Author: poeturja

Clarissa Simmens holds a Bachelor of Arts degree in English and various practitioner certificates in Herbal Studies (first learned from her Grandmother), Traditional Chinese Medicine, and Gi-Jo Acupressure. She is the author of seventeen poetry books available through Amazon. Writing poetry led to translating words into song lyrics and learning to play the baritone ukulele. She makes her home on the edge of a small swamp in Florida where she dreams and sings to the calls of Sand Hill Cranes, the crackling of scampering animals, and the croaking of off-key bull frogs. https://www.facebook.com/RomaniGypsyBooks https://poeturja.wordpress.com/ http://t.co/JSvNROn15t

BLESSING OF THE MAGES

Blessed are the crones

For we have lived the paths

Others have yet to walk

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Lighting the way

Like Hecate

Brandishing

Twin torches

She of the Moon

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As the Universe

So the Soul…

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© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE:  Hecate & the Night Sky

GET ME OUTTA HERE BROOM SPELL

Get me outta here spell good for those looping times spent in the time machine when the mind takes you back to the past and you’ve been obsessing about terrible events that happened decades ago and what can you do? There is no real time machine but you can’t go back and change anything anyway, so hop on your broom and take yourself outta here. 

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Reward yourself instead of looping in the primeval soup of our own personal Big Bang when we slid out and walked across the linoleum of our parents’ homes.

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Nothing says “domesticity” like a broom!

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My two favorite Slavic house spirits love brooms but for different reasons:  Kikimora, spinner extraordinaire, is mean and demands a clean home.  But Domovoi, the one accepted by my family, at moving time merely requires a loaf of bread, a tub of salt, and a broom.  Yeah, sweep the floor but it’s really used to pound the wall and demand that the previous house spirit leaves, follows his people, and makes room for our protective domovoi.  

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Welcoming our house spirits is an easy spell (feed them) but climbing on the broom and flying away from pain and sorrow is a bit harder. We can do it, though, especially as a lone practitioner, not into too much ritual. But you can buy a Pagan broom, fancy with cinnamon or rubbing oils, or just use your dollar store broom, as I do, spider webs, Gulf sand, and all.  

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Hold that broom (or sit on it like a vintage hobby horse) and fly.  Close your eyes because it’s dizzying, at first.  Zoom through the sky.  Tell the wind you want those thoughts swept out of your mind. 

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See the lightning traveling from cloud-to-cloud. Tell the fire to crisp away the negativity today and continue to fly until you find a cloud-to-ground bolt of light.

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Splash into the ocean and ask the water to wash away any thoughts remaining, paining you.

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Then walk upon the earth, bare feet grounding you with the sweet dirt, moving through grass and leaves from cooling trees. 

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Thank your broom for the ride of your life and release.  Hear that trumpet and gravelly voice?  Satchmo singing “What a wonderful world”!

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And it is…

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© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Broom, Baritone, Domovoi

DETOURS

3d rendered modern guitar as neon lamp, dark background

(Thanks to JP Hawk for the poetry prompt)

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Sometimes we’re on a road

AC/DC-ing a Highway to Hell

Exuberantly singing

Or we’re speeding too fast

To notice the DETOUR signs

Yet, feeling we’ve made

All the right moves

But after braking

We wonder how we got here

And we’re lost

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And we just can’t get

That compass

To point the way

So we stop

Before we stray

But it’s getting dark

And we can’t stay

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Our eyes suddenly see

We’ve awakened

But we came so far

Sleepwalking through

The roads of our lives

Distracted by what seems good

Defeated by injustice and lies

Yet we keep moving

No longer exhilarated

Merely aware of that place

The DETOUR

And there are more

Not just the one

So it’s a maze

Are we used to it?

Are we unfazed?

Because we can’t go back

Anyway

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And we just can’t get

That compass

To point the way

So we stop

Before we stray

But it’s getting dark

And we can’t stay

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Like wild animals

Leaping over

Fleeing from

A forest fire

Mindlessly searching

For a safe spot

A place to breathe

Cool down

A place to think

Plan

For the next step

Like wild animals

We Limbically move

Toward the faraway

Fantasy

DETOUR

Before

We find that lost home

At the end of the road…

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© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Arrow & Guitar, I Stock Photos

SOMETHING PRIMAL FOR MAKE MUSIC DAY

FOR MAKE MUSIC DAY 2022 (JUNE 21)

Make Music Day 6-21-2022     http://www.makemusicday.org/

C/Never been in love or D7/loved
D7/Struggled to stay C/afloat
C/Can any man be so D7/perfect
D7/As a series of musical G6/notes?

