crow

MELANCHOLIA

 

Now I know why

Van Gogh

Did yellow

Dressed in black

Like the crows

I seek succor

From the sun

Or at least

Its result of

Photosynthesis

Corn

Planted by Corvus

As they compete

With the squirrels

Dodge my dogs

Dropping kernels

That sink into the rainy

Earth

And I try to remember

This darkness will pass

I will see yellow again

As my aura soaks in

The balance of

Magical spectrums of

Vibrant colors…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Music and Madness

 

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ARCANA

 

Never use these words, says Gran

Only in dire emergency

She says in the Romani chib:

“Open the door to Arcana”

In my dazed state

The word eludes me

English tangles with

Two family dialects

Kalderash and Sinte

So I come up with Piro Hudar Arcane

Will have to do

 

I walk to the edge of the fog

Gran said, Doesn’t matter what country or town

The fog is yours

Three times turn

What’s your favorite number?

Four

Shtar

Chant shtar times for protection

Her voice fades

 

Early, early in morning

Galbi—gold—in ears and wrists

Step over the vaporous border

Turning, holding

Bal, mutra, shungar, rat

Lock of my still long silver crown

Secret fluids contained inside

Blood of my ancestors

All long ago died

 

Am I wasting this one chance

Do I really need help

Gran’s voice again

Call help, look up

And listen

See who comes

Here is a coin

Keep it forever

Bring it into the fire

Of the ending of one

Beginning of the next

 

When do I need help

Who do I call

You will know, said Gran

No, so overwhelmed

Do I use for love or money?

Do I use for health or happiness?

You will know

 

This misty morning

I think I know

I think I need to not save it

But the doubt

Stuff Gran never explained

Me wondering if half of it

Was made-up shit

To scare, impress

An autistic granddaughter

Whose only power

Was make believe

 

Falling back on my

Four familiar friends

Phu, Paj, Haburo, Rat

Earth, Water, Air, Fire

How can it be

Do I truly see

Or is it senility

Through the haze appears

A crow-faced man

Holding a stringed instrument

Courier and a harp

Anagrammed

Open the door to arcana

 

You summoned me

Said he

My honesty wins

I don’t know why I’m here

I don’t know what to do

I do

Let me do the rest

I know

I know all

 

Misty morning wrapping me

Like the finest silken shawl

I take a deep breath

Close my eyes

See images unknown

To modern tech screens

Hear music unheard

On hides, ivory or fine animal strings

Smell powerful spices

Swirling around my face

Taste prehistoric water

In a state of unbelievable grace

Feeling, feeling

What’s been missing

What has hidden from me

My chaotic decades

Now moving out of the mist

 

How important was it all?

Asks he

Do you see?

 

Why did I wait so long to know

How different life could go

 

Only you have the power of you…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Richmond Park Photos

SCARING KORAKO (CROW)

 

No exaggeration

Fifty-plus crows

In my backyard oaks

Noisy and cawing

How they croaked

Despite the dogs

Barking and leaping

The crows intent on

Hysterical cardinals

And doves scared out of sleeping

They never react to crashing noises

Screaming or begging

Or my Romani words of magical ploys

So tried the peaceful way

And walked around the yard

Me with my ukulele

Playing and singing

“Leaving on a Jet Plane”

(Don’t know when YOU’LL be back again)

And really, they quieted, discussed my words

Took wing, darkening the still-daylight waxing moon

Feeling best to go hungry

Than put up with that screeching, plunking loon

And I heard the collective sigh

Of backyard, hiding birds, no lie

How useful I feel

Scarecrow extraordinaire

Guess I finally have a brain…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: My tenor ukulele with berries

KORAKO (CROW) 2

1

Korako, crow, oh no

Waking to you

Feathers in free-flight

Circling, then

Landing by my feet

Last time you were here

My cardinals disappeared

Lucidly rising from the pillow

I say, please, be an omen

For a good day

Really need one

2

You look at me with

All-knowing eyes

As I stare back at you

Trying to be strong but kind

I ask you to move along

Spare me live-at-five

Real-time demonstrations

Of the food chain at work

3

Thought I was awake

But you answered me

In perfect American English

“Good for you, bad for me

I do it only when hungry”

Do it down the street, then

Cardinals are nesting there too

4

Korako gives me a sad look

“Your cardinals are more important

Than those of neighbors?”

Chastened, eyes closed

I try to go deeper into sleep

Want to forget the dream

Almost waking time

Subconsciously hear my dogs

Scratching, moving around the bed

Korako fading into that other world

And I, tribal sociopath, am left

Self-reflecting on selfishness

Taught to me by korako…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: How To Draw A Tribal Crow by Dragoart.com

THE MAGICIAN

corvus constellation

Couldn’t find Orion’s belt at three

He’d moved

The sky was unfamiliar

As if I observed it from another planet

Another galaxy

If it wasn’t for the moon

I’d have panicked

Where are you Orion?

Too soon for you to disappear

Into the Western sky

You didn’t even say goodbye

Got out my planisphere

To decipher the stars

That took over your space

In the Southern sky

Doesn’t it figure?

The constellation Corvus is

Lording it over the misplaced hunter

Corvus, meaning Crow

Korako

In Romanes

Crow decimated all my red and brown Cardinals

This summer

Crow so big from an all-meat diet

I tried talking to Korako

Asking it to leave

It cackled, caw-cawing

But now it mocks me from the sky

Twinkling from oh, so high

Orion’s knife

His bow

Useless against the insidiousness of Corvus

As above, so below

The winner is the Crow…

 

© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija