poetry

ANOTHER ROCKSTAR POEM

 

Traded in the family bike

For a handful of magic beans

Told it would grow into

A source of unconditional love

Wrapped In other-species intelligence

And just by touching this incredible bloom

Happiness would be mine for infinite hours

So hurricane rains

Cooled the solar beams

While rainbows bathed it

With seven colorful properties

And it grew and it grew

Until the blossom peeped through

And it was all

And more

As promised…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: RockStar my Pit-Chi

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SPIRITS AND SENIOR PROMS

 

(Humor lightens fearful actions)

 

Time to start communing

With the spirits

Family, friends

I’m not a Ouija person

It lied to me decades ago

Although

My friend really did

Meet and marry a Louis

But I never met Bruce

The New York lawyer

Did go to my senior prom

With a New Yorker

We fought

He wanted me to stop

Hanging at coffee houses

Screaming about war

And most of all

He hated my super-size

Peace earrings

Anyway

You know I’m getting old

Can’t seem to tell a succinct story

This is a poem

About Ouija boards

Spirits

Not proms

Pink gown

Hated pink

Mom got it on sale

Insisted I get my brunette hair

Teased and sprayed

Into an itchy pile

Atop my head

Radical chic

More fitting for my frizz

Not quite in yet

What’s with me

And the senior prom?

Okay, spirits

I’m old now

Wanna know

What’s doing in the

Dead Dimension

I’m getting cremated

Why would I want to

Waltz through paradise

In a five-foot frame

And have to keep my

Weight down

Using a heavenly elliptical

Into kingdom come?

So I’m willing to trade in my body

For something nicer

No one wants to try this

Handmade Ouija with me

All the way from the smallest continent

Overpaid

But don’t think I need money

Where I’m headed

Might as well spend it

So Lone Practitioner that I am

Will lightly place both hands

On the planchette

Dogs will be quiet

Because I’ve tryptophaned them out

With chicken jerky

(Ten dollars for 16 pieces!

WTH is wrong with Walmart?)

Yeah, ok

I’ll be damned

–I am, I know—

Draw a protective circle

Sit amid a bronze bowl of salt

Fake crystal bowl of water

Aromatic sandalwood in a resin holder

Elephant trunk to hold the incense

Supposed to be a good luck totem

Flickering white candle from Save-A-Lot

With a picture of a saint

The acrylic moves

Across hand etched wood

Spelling out ——-

Well, can’t tell you

But I asked respectfully

Asked for a kind soul to guide me

And halfway through

The answer

The essence flew

Not sure where

Relieved?

Somewhat

Will save it for another day…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

TERRESTRIAL ZODIAC

 

The UK has Glastonbury Tor

The US has Mount Trashmore

I have been a Flatlander

Here in the Florida peninsula

But my backyard converts

To whatever I wish

And like conjurers of old

I see a Terrestrial Zodiac

On a two-lot land

An as below, so above plan

True, copying the stellar heavens

Is almost impossible to do

Yet I have special corridors of power

To do my bidding

Scaled down to twelve sections

 

Aries, my own, begins the wheel

Lies in the North

Red and green cayennes

Like the finest quartz Bloodstone

Soaking up the Sun

Clockwise to Taurus

Partially shaded by

Banana tree fronds

A solid, fighting weed

Inflorescence fruit womb

Gemini up against the back fence

Pure shade to hide the glow of

Duality and intelligence

Live Oaks dripping

Spanish Moss

With Air plants of Red Tillansia

Cancer conserving the foresty ponds of

Aquaplants like duckweed and algae

While Leo, basking in sunlight

Shows off the finest, most colorful

Swamp flowers

Haven for bees and hummingbirds

Now the serious vegetables take root

As Virgo’s analytical, critical

Earthy nature dominates under the palm tree

Libra has a patch of harmony

Growing this and that

But intense Scorpio

Hides the roots

Of onions, garlic and ginger

Under the water-based ground

And vibrant, reckless Sagittarius

Generously shines on Greens of every hue

As ambitious Capricorn

Close to the back of the house

Self-importantly impels the

Growing of corn and sunflowers

Sowed by birds and squirrels

Circle almost complete

As Aquarius

Not caring a bit

Who thinks what

Grows whatever blows its way

And inching closer to the beginning

Sensitive Pisces

Lets loose with exotic tropical flowers

Often not based in daily reality

But there, nevertheless

 

And so, I may never go

To see and feel the breathlessly beautiful

Tors and mounds sublime

But it is always

As above, so below

And I believe

In the great mystery

That if even one person

Out of one hundred

Lives life magically

It is a life worth living…

800px-Torre_de_Glastonbury

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGES: Night Sky (Sky & Telescope), Glastonbury Tor (Wikipedia) and Mt. Trashmore, Virginia Beach (The Daily Runner)

Mt_Trashmore, Virginia Beach, image by The Daily Runner

“ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE”

 

*scroll down for a YouTube video*

 

I.

 

We know each other

On the strength of our poetry

Generously

Offering me

A place to stay

And words of comfort

On this horrible day

Invitations arrive from

Friends and family

In overwhelming kindness

Yet, I cannot see bringing

Three dogs with me

 

II.

