SHAKESPEARE BIRTHDAY SONNET April 23, 1564

My annual Happy B-day Sonnet to Shakespeare

(USING THE FIRST LINES OF HIS SONNETS)

#60 Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
#88 When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
#66 Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
#80 O, how I faint when I of you do write.

#139 O, call not me to justify the wrong
#150 O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
#100 Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long
#28 How can I then return in happy plight

#43 When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see
#66 Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
#52 So am I as the rich, whose blessed key
#115 Those lines that I before have writ do lie

#56 Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
#71 No longer mourn for me when I am dead

 

© 2014 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja) and William Shakespeare

 

 

Subject line from a gmail email: “Add your name if you believe in Science”

*scroll down for a YouTube video*

Today I signed a petition

To admit I believe in Science

WTH?

Is that like believing

In unicorns?

In elves?

Oh, yeah, I signed

But can’t help waiting for the punchline

Or have I been dropped down the rabbit hole

Ousted from Logic World

Because I lived my life

Believing in truth, justice

And the American way

What would Benjamin Franklin say?

I hate waking up

With cold water flung in my face…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Benjamin Franklin Scientist

YouTube video Thomas Dolby, She Blinded Me With Science

 

 

EARTH DAY (APRIL 22 and every day)

Despite date rapists

Feeding her chemicals

For quiet pliancy

Despite thieves

Stealing her jewels

Of gold, silver, uranium

Hidden in her

Deep, dark pockets

Despite ripping at her

Strongly skillful hands

Lovingly tending the roots

Of trees

That shelter, oxygenate, and feed

Of weeds

Intrinsic providers for healing

Of fruits and vegetables

To nourish her hungry children

Through it all

Her molten core

Fecund to the end

Like a Baby Boomer

Listening to the music

In her soul

Dancing, singing

Shouting out

“I am the mother

Of you all

And will never die”

Because the future holds

Glorious consensual couplings

With water, air, fire

And while they helplessly fail

To protect her now

She maintains her sanity

Knowing what is right

And she will never give up…

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Image: earth-greens

NOT FOR ARACHNOPHOBES (revised)

(some of my wonderful friends are worried that I was bitten by another Recluse Spider.  This is my poem from 2014–not my best–but want you to know, no worries)

 

What is the message of the spider?

Open invitation from the resident

Into a pesticide-free home

Spaces in floorboards

Irresistible to the neighboring swamp

Despite the equalizer AKA feather duster

The spiders come in the night

They always nip me equally

One on each arm

Unless it’s a Recluse

She gets me in a circle of eight

The secret antidote is plantain

Or even aloe for the minor stings

I’ve been injected with venom so many times

That one day I expect to point my wrists at a wall

While cobwebs shoot out

Enabling me to scale the side of the tallest building in Florida

But I know there is a message

I used to fancy that I was SpiderWoman of folklore

Weaving my tales

My fantasies

My fantasies came true for others, not for me

What was the message there?

Observer and recorder of life

But never a recipient of those richly imagined dreams

We Romani are always looking at portents

The Sinte word for the spider storyteller is

“Shpina Paramichari”

She is telling me that the one nip on each arm

Represents balance

Be consistent in life

Be moderate while living

No important revelation

But a painful one

Just weave your life symmetrically

In order to function in harmony

I tend to forget every few years

Guess I need a reminder…

(c) 2014, 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Recluse Spider Web, creative commons

LESSON NOT LEARNED (my thin-skinned reply to a negative reviewer)

Imparting lore, knowledge

To others with love

Plainly stating

This is NOT an herbal reference book

So many of those already available

All different cultures

No

This is 4-planes medicine

Physical, yes, a bit

But also

Emotional

Mental

Spiritual

Roma—Gypsies—did not travel

With huge herbariums

Have you ever lived in a trailer?

I lived in a Fifth Wheel for two years

I lived in a 15-foot travel trailer for more years

There is barely room for everyday necessities

So why would readers/reviewers think

We should copy the great herbals

For your viewing pleasure?

The Gypsy herbarium was in the surrounding forests

In the wild flower fields

In the rivers and streams

But all that changed

I’d never recommend wildcrafting

When plentiful poisons threaten the land

Only basics are tucked lovingly away

In the vurdon—wagon—that is home

No detailed grimoires exist

Most didn’t know how to read or write

The oral tradition served for everyday cures

If more serious, the Witch-in-the-hole

Was consulted

Or the Vrezitorka  (so say my Sinte family)

Or the Chovaxani (so say my Kalderash side)

If the town hid one

There was no pantheon of gods and goddesses

Although sprung from India

Speaking a bastardized version of Sanskrit

Now named “Romanes”

Gypsy Chib

But Mother Earth

Father Sky

And a few household helps

Like the Domovoi

Lived alongside the Gypsies

Whether they traveled or

Unfortunately became slaves

In Eastern Europe

No collection of pharmaceuticals

The lesson is

Portability

What can be carried on the back

Is most important

Even today

Many of us grow

To adulthood

Learning that lesson

Herbs?