F/Something primal G6/making it sing
Em7/Slapping bongos or F/tambourines
F/Skin aglow D7/feeling the sting

C/Fantasy in D7/chords of blue
D7/How will I ever Am/find you

C/Flavor of a D7/good man
D7/Like eating chocolate C/Ice cream
C/As taste buds revived D7/deliciously
D7/In a piquant G6/dream

F/Something primal G6/making it sing
Em7/Blowing horns hot as a F/thermal spring
F/Pumping blood rides D7/an upward swing

C/Fantasy of D7/honeyed kiss
D7/Craving a present Am/life of bliss

C/Longing for a D7/reality
D7/Consigning all the C/nightmares
C/Back to the D7/dreaded past
D7/Of implacable ghosts of G6/despair

F/Something primal G6/making it sing
Em7/Fast picking of guitar’s F/heart strings
F/Spiraling out on strong D7/beating wings

C/Fantasy of love D7/in the now
D7/Intending to live the Am/myth somehow

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja) words and chords
Amateurishly Written for Baritone Ukulele or 4-string Tenor Guitar (tuned DGBE)

SUMMER SOLSTICE MUSE

ALSO, HAPPY WINTER SOLSTICE TO THE SOUTHERN HEMISPHERE

6-21-22 (5:14 a.m. DST)

This Muse to Life

The Center of our being

The Sun

Radiating health

As a life-affirming carnival

Because the darkness

Never lasts

Because the darkness

Eventually lightens for all

And it is up to us

To embrace it while we can…

❤ ❤ ❤

© 2021 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Morning Sun on my Live Oak Tree

A TSUNAMI OF STUFF

There are just too many

Magical objects

Ideas

Crystals and sigils

Candles and poppets

Word squares and numbers

Essential oils and waters

Tamatas and Milagros

Pendants and rings

Shouldn’t magical moments

Be merely composed of

Healing herbs

Symbolic cards

Sun and calendars to

Orient time and space

Moon for phases

Stars for direction

Branches for wands

Trees for shady comfort

Birds for music of the spheres

Natural Nature

No more hoarding

Buying into the stuff

I could never afford

When younger

Now I have books for this and that

When I could just as easily

Write my own

Inventing my own spells

My own arcane language

(Abracadabra is so old-fashioned)

I’m overwhelmed by stuff

Back to basics

Back to Thoreau’s pond

Back to Nature

As we said in the Sixties

I long for simplicity

Or a larger house to store it all

My soul is aching to be

Feng shui-ing to Minimalism…

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: A Tsunami of Stuff

HEY MAN, IT’S MYSTICAL

Roomie called it a blind

I called it a lodge

Appearing two days

After the surveyors left

It was a lean-to

Built on the other side

Of our fence

From slender trees

And palm fronds

New neighbor bought

The woods adjoining our yard

We’d been spoiled for years

No neighbors

Just swamp

Woods

And someone across the road

But now a land invasion began

Took quite a few photos

But all blurred

In an other-wordly way

As the glimpses of the builder

Young and determined

Tried to hide our messy yard away

After a few days

Dogs barked crazily

Only to see

Surveyors back

Lean-to disappeared

Not even a sign of the palm fronds

Scattered on the earth

And then the surveyors gone

All looked the same

Except for a small clearing of trees

But we rubbed our eyes

When we realized

Something skewed reality

Because, the next day,

A tiki hut appeared

Looked like a pool bar to me

But no, it’s a ticket booth,

Said Roomie

Tickets to come see

Rednecks like we

Living on the swamp

LOL, said I

But then

Maybe

Maybe Roomie

Is right

And we’re the sideshow…

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Lean-to building & a new tiki hut

WAVE

Not quite a free spirit

Because the Moon rules

Endlessly forcing her

To the waiting shoreline

Compelling her to remain

On a chain

Of Tide and Time…

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Dawn’s Enslaving Moon

ABROGATION

Pulled that piece of fabric string
Unraveling
The tapestry of our
Very brief history
Held together by a random
Collection of words
Proving to be
Merely meaningless
In the skein of time and space
A non-meeting of minds
Doomed to meander
Down our own dark paths
Silent farewell to a wisp of a wish
Blown beyond the days and nights
Never to bloom…

© 2022 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Spilled Hearts