Chose the Moon and Stars
Live Oaks, Cranes and Cardinals
Over you
Who would have been ideal
For me
But sick of the city
Had to go
Up and down
The dirt path
Of the Earth’s promise
Now I wonder
If it is true
We learn from a lifetime
Don’t know
Hope so
Intolerable thought
That it’s all random
Nihilism
Can’t stand the thought
Of mindlessly choosing
The wrong way
For no reason
But being me
Wanting to be free…
©2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Full Snow Moon 2-28-21
Doing a lot of that lately
Caterwauling
But you, musical you
No, you do not fit that word
Soothing, exciting
Passionate and sometimes funny
Despite not making much money
Your love for the art
No matter what
Shines through
You are my
Musical inspiration…
©2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Concerto 3
HAD A BIT OF A THIN-SKINNED DAY WHEN POSTING A POEM ON FB. MY POET FRIEND DENISE EMAILED ME THIS POEM/SONG AND MAYBE ONE DAY ONE OF YOU WILL NEED A SMILE TOO! XOXOXO
Like Anne Frank and family
I begin to see
Similarities
In our situations
Instead of hiding from Nazis
I am tucked away from a
Venomous strain of
RNA
Locked away
Tip-toeing
During the day
And sneaking out each Sunday dawn
To collect mail and drive
Through deserted streets
To be sure there really is a world
Beyond my door
For a year now
I have lived in secret loneliness
Keeping a poetic diary
Of fear and finally of acceptance
That the will to survive must end
As every life eventually does
But unlike Anne Frank
My writing role model
And ten-year-old Muse
I do have the perspective
Of friends and family
Through social media
I am still attached
By a frayed but ever-present
Life Line
To the real world
Although I never suspected
I’d end my life in hiding
Dreading those footsteps
Of plague
Converging on me
Crashing through the door
Mercilessly
A microscopic enemy
Decades after
My childhood heroine
Anne Frank…
© 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Anne Frank’s Diary
The beauty of love
Is its encompassing definition
The appearance of a soulmate
Is a rare gift although
A spouse is somewhat more common
As are significants and partners
But let us not forget
The others in our lives:
Roommates, dogs, cats, birds, fish
Parents, siblings, children
Assorted relatives but,
Most of all, our friends
Love is not a box of chocolates
Or roses (although nice to receive)
Love is listening
Love is smiling
Love is effortless grace
Love is free of resentment
Love is clicking sticky keyboards
While commenting
And liking our virtuals
All we need is love
But tolerance is ok too
Wishing you
A Lovely Day…
© 2015, 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: © 2015 CS, Love Each Other from Drom Ek Romani
(a bit of blogetry)
“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again”
Well, I rarely dream
Yet I use DuMaurier’s line
As a mantra
Repeating it until even I’m bored of myself
I think of some everlasting
Great first lines
Like Poe’s
“Once upon a midnight dreary”
Or even
“Mrs. Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself”
(Ugh, I’d first thought,
But continued reading
When I discovered we shared
A first name
And who could fault Woolf for anything?)
And when you read Moby Dick’s
First line:
“Call me Ishmael”
Did you stupidly
Like me,
Say out loud,
“Ishmael!”?
And most importantly
Shaping my teen years
Allen Ginsberg’s
Beat Poetry
“I saw the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness”
Anyway,
First lines
Like first musical notes
That I call riffs
Help us identify
The body of work
And if visually pleasing enough
They last a lifetime
But first isn’t always perfection
With Shirley Jackson it is her
Third line:
“I have often thought
That with any luck at all
I could have been born
A werewolf”
Me too!
© 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
Image: Shirley Jackson cover: Werewolf & Castle
Almost thirty years ago
When we met
First vacation
Speeding along the A1A
Atlantic Ocean beckoning
The way to Amelia Island
In your red Ford truck
Singing Beatles’ Songs
You said,
“I wish we’d die right this minute
The happiest time of my life”
Years and extra pounds
Wrinkles and words unsaid
A marriage that didn’t happen
Although I didn’t know until later
Lies and cries of pain
And here’s the C-19 apocalypse
Me, not allowed to get the vaccine
I glance up, accidently seeing your
Computer screen
You, signing up for it
I wait for you to tell me
But you did it furtively
And I’m back there
Thirty years ago
Wondering would it have been best
If we did die together
I don’t want you to die
Dying is done alone anyway
But I feel scared and sad
Because you won’t at least comfort me
You won’t see me
Alone and resigned
To life and now death…
© 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: mask and gloves
Sitting outside feeling a bit ill
I swallow a beta blocker pill
Hearing a Sandhill Crane crying
Like a World War II Black Maria siren
How high flies a Tampa plane?
Higher than a Sandhill crane?
What is that frightening, spreading white stain
Smeared across the cloudy cosmos’s grain
Darkening sky endlessly, lethally crying
Syncopating to the moon’s shape dying
Let the Crane live, by power of will
But all now silent and ominously still…
Poem © 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
Image © 2006 Clarissa Simmens
(TO MY FOOD SOURCE ON THE OCCASION OF MY SIXTH BIRTHDAY)
I don’t mind her elbow
Smashing me to the bed
It’s part of her hands
That feed me turkey jerky
Give me belly rubs
And when she wakes up
To pee
I take her pillow
And she nudges me
Over, but my head
Gets to stay next to
My favorite person
Because my world
Attention and food
Sunshine and smiles
Baritone ukulele songs
And singing
All come from my
Favorite human
And did I mention food…
© 2021 Bandit & Clarissa Simmens
IMAGE: RockStar & Bandit (AKA RockBand)
More life imitating art
Or spirituality
As I haul limbs and branches
From another tree
Rapping the tin roof
A threat to me
When hurricane season
Huffs and puffs to
Blow the house down
On the roof
Roomie chain saws
Temp is 52 degrees
And thinned-out Florida blood
Wants to brumate
With gekkos, frogs and snakes
My job is to haul the booty
Into the ferns of
A shivering swamp
And although there is no mirror
Or reflecting pond
I see myself
As others may
A walking-talking
Picture off the Smith-Waite deck
Ten of Wands
Carrying ten wands
All of equal size and state
And my mind flashes to the meaning:
“Stress, responsibility, problems
Duty, drudgery, obligation
Taken for granted
Keep going”
But why am I smiling
Must be the time of life
The visual imitates art
But I’m happy in the wind
Touching the wood
Slouching through Jurassic-like ferns
Burdock stuck to my black tights,
Fleece hoodie and tunic
I’m happy!
Sure, we’re facing death by virus
Sure, we’re in a Ghost House slide
To who knows where
Fighting the despair
As businesses close
Loneliness engulfs
Politics seem sinister
But the Earth is constant
Putting out green shoots
Scents from muddy terrain
And windy, cold days
To remember when the humidity
Reaches 100 percent
I will remember this winter forever
As I find my connection with woods and swamp
With cranes and gentle rains
With dogs howling at the street sirens
With me picking up the ukulele
Playing for the crows
As my spirit grows
I will remember this winter forever….
© 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: 10+Wands
poeturja 