Magic Words?

Future paths

To live life joyfully

Contained in the 22 numbers

Of the Drom Ek Romani

That some call the tarot

The day of birth

Reveals your lifetime study

15 is mine

Temptation down the wrong path

Add to get 6

Love thrown in the mix

Read the book

It’s all explained

This past week

It was useful for me to be ill

Helping me remember

The simple cures

Seeing that they still work

That’s the other lesson

Less is better, always…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Re: Drab Lil: A Gypsy’s Medicine Book © 2014

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROCKY (ROCKSTAR) APRIL 12TH

 

*Scroll down for a fun video*

 

Look who’s two

RockStar the Pit-Chi

Here he is

Sunning in a plant pot

Looking cute

And how about this picture

Rocking out

I’m sure no one can outdo his

Dirty Dog Dancing

He’s even a Cover Boy

And although it’s not the cover of

Rolling Stone

It’s a great artistic endeavor

By a friend

And

Well, yeah, my book

Call me self-serving

But hey, we indies

Must get our hands/paws dirty

Have to market ourselves

So I can be forgiven, right?

Anyway, just want to immortalize

My beautiful RockStar

Happy Birthday!

 

RockStar rocking out sm px

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGES: The many moods of RockStar

 

ParellelCafeDoneSmallerpixels(1)

COVER ART FOR Parallel Universe Café and Other Poems

© 2015 Karen S. Bruton

 

YouTube video Dr. Hook, Cover of the Rolling Stone

https://youtu.be/-Ux3-a9RE1Q

 

FLU HALLUCINATIONS

 

*scroll down for a YouTube video*

 

Still have a fever today

Went out into the blinding light

So all right,

Caught a glimpse of myself

In the sliding glass door

Sun glaring

Me in every-day black

And honestly,

Thought it was Ozzy Osbourne

Well, ok

His hair is straighter than mine’

And, yeah, his hair was black

Mine was too once upon a time

But still

If someone tossed a bat–

Well, no

Don’t fill in the blanks

I’m vegetarian…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

 

Don’t worry, I just go mad when I’m flu-ish and can’t do what I want (nothing serious) Maybe I should stop overdosing on home remedies such as cayenne pepper, lemon & honey

Here’s Ozzy’s Diary of a Madman

https://youtu.be/OozIDOzGWH4

THE LET IT BE UKULELE & JOHN DENVER’S MINIMALIST CHORDS

 

Finally found a ukulele

That enhances the Beatles song

Or a hymn, really

Of acceptance

With a touch of

Unconditional love

Mother Mary

Or whomever you want to name her

A comfort when needed

Song sounds accurate

Thanks to the

Chensheng hand-made one

Seems I have ukuleles

That specialize in

The songs I love

(Because I can’t read notes

Can’t adapt the melody

Can’t figure out the capo either)

The Luna peace concert one

Perfect for my own song-writing attempts

While Vincent

Forever encapsulated

In his starry, starry night

Resonates on the Ibanez concert

Just love Ronstadt on the Oscar Schmidt tenor

As I twang about love

Or the lack thereof

Yet the song that can enthrall

Can play perfectly on all

Is “Leaving on a Jet Plane”

Underrated John Denver

Whom I once hitched a ride with

From the Philadelphia Folk Festival

Before he was famous

Singing with the Mitchell Trio

What a friendly, happy man

So kind to us young ones

Zooming along the roads

Glad to find coffee and real bathrooms

After a night of no sleep on the muddy pastures

Where music built a crochet chain

Linking all the people responding to

Acoustic folk guitar

Voices hoarse from our singing

Around nomadic campfires

A time when

John Denver was yet to write

The 3-chord song

One song fits all

My ukuleles

No matter my mood

So simple

Play it and see:

G…C

G…C

G…C…D…

 

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: My tenor ukulele with late winter berries

MAGNETISM OF THE UNIVERSE (4-7-17)

 

Virginids a week early

Or April’s Sigma Leonids?

Lift my eyes

To the skies

And there they explode

Into the darkness

Bits and pieces

Winding their way down

Into my net of stars

Floating atop my

Cauldron of warmth

Capturing the space debris

A gift for me

A wish

Whatever I fancy

Will appear within the year…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Virginids Meteor Shower, Ad Astra La Palma