditional honey ring and everyone’s happy!  No recipe here this time, cause I bought these yummy honey rings ready made, but I’ll gladly find and send the recipe to anyone that might be interested!
Nothing better than sipping beer at the beach facing the sea!


So, yesterday started on a sad note … the day before the one I commemorate my dear Dad’s second birthday from his absence and a day on which my body-energy battery was marking near flat … but it turned out to be quite a pleasant one, after all!

Only one thing … as we were driving back home, apathy returning as I was thinking about the long week that I had to face, we passed right ahead of a fatal accident, which unfortunately, left a motorcyclist dead straight on impact.  At that moment, apart from feeling guilty about my grumpiness towards the insignificant, I couldn’t but help feeling blessed to have a home and the usual problems to return to … yesterday was a day that wanted me to feel alive!

My Secret Garden


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

That peaceful place where sadness rots,

whence I can freely cultivate my thoughts.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

Only I decide which seeds to sow,

which grass to pluck or else let grow.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

Rose bushes I thrive to nurture with care;

through spines I toil just for the blooms’ grandeur.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

Carnations, Zinnias, Irises, Sunflower,

Dahlias, Freesias … of Tulips I’m a lover.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

A big segment of it’s covered with Forget-Me-Nots;

memories that keep tying or untying life’s knots.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

Climbers are a species, which I truly adore,

as I look up to them I see many a door.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

I was once fond of Narcissuses … I’ve learnt to stay away;

Their tantalising scent many a time has sent me astray.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

Trees I plant with solid roots so deep;

the more I fertilise the soil the better fruit I reap.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

I know where to look between the branches strong,

to glimpse a full moon sighing its melancholic song.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

To every spot known of shade I would run,

away from the blinding, scorching rays of the sun.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

Only those chosen ones I do let into it;

rapt they too get pulled out of their own pit.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent.

Amidst it a fountain that the soul mends,

its rippling waters of a tale that never ends.


I’ve grown my own secret garden;

None passes its gates sans my consent …


©Marie G. – A Modern Divine Comedy


The Chant of a Chair


I have a thing for empty chairs,

whenever one crosses my eye;

each and every sort of it …

for too long I didn’t know why.


At home, or somewhere regular,

the attachment I’d fully understand;

but, of why this happens everywhere

I could not find the end.


Then, one day, like that it hit me,

whilst in the midst of a bout of thoughts;

the answer, ‘twas always there … so simple,

untangling all the knots.


Every vacant chair reminds me

of two of my most loved ones;

the mother chair and the father chair,

that’s how the story runs.


And, now that my mind’s clear,

the motive I can well recall …

the last time I saw both,

‘twas they and a chair, that’s all!


Mum was pushed away by wheelchair,

from which she waved her last goodbye;

Dad on his usual chair in my kitchen,

before back to his home he went to die.


I have never had the perfect closure;

not the one that I wished with both,

so every time I see a chair

I cannot help myself loathe.


Cause, even though I somehow felt

the day we had to part was near,

I didn’t have the final chance

to hold their hands so dear.


Hence, each and every chair reminds me

of those two dreadful, haunting days;

it took them both away from me,

though with it their fond memory stays.


©Marie G. – A Modern Divine Comedy