Month: February 2017

UKULELE WORK-AROUND

 

 

Hey, hey, Patti Bee

Thanks so much for telling me

To use erasers as picks on the ukulele

Bought a pack at the Dollar Tree

 

With small fingers picks go flying

So embarrassed, feel like crying

Erasers are large, can grip without trying

Love these playing tricks and I’m not lying

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

My ukulele and erasers used as a plectrum

 

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poetry atlas

poetryatlas.com is mapping the world using poetry. Here is a link to my poem River Ramble and photo of the ibis along the Pithlachascotee River. Please contact Poetry Atlas if you have written a poem about a place or if you like a famous poem about a place, anywhere in the world! http://www.poetryatlas.com/poet…/poem/4851/river-ramble.html 

 

 

 

UNDERLYING STORY OF MY LIFE (to be chorded)

 

I’ve been homeless

And I’ve been hungry

Often thought, “If only”

Mostly, I’ve been so lonely

Useless as Lantana

 

Although for many years lived on nuts and fruit

Would never refuse meat hunted for food

My life spattered with many regrets

Loneliness the result of relationship upsets

 

Dream house never a reality

Drove broken-down cars or rode subways

Clothing from thrift stores helped get jobs

Been so alone, my music merely unending sobs

 

Where is my home I often wonder

Spent too many years searching for love

Lonely, unwilling iconoclast

An abandoned, forsaken, outcast

 

If you think, though, I’m depressed

I’ll tell you my secret through the years

A self-reflective sense of humor

Has saved me from being a gloom-and-doomer

 

I’ve been homeless

And I’ve been hungry

Often thought, “If only”

Mostly, I’ve been so lonely

Useless as Lantana…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

WIP UKULELE SONG #16

F/Wanna crawl C/inside your Dm/body

Am/Crawl in  C/side your D/mind

F/Bask in C/side your Dm/emotions

Am/Your sacred C/spirit to D/find

 

CHORUS (in couplets)

 

C/Oh for our F/dark eyes to D/meet

C/life F/berry-pie D/sweet

C/Oh to taste F/and finally D/feel

D/Baby let’s F/make it C/real

 

F/What are the C/magic words Dm/I need

Am/To make you C/part of D/me

F/Just want you C/real and Dm/solid

Am/Not some C/hell-sent D/fantasy

 

(CHORUS?)

 (c) 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Walmart in the morning, damp & rain in the afternoon, exaggerated dreams of composing but still, it’s a nice way to end the day! 

#9 FOREVER

 

Palm-sized

Box of mystery

Found half under the bed

Swollen with humidity

Slid the lid with effort

Crystal number nine

Prismed from fake light

At first I smiled

Thinking of John Lennon

Intoning “Number Nine Dream”

But then hesitated

What can it mean?

 

The Tao Te Ching says:

“To retreat after a job well done

Is heaven’s way”

Did you leave?

Was I your well-done job?

The I Ching says:

“Small influences

In a receding tide”

How similar the two are

No doubt now

You are gone

One last chance

The Tarot says:

“Nine is the Hermit

Only alone can one seek

The answer”

No!  I know the question

Only with you could I find the answer

 

To hide the staring emptiness

I flick the light to dark

Left-handed waning crescent

Barely illuminating

Our once moon-struck bedroom

Safe starship buoyantly braving

The fourth dimension

But time’s clock stopped at nine

And now you are gone…

 

© Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

 

 

LAST NIGHT’S FOG 2-19-17

 

Ten p.m. drapery of fog

Mere inches ahead

In an obscured backyard

Now unfamiliar territory

Feeling freaked

And not reassured

By my dogs’ growls

Peering through concealing mist

Goliath-sized creature

Wings slowly lifting

Smudging the sky

I close my eyes

As it ascends into the dense ceiling

Almost hearing the futile pounding

Of the waning crescent

On its stubborn Impenetrability

Dogs begin a low protest

Crescendoing into a shattering howl

Live Oaks dwarfed

By what can only be

A dragon in the fog …

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Image:  The Mist Dragon, Andre Ma, Deviant Art

COLOSSAL COINCIDENCE?

 

Privately told

To you solely

Arcane instructions

Involving an

Idiosyncratic

Grimoire

Lost on a local airline

To my chagrin

A puerile flaunting

Appeared in print

Revealing the location

Of the long-sought scroll

Do you now feel manly

And in control?

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Lambenore Grimoire White Magic

DEATH WAIL

I.

Women keening

Seemingly without meaning

Here I am at eleven

Beloved grandfather

Sleeping in satin

Soon to be under the earth

Family gathered

For a solemn funeral

II.

When suddenly

Two of my aunts

Dad’s oldest sisters

Begin an eerie lament

These unobtrusive women

Wailing into the darkened morning

Teetering dangerously

On the grave’s edge

Covering the noise

Of the hydraulic mortuary lift

Lowering the coffin

Like lowering a car at the mechanic’s

III.

Eleven year old me

Trying not to cry

As their voices tore

The fabric of the sky

Suddenly the aunts

Throw themselves atop the coffin

Screaming in their native tongue

Their husbands and brothers

My dad included

Pulling them away

And here is me

Suddenly

Beginning to giggle

A nervous hiccupping

Trying to stifle it

Before mom sees and slaps my face

She, however, face buried in lacy hanky

Shoulders shaking in grief-struck crying

Looks at me

And I saw her eyes

Through dark lenses

Eyes crinkled in her own nervous laughter

And we hold hands trying not to laugh

Trying not to cry

We are a disgrace

But nerves care not who has died

And the machinery and keening and prayers

Drown out our insane sadness

Because crying and laughter

Are twin emotions

IV.

Later, dad says

I hope you laugh at my funeral

Much better to laugh than cry

But I think he didn’t understand

Despite his kindness

That keening wasn’t only a shrieking

But an ancient emotion

Tangled in female DNA

Tears or snorting laughter

Hysteria, like the word

Hysterectomy

A double X chromosome

Related to reproduction

Love, birth and death

V.

And some years later

Listening to Janis Joplin

Wailing at Monterrey

My neck hair tingling electrically

As I recognized her keening

For lost love, a lost man

And decades later

As Brittany Howard

Let out her wail

Not wanting to fight no more

I recognize that chain

As I keen with my sisters

Crying

Laughing

Singing

To release the pain

Of female loss…

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)