She took that stupid sweater off
Because the sun is finally hot
Now I can live my dreams of
Flying away in this magical pot…
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Rock Star the PitChi
She took that stupid sweater off
Because the sun is finally hot
Now I can live my dreams of
Flying away in this magical pot…
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Rock Star the PitChi
(Been playing the tenor ukulele for so long that it is always a pleasant surprise to play the soprano and hear the difference in sound and feel the difference in mood. Especially nice when snacking on Star Fruit and warming up with Star Anise in hot tea on a cold Florida day)
Soprano-sized uke
Voice soars above island skies
Singing with the stars
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: My soprano ukulele, star fruit and star anise
Just published a Kindle version of my newest poetry book. They are all the poems I’ve posted on FB and WordPress since July 2016. Will do a paperback on Create Space soon.
For those of you who publish on Kindle, it has changed for the better. I was actually able to do the cover in less than 5 minutes after uploading my own photo. Free. They also have a new program where the Kindle can be used as the paperback (instead of using Create Space) but it is still in the Beta stage and I’m not sure if I want to use it at this time since it seemed like Bowker was the only place to get an ISBN.
Anyway, although I fixed some run-on problems (one poem running into another on some of the pages), it seems I can’t get it straightened out. I think there are minor glitches on Kindle but hey, it’s free to publish, and I’m so grateful to Amazon for this opportunity!
Gotta get away from my computer today…
Our fathers bled at Valley Forge.
The snow was red with blood,
Their faith was warm at Valley Forge,
Their faith was brotherhood.
[Chorus:]
Wasn’t that a time, wasn’t that a time,
A time to try the soul of man,
Wasn’t that a terrible time?
Brave men who died at Gettysburg
Now lie in soldier’s graves,
But there they stemmed the slavery tide,
And there the faith was saved.
[Chorus]
The fascists came with chains and war
To prison us in hate.
And many a good man fought and died
To save the stricken faith.
[Chorus]
And now again the madmen come,
And should our vic’try fail?
There is no vic’try in a land
Where free men go to jail.
Isn’t this a time!
Isn’t this a time!
A time to try the soul of man,
Isn’t this a terrible time?
Our faith cries out we have no fear
We dare to reach our hand
To other neighbors far and near
To friends in every land.
Isn’t this a time!
Isn’t this a time!
A time to free the soul of man!
Isn’t this a wonderful time!
(Sorry, had trouble finding a Pete Seeger video to share here. There are videos of other singers but I felt that Seeger does it best. This one is from Rolling Stone):
Reblog on the anniversary of my mother’s death. Can hardly believe it is almost 20 years…
i.
Lost two friends this year
Not off my Facebook list
(Lost a lot more of them
Is it my poetry? Socialism? Autism?)
No, my two friends are lost from this world
Can’t help thinking about them
And my fate, too
Now that the year is new
ii.
When cleaning out Mama’s stuff after her death
Saw that she hoarded brand new, never-worn clothes
Underpants, too
Maybe because her panties once
Dropped off in school
During the Great Depression
Because the rubber disintegrated
From her second-hand clothes
And she was embarrassed
iii.
Mama also had a surprising amount of
Spiral-bound school notebooks
Each one with a picture of
Michael Jackson
(She adored his music)
Filled with notes taken while studying
For her GED since
She didn’t graduate from high school
In the 1940s
There were also diaries from
A crazed woman
Fighting a terminal illness
Such anger, hatred, lies
Note…
View original post 222 more words
You won’t break me
I was raised on mother’s milk
A sour diet of insults, smacks
Daily digs large enough to bury my body
Learned not to cry
Wanted to die
But I didn’t
You won’t break me
Spent the next decade
Being forced to swallow
Acerbic semenic spurts
But the taste grew on me
Because dessert was freedom
While you shared the seed
Among others who had the need
And I went about my life
You won’t break me
Spent the next decade
Being whittled down
Stabbed with your words
Until today I keep only
One tiny mirror
Because although I sometimes believe
I’m uncomely as you perceive
You will never see me cry
Go ahead, fling my poems, songs
At my head
Laugh at me
I know the secret of life
My understanding of what drives
The meanness between
Friends, enemies, husbands and wives
Is full of compassion
I can still feel love for all so
My soul is happy and free
And you will never break me…
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
What do the gods of the Gulf
Want to say
We who have angered them
Coating their gifts in black oil
Whom did the Tocabaga tribes appease
Something we must learn
Because hurricane weather
In mid-January Florida
Winds morphing into
Tornado watches
Sheet lightning
Jealously stealing electric power
Thunder drowning out
Life’s background music
Flooding rains merely
Angry tears from
The ninth largest body of water
In the world is
A message
A warning
The element of water
Deserves respect
The gods have a sense of humor
Smiling as they hear laughter from
A pool in Singapore
An infinite swim atop the world
Loving murmurs from
A bedroom beneath the sea
In a Dubai modern Atlantis
Famous voluptuous bodies
Of water
Meant for the good life
Meant for play
Bodies, whether
Animal
Water
Have specific needs
A body ages
A body craves peace…
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Dubai underwater Atlantis Resort
IMAGE: Singapore Marina Bay Sands Infinity Pool
Two years of an unappreciated garden
Now all gone to unremitting green and brown
How I long for reds and blues
The day sobs out for vibrancy
Need something rare as a hummingbird
Spotted without tear-stained spectacles
Porky-Pig-pink flowers reaching for the sun
But it all takes work
Fertilizer brings relief while wrecking aquifers
So sandy soil
Once the bottom of the Gulf
Holds out for salty seaweeds
Blooming algae
Leaving me a blistering memory
Of our once-fertile
Yet fantasy-driven
Love
Impatient for reality,
Should have known it would be
Achingly
Nutrient-poor
And empty…
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: John Everett Millais – Ophelia
*scroll down for a YouTube video*
Sometimes I feel like the family dog
Sitting around the table
Everyone’s speaking English
But to me,
It’s blah-blah-blah-ish
Not sure what you’re saying
Not sure if I care
Because talk
Often doesn’t compare
To the imaginary music in my mind
Much like—I am sure—the meaty bone
The family dog
Patiently awaits
A tastier treat
Than words fluttering through the air…
*YouTube video: Harry Nilsson, Everybody’s Talking At Me
© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: my peace ukulele under the banana tree
Stardust Haiku is a new monthly publication. One of mine appears in this premier issue. Please see the submission page if you are interested: