Month: October 2016

DRACUL

(MY FAVORITE DRACULA POEM, WRITTEN IN AUGUST, AND REPOSTED FOR HALLOWEEN):

 

Blood origin stains

Bucharest to Budapest corridor

I, a dusky cocktail shaker of Romani

Transylvanian Dragon

And a hint of Hun

Jewelry of choice

Pungent garlic garlands

Neckerchief hiding vulnerable spots

Wild wolves leaping

Through unshuttered windows

Where babies in baskets

Dream on the cold wood stove

Mother rarely sleeping

Until children of age

To self-protect

All those years

You stood outside

Waiting for me to be

Old enough for you

And I knew

How wrong

How good

Your lips felt

Secret bruise throbbing

Under my fringed shawl

Skin growing paler with each taste

Then one night

Unspeakable delight

Lying on icy stone

Never to return home

Eternal bliss with you…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Budapest abandoned house (FB post)

Potential song Fragment LOL—Ukulele Waiting for Chords

STRUMMING THE UKUELE AND HERE’S ALL I COULD COME UP WITH 🙂

I’m just an alchemist

Trying to turn this

Rusty old heart

Into gold

 

Copper-colored

Blood-coated

Oxidized

Ancient

 

No magic words

Work anymore

And the chemistry

Evades me

 

I need love, baby…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Image: Pinterest rusty heart, no identification

P’HABENGI RAT, CHERNOBYL STYLE (folksong work-in-progress)

 

Moonlit walk along the swamp

Dark pre-dawn

Dogs surrounding

A lone man

Silvery hair like mine

Tight black jeans

Hand stretched

Doggie demented howling ceased

Trotting away

Leaving me, unconcerned

Leaving me alone

With this handsome dream man

 

Says he:

I was born in the woods by Chernobyl

A healthy Canis lupus lupus

One day…so terrible…I wanted to pray

Sick for weeks

My family dead

I lived, though

And when the moon is full

I become a man

Pain-free radiation mutation

I am immortal

I lust for blood

But I lust for love, too

 

Found money and flew

To your safer country

Where the kind of food I crave

Is readily available

And no innocent is harmed

 

Tonight, I walk upright

In the comforting swamp

And here you are once again

After watching you for months

Day and night

Observing your kindness, beauty

And sadness

I want to make you happy

Will you be my eternal comrade?

 

Says I:

For a few days you are a man

But what of those phases

When the moon waxes and wanes

Who do you become?

No longer a maid

I have acquired wisdom

Leaping into lust

Maybe love

Is never what it seems

 

Says he:

I will join your pack

A silvery wolf I’ll be

Content and tame

Able to understand

Who I sometimes am

Yet by virtue of form

Unable to do what a man does

Until the orb waxes full

 

Think I:

This, after a lifetime

Devoid of love

Here I stand

Under a Hunter’s Moon

Silver wolf proposing to me

Alone and half dead anyway

Trust is impossible but

Come what may

I’ll live then die

No trace of me

 

Says I:

In honesty, I do not know you

Do not know if I will love you

But I am willing to try

Is there a way for me

To gain immortality?

 

Says he (as the moon moves closer to Earth):

Yes…

 

Says I (as the moon and stars shower flowers of sparks):

Yes…

 

TO BE CONTINUED, PERHAPS

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Chernobyl Wildlife Returns (no identification)

A WONDERFUL HALLOWEEN (OR MISCHIEF NIGHT) POEM BY MY FRIEND GARY SMITH

IF POE REVIEWED DRACULA by Gary Smith

If Poe reviewed Dracula would the castle still be haunted
would ravens circle overhead and black cats be unwanted
would Poe name Stoker’s unnamed brides with stories to be told
conjure their names from darkness and to devil be betrothed

Morella is a shade of deadly nightshade called Belladonna, it is old
Ligeia  she of raven’s hair that glints more than dust covered gold
sweet Lenore, the queenliest dead, whose funeral song be sung
three brides who are not brides to God, three who died so young

Alone with demons dreaming is a dead Count in an oblong box
time is measured in centuries and not by the mere mortals clock
Castle Dracula sleeps by day and at night its masques are red
conquering worm slithers amongst unhallowed soil of the dead

If Poe reviewed Dracula would the castle still be haunted
would ravens circle overhead and black cats be unwanted
would love of English graveyard poets be there for all to see
spirits of the dead they circle dark kingdoms by dead seas

A dream within a dream by day a sonnet to utter silence
below there lies a valley of unrest in shadow of the siren
a descent into the maelstrom of undead all untouched by time
red lips they beckon unwise men as they whisper ” Valentine.”

© 2016 Gary Smith

IMAGE: A Family Mausoleum (unidentified, Pinterest)

FLORIDA ANTHOLOGY

The Florida State Poets Association Anthology 34 is now available at several bookstores including Amazon.  They kindly included my poem “John Denver’s Ghost” on pages 127-128.  I’ve just begun reading it and there are so many diverse and wonderful poets featured in the anthology!  Here’s a link:

https://www.amazon.com/Florida-State-Poets-Association-Thirty-Four/dp/1946088498/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1477752837&sr=8-1&keywords=florida+state+poets+association+anthology+34

 

 

 

 

 

TWO POEMS (Happy Horror Week Scare: I’ll take ghosts, vampires, zombies anytime. Aging is my personal nightmare…)

 

CASH-POOR/CAN’T AFFORD YOUTH CULTURE ANYMORE

 

Nightmares about Soylent Green

Hungry? Worried about aging?

Thankfully, no Charlton Heston in the dream

 

Shopped at Walmart yesterday

Tomatoes spilled from inferior plastic tray

Some hit the floor but I’d already paid

 

Nothing grew in my back yard

Lost the planting will, everything’s hard

Sandy soil, anyway, is much too scarred

 

Food and water no longer seem healing

Garden medicine chest no longer appealing

Glancing in reflective glass, aged face has me reeling

 

Food, water, shelter and power

Supposed to create a protective tower

Framework for the body and soul bower

 

Poisoned is the water and food

Houses unaffordable yet devalued

Utilities effectuate disquietude

 

Ah, to be young and strong and ready to fight

To feel the blood pump while mood takes flight

But my side-effect of aging is terrible fright

 

Today is the future…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Ebay Gothic Skeleton Wall Mirror

 

 

tale-of-the-wife-of-bath-burne-jones

 

“WHAT DO WOMEN WANT?”

 

What do women want

According to medieval storytellers

“Sovereynte”

The ability to make her own decisions

I disagree

Women want beauty

The magic ticket to

Receive it all

When older,

Women want youth

AKA beauty

Let me prove

This to you

Disputing Chaucer and

His Wife of Bath Tale

Or, later, Sir Thomas Malory

And although Dame Ragnelle

Is given the honor of

“Knowing” what women want

The tale would be different

If an actual woman

Wrote the story:

 

So, you may remember that

King Arthur is chasing

(Poaching?)

A deer in haunted Inglewood Forest

Owned by the otherworldly

Sir Gromer Somer Joure

Who in anger, demands an answer

Within one year

(Or he will behead the king)

To the question:

What do women most desire?

 

Despairing, Arthur confides

In his nephew Sir Gawain

So the upbeat knight

Organizes a ride

Through the country

Asking women the question

But all the answers are different

(Okay, no women-change-their-minds-too-much jokes)

Desperate, Arthur returns to the forest

And meets a “loathly” lady

An ugly, old crone

Promising the answer

If he arranges for Gawain to wed her

Gawain agrees, to save his uncle

And Arthur finds Sir Gromer

Who is waiting with his sister

Lady Ragnelle, who happens to be

The “loathly” lady

She has quietly told him the answer is

“Sovereynte”

 

In bed, after wed

Gawain good-naturedly decides

To treat Ragnelle like a beautiful woman

Turning around

He sees she has transformed into a young

Stunning one

“You broke the spell

Cursed, to be old and ugly

Until a handsome young knight

Agreed to marry me”

But her looks will only be restored half the day

She gives him the choice:

Shall she be beautiful at night

When they are together

Or during the day

When they are with others?

