Month: May 2015

WRITTEN

letter-v NASA

It was written in the Earth

Under the composted terrain

Carved into the crust

Breaking through to the damp sand

In between the leaves of trees

Branches blowing upward

Allowing letters to fly

***

It was written in the Water

As it bubbled up

Pulsing through the grit, becoming

An underground ocean of crashing waves

Caught in the whirling waterspouts

Vortex connecting sea and sky

The letters fly

***

It was written in the Air

Tossed across the racing clouds

Cottony words appearing

To all who lifted eyes to the skies

Into outer space, visible in the darkest night

Between Corvus and Orion and The Dipper

Letters lying quietly in their orbit

***

It was written in the Fire

Silvery reflection

From the solar system star

Seared into the cavernous craters

Seen in cascading lava

Or in subduction zones of tectonic plates

Cooling into legible letters

***

Names are written

Entwined like moon-struck hearts

An Akashic Record of twin souls

An inseparable destiny

And in dreams that rarely come

I see our names, together

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: NASA (Letters in Space)

HUMOR IN HORROR (Last Night’s True Nightmare)

coffee watermark

Running down a dark passageway

Chased by long-haired hippie males

Here am I, clutching a cup of coffee

Bouncing backpack hindering my escape

I know they’re going to hurt me

Must flee!

Doorway looms

Run through

Try closing the door with my hip

Put down the coffee! I think in my nightmare

Never!

Get the door closed

Big hips good for childbirthing and door closings

Left hand locks it

(How would my Romani Gran interpret this?)

Look at the coffee:

No spills!

A bit of humor in my horror?

Must be old age because most days

Everything seems eye-rollingly droll…

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IN THE END

botannical garden wales 2

When I first saw Bob Dylan life changed

Wanted to help the poor and sing

Now I’m the poor but sure tried my best

Just raised my hand, volunteered for everything

***

As I wear my blue collar origins

Like a newly-inked tattoo

Silently screaming in pain

Failure from a world view

***

I see the absurd injustice

After years of employment

In working class poverty

With barely any enjoyment

***

Not sure about the road to happiness

Is it service or accumulated wealth?

How I envy those who can combine them

But can it guarantee mental health?

***

Yet I sit in my quiet chapel

Surrounded by herbs and birds

Surely luckier than many others

As I scribble thoughts into words

***

May I then state that life is not

Credit and debit accounting ledgers?

Whatever we do it ends the same

The lesson? Find and treasure the pleasures…

***

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

(IMAGE: Thanks to Karen Bruton, photo from botanical garden In Wales)

DECIBELS

Minimalisme-Indicator-Black-decibel

Biker bar through the woods and across the road

Can hear them from the outdoor fire circle where

A local band cranks out Born To Be Wild

Crows caw along, begging for bits of burgers and fries

Harleys in and out of the lot screamingly revving

Competing with passing traffic and bass lines

That rock my tin mobile home but not in a good way

The sound wraps around nerve endings

Eroding my pleasure in music

Seeking solace in earbuds to shut out their music

I listen to Steppenwolf and the promise of a magic carpet ride

Although I’m blasting my songs, the decibels

Are more suitable for an aging rocker like me

Always thought I’d still like music in any shape or volume

But no…No I don’t…No…

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

SPELL IT OUT! (A poem for some of us HFA people)

enigma code machine

I’m not very good at interpreting

Inferences, conjectures, hints, speculations, surmises

My imagination careens out of control

When I try to guess

What people secretly mean

When they speak in code

You can write something

You can say something

But it’s like an elaborate labyrinth of words

Unless you spell it out!

So write, sing, say your words

Wrapped in the finest metaphors, similes or poetic pontifications

But it’s lost on me

Come on, spell it out!

Unless it’s not meant for me

In that case

Never mind…

© 2014 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja), Poetic Alchemy: Talking Blues

(image: Enigma code machine)

SARA E KALI DAY (MAY 24-25)

Sara E Kali 1

My heart will be in

Saintes Maries-de-la-Mer

Where my soul will dance

In Languedoc, Camargue

The South of France

Not only a refuge for the Knights Templar

And Mary La Magdalene

But also home to countless images

Of Black Virgins so serene

Reflecting peaceful love

Sara E Kali—Sara the Black—

Confluence of the Hindu Goddess Kali

Women warriors combatting political folly

Some sinners but certainly

The church-approved saints

One version of the story

Tells of Marie Jacobe and Marie Salome

Accompanying Mary Magdalene

When she fled the Holy Land

After attempting to make a stand

We Roma believe that

Sara, a Gypsy,

Saw their boat floundering and

Tossed her (head scarf) diklo

Upon the waters, when they could not row

This enabled the three Marys to

Walk or sail across the water to shore

Establishing a rapport

Between the women forever more

As they brought their message of peace

The Roma come to the town

These two dates in May

To celebrate Sara E Kali

Patron saint of Gypsies and Travellers

To show their love on a feast day

In an alcove stands the tall, lovely statue

Serenely gazing out of large, dark eyes

Covered in beautiful, filmy diklos

Presented by those who ask for help

Or have received help from one so wise

Saint Sara E Kali, carried into the sea

Violins and voices of praise

This sublime personification of a

Saint-Goddess-Woman surrounded by bouquets

Apocryphal representative of our bloodlines

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

https://youtu.be/sshwtkEAxvY

MAGIC MALL MACHINE (true story)

orange juice vending

One magical night

To my delight

Appearing at the mall

A mysterious machine

Orange and green

Sentinel next to a stall

Like Dawn of the Dead

Zombies shambled ahead

Never noticing what we saw

Oranges propped

Put in a dollar, one dropped

And a knife peeled it raw

Out popped a cup

As the squeezer sped up

And juice then cascaded

A pulpy, fresh drink

I didn’t dare blink

What an invention was created!

People began to stare

As they became aware

Of this odd machine of health

My man and I

Did smile and sigh

As we shared new-found wealth

We returned next week

But the future was bleak

The machine was replaced with junk

Bottled, boiled juice

Nutrition’s abuse

My happiness quickly sunk

Through the years I think

About that magical drink

The sweetness that was life

Never will it return

Although I yearn

For that night when passion ran rife…

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

ASK ME (redefined)

ask me
Shivering in the silvery light

Permeating the sky at midnight

You sang with hopeful face so bright:

“Ask me after coffee in the light of day

I’m pretty sure I know what I will say

Ask me when the sun no longer fights

The magic of the moon-drenched nights

Ask me when truth-seeking eyes can see

What surely is cherished between you and me

Ask me, oh please, in perfect love

Your words filling the sky above

Ask me and I will answer”

Day of sun, night of moon painted zinc white

Your vivid soul, stunningly alight

Will never alter you for me…

(c) 2014 & 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja) rewritten from male perspective for song using male voice

FRAGMENT OF A LONGING SONG

van gogh

i.

Conjure me this:

A man who cares

One who dares

To love unconditionally

ii.

Never have I watched a sleeping man

For that would require loving him

iii.

Oh, to watch the perfect crown

Moving up and down

With each breath

Dark eyes shadowed

Behind vibrating lids of REM activity

Please say that you are dreaming of me!

Relaxed face and hair divine

With full lips smiling, enticingly mine

iv.

My fire of the night

Finally found me

As the dark segues into dawn

I would watch him sleep

This beloved man

So desirable to keep

Forever…

© 2015 Viata Maja