Month: October 2018

HALLOWEEN SONG IN PROGRESS

Walking along the road one Samhain night
Saw something odd, gave me a weak-legs fright
Hot pink dragon glowing in moonlight
Stretched over its hoard, man, what a sight

Now I don’t drink alcohol or smoke weed
Although decades in the past I partook of the seed
True, tonight I celebrated my control freed
Caffeine and chocolate imbibed with speed

Dragon snored away so I crept near
Have to confess, did feel fear
But wow! Her hoard was oh so clear
Mounds of candy corn celebrating the solar year

Orange and yellow and white sugar treat
My parents used to call it “chicken feet”
In prep for Thanksgiving I’d gobble it neat
I confess sugar and dye is my favorite eat

Shoveled the hoard into my backpack
Pausing to eat a midnight snack
Until the sugar high made me slack
And I must’ve passed out on the dragon’s back

Woke up feeling a pretty hot fire
The dragon yelling, thought I’d expire
“I didn’t do it!” I screamed like a liar
She wrapped her tail around me, I was lifted higher

“How shall I punish you, my thief?”
“I’m so sorry, but I’m addicted,” I said with grief
“Well it is Halloween so we’ll stay in the motif”
“Yes, I will!” I cried in relief

“Play me a song with your ukulele
Sing something sad and achingly lonely”
“I will,” said I gladly, “although I’m crappy”
Kindly she said, “Music is soothing even from a wannabe”

So I played and sang and swore I saw
A few tears wiped away with her claw
I sang and played til my fingers were raw
And then she thanked me, the sugar outlaw

I hurried home grateful to be unharmed
Swore I’d never steal, especially when unarmed
Sugar is my downfall but now I’m disarmed
And thankful that for once, I was charmed…

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Anu Grace, Dragon Uke & my dragon with baritone ukulele
https://www.amazon.com/Dragon-Uke-Anu-Grace/dp/B00B0LKYRW

dragon4 sm px

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BLOGETRESSA: SHAMBOLIC POETRY

Here is the Kindle edition of my newest book now available on Amazon. The paperback edition will be finished in about a week.  Just when I think I can’t write any more, I manage to find dozens of poems demanding to be born 😀

UNSETTLED PITCH

No more points or angles
Circles for me
Unity
Ouroboros
Me a Romani
Luck of the Gypsy
Depends on angle-less-ness
Exceptions?
Sweet music
Chiming around the universe
When strings overwhelm
Let my tribe
Drum the tambourine
Me a Romani
Percussing a triangle
Softly for the babies
Passionately for the men
Compassionately for the women
Mysteriously for me, a Romani
When accepting the
Jagged edges of life…

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Triangles & Other Fun Instruments

ALTER EGO

Swore I’d age gracefully
No hair dye, no cosmetic surgery
(to pay, would have to commit burglary)
So ok, cheated a bit
Black to look thinner
Sunglasses for misdirection
standing back when the
*!$&%#@ camera lens
Zooms in compassionlessly
Now is the time, I say
No more images to post
Where were phone cameras when
I was young and unlined
Always unlucky on the space time
Continuum of life
Emulating Frankenstein, Jekyll
And Dorian Gray
Today
I fashioned an alter ego
Pumpkin Clarissa
Thin, unwrinkled and
Tall (well, taller than me)
Perfect tenor guitar player
Worthy of Hendrix
(Use your imagination)
Man, I love me!
I mean her!
Versatile
Different mask each holiday
Wish I could download my brain
Well, all right
That’s a bit vain
Still,
If only I could figure out
How to animate her
Hmmmmmm…
Where’s the lightning
When I need it?

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Pumpkin Clarissa rocking out

Hallowed Swamp

Ghost of a song
Echoing down dirt lanes
Ectoplasming past my tin home
Dead-ended in the swamp
Classical Spanish music
Evolving into Flamenco
Three in the morning
More dangerous than midnight
Traditional Chinese Medicine
Proclaims it the ruling of lungs
Emergency Medical Services
Named it the heart attack hour
Both are right

Call and response
Tenor guitar slung on my shoulder
Wisp of a ghost, maybe two
No fear from me
I strum with the shadows
Exercising my lungs
In the dark, I sing
That moment
That moment one’s percussive heart
Keeps time with the melody
Music taking wing
Jolted by the strings
Controlled by invisible fingers
Chords seducing their
Gaggles of ghosts
Who suddenly surge
Down the road, into the muck

Last Quarter Moon glimmers
Through a pellucid sky
Glitters on wet swamp earth revealing
A crucifix, dirty yet untarnished gold
Wipe it on my long black shirt
Treasure forced to the surface
From heavy rain
Overflowing swamp

And I see a long line led by
A history book explorer
Hernando DeSoto, I’m sure
Once memorized for a test
In a long-ago inner city school:
620 men from 9 ships
220 horses
Priests, farmers, soldiers
Up from Tampa Bay
Hiking through Safety Harbor’s burial mound*
To the Weeden Island Cultures’ mound**
A few miles from me
In New Port Richey
Mound to Mound

Looking down on the ground
Kicking with my black combats
Scattering pottery, human remains
Two skulls head to head
Holding hands
In moldy bed
Since 1539
Buried in a swamp of time
Forbidden love?
Oh, yes
In the shadows
An armored man
A doe-skinned woman
Holding hands
As a priestly spectre
Waving a crucifix
Shouts heathens must die
And they collapse
To the tune of soldiers’ muskets
Loudly exploding, drowning out the music
And the lovers become history
In a piece of Florida swamp
Encroaching on my future backyard
As earth is kicked over
Hiding the pair
Guitar notes evaporating

And the moon silently wanes
After a final wail
From wraiths
I pale
Among ancient bones and faded gold
Alone and not dreaming…

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Hallowed Swamp and Tenor Guitar

* http://seesafetyharbor.com/Philippe-Park/Indian-Mound/
** https://www.pascocountyfl.net/1193/Oelsner-Indian-Mound

de soto expedition map