Instead, Gawain gives her the sovereynté to make the choice herself

His answer lifts the curse for good

And Ragnelle’s beauty returns permanently

 

Beauty

Youth

Magical words

Why are there no real stories

About ugly, old men

Marrying beautiful, young women?

 

Well, ok, didn’t prove anything

Just another rant by an aging woman

Who happened to take a selfie

Facing the sun…

Um, hey, no knights

In my past or present

Can you lift the spell anyway?

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Burne-Jones, Tale of the Wife of Bath, Victorian Web

 

 

FAINT…FADING

 

No matter where in the world you were

I always felt your life force

Now it’s fading

I try to hold on

Heat-seek

But no

The cord/chord connecting us

Now severed in the cold moonlit night

My wish

Although we will never be together

Is that you are not gone from this life

That you are

Still directing that force

Even if the heat is for someone else…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens

IMAGE: sutratma silver cord

DON’T WANT TO BE RECYCLED

 

**scroll down for YouTube video**

 

Souls are like glass

Strong at the base

Made to resist slamming

On tables and crates

 

But the body is fragile

Shatters anyway

Bottle bottom useless

Swept away

 

Modern miracle

Allows for recycling of glass

Born anew

Melted in vast vats

 

This time it is born

With a light green hue

Chemical constituents of other broken bottles

Mixed in a glassy stew

 

Are once-alive souls combined

In a recycling purgatory

Only to be confused

Ignorant of a previous story

 

Like other beliefs

Reincarnation requires

A leap of faith with

Rebirth a strong desire

 

What George Harrison says has relatable worth

Give me love, peace but KEEP ME FREE FROM BIRTH…

 

https://youtu.be/s-KAvPbO8JY  George Harrison, Give Me Love

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Image: Colourbox

ELEMEN-CY

Cloudy, dark night

Invisible meteors

Scorching the sky

Uninterested dogs

Perimeter sniffing

Distracted by possum and coon

Spoor

So I am ignored

Flaming cauldron calls

Quite easy to set a match

To the balled paper

Twigs and branches

Oh, how I need guidance

This P’habengi Rat night

Elemental divination

Jag–Fire the base

For this burning Aries

Wrapped in a black caftan

Trimmed in salsa-red

To match lonely lips

Studying shapes of flames

Hungrily consuming

Combustibles

Pyromancy

Eyes closed

Show me ME, say I

Emphatically

Coiling, blazing

A divine divination

What do I see???

Nothing that looks right

Perhaps I need help tonight

Phu—Earth

Geomancy assisted by salt

Tossed in the flames

Unclear alteration

The Earth recoils

From the wounds of the soil

What do I see???

A rumbling of rock and stone

Horror-struck, I suppress a groan

Haburo—Air

Aeromancy

Wind conveniently blowing strong

Flames shift

Father Sky leers

Tell me!

No answer, so I sigh

What do I see???

Tornado, trying to lift me unto death

Frightened, I fight, holding my breath

Paj—Water

Hydromancy

Sprinkling water from the hose

Hand naturally cupped to change

The flames

Thirsting for self-knowledge

I call the wetness

Staining Mother Earth’s robe

What do I see???

Monsoons showering down on me

Yet the fire remains water-free

How to tie disparate forces together

Alomancy

Pouring remaining salt on the ground

Finding an unburnt branch

Eyes closed

Kneeling on the grass

Owl hooting

Bats flying

Cats crying

Dogs howling

Stick in the salt

Open the eyes

Jittery automatic writing

Symbols similar to tasseomancy

Tea leaf augury

Next I’ll be stirring up entrails

Oh, what do I see???

I see ghostly forms

Swirling around the fire

I see an open doorway

To a world I no longer trust

I see the elements rebelling

I see fists shaking in my face

I hear demands calling for my disgrace

Where is the center

Where is the ground

Heavily anchored by a swollen heart

I close my eyes and turn around

Where is the circle of protection

How could I forget…?

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE:  Backyard Pyromancy