 

Hours before it comes ashore

Heading for the motel

Driving down Main Street

Deserted

Might be the coming of

The Zombie Apocalypse

But it is merely a Category 5

Hurricane

 

III.

 

Settled in sanctuary

Dogs dreaming on strange beds

I think how social media took away

The dread of loneliness

People are actually interested

In my well-being

Even if we never met

So as I sweat

In a hotel without electricity

I think about the positives

Of Facebook, WordPress and Twitter

 

IV.

 

Dogs need trees

To lift their legs

So in the dark

Incessant rain jabs the skin

Like plucking a splinter

With a pin

And as the wind becomes wilder

A cold, preternatural sensation

Pervades my nape

Curly hair lifting from my neck

 

V.

 

Twenty-four hours after

Prime bands from Irma

Begin to dissipate

A half rainbow appears

Been too many years

Since I believed that

Rainbows are a sign of happiness

And love to come

And stay forever

Whether we go over or under it

But I ask for health and strength anyway

Always wise

To compromise

Never burn your bridges

Believe until the end

For we never know

 

VI.

 

Trepidationally driving home

Wondering if a Live Oak fell

Onto my trailer roof

Or if a long-term power outage

Renders my water well pump fruitless

My air conditioner within silent reach

Streets blocked by fallen trees

Flooded with muddied water

No humans seen in this continuing apocalypse

 

VII.

 

Will all end in anarchy

Without electricity?

But oh, as I bump along my dirt road

Pull into the grassy drive

I see a beautiful sight

On! On! The outside light!

 

VIII.

 

So grateful because I know

Many people lost their lives

Lost their homes

Maybe even lost their faith

In the battering wind and rain

This time, I received a gift

Thank you, thank you, thank you…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Hurricane Irma, Naples, FL (cnn.com)

 

*YouTube video: Scorpions, Rock You Like A Hurricane https://youtu.be/Ypq1FsSXdbE

 

 

RAINY NIGHT IN GEORGIA (Another Autistically Clueless Memoir)

 

*scroll down for a YouTube video*

 

First flight

Eighteen

Philly to New Orleans

Meeting the love-of-my-life

Stationed in Biloxi

Due in at 11 pm

Nemesis fog

Flight forced to land

In Atlanta, Georgia

Here’s the terrible confession

Autistic mind clacking away

Didn’t hear what stewardess saying

Just kept thinking

Will he know my flight’s delayed

Will he wait

Went into the bathroom

Forgot about the luggage

Exited to a side gateway

Dark and empty

Nothing but faux leather

Benches

Ashtrays

Locked in!

Back to the bathroom

Called my mom

From a phone booth

She said just lie down on a bench

Sleep

As if

Can’t even sleep in my bed for more than an hour

Smoked the entire night

Danced and sang in the dark

No jet noises

All grounded

Just smoggy fog

Peering at me

Right outside the observatory windows

Sang alphabetically

Baez, Beatles, Dylan

Sang all the way to the Zombies

(Well no one told me about her…)

Personnel shocked the next morning

When I asked for my luggage

And a flight to New Orleans

Could see their stares

Could see them glancing at each other

But not sure what it all meant

Hustled me on a plane

Served me coffee

But by then I was shivering

Scratchy throat

Landed to the sound of my name

He was there, waiting for me

So was my luggage

We walked on Canal Street

Ate at Top of the Mark

Back to the hotel

I fell

Into a feverish sleep

Didn’t wake until

The next day

Felt better

He gave me his Air Force wings

How I loved him

How I don’t understand

Why I didn’t wait the four years for him

How I hope he had a good life

A good wife

And that’s what I did

On my trip to New Orleans

When I was eighteen

And unknowingly

Autistic and clueless

Yet able to survive…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: USAF Rank Pin, Pinterest

 

*YouTube video Brook Benton, Rainy Night in Georgia https://youtu.be/bDRbF80NKDU

 

 

GIDGETING OF THE “ELDERLY”

 

Hey you guys

Remember Gidget?

Who was the actor?

Sally Field?

Karen Valentine?

Someone petite

Someone “cute’

Hate that word

Applied to me

Tired of being thought of

As another species

I mean, like Jim Morrison said

No one gets out of here alive

And although he left at age 27

Most of us get old

Battle the gravitational pull

So tired of seeing posts about the “elderly”

Holding gnarled hands

With the caption

“Awww, so cute!”

Cute?  Why?

How cute can wrinkled gnomes be?

No matter the age, it is wonderful

To see couples holding each other

Looking at each other lovingly

So while I haven’t been holding hands with anyone lately

Maybe when I go to the Old Age Home I’ll meet someone there

Who will think I’m fabulous and want to hold my hand

(Imagine Beatles background music)

Hope I don’t become a post for some misguided youth

Although, ok, I confess

I was one of those that screamed

“Don’t trust anyone over 30!”

Paybacks, yeah…

In the meantime, Baby Boomers

We’re the ones who tried to bring peace on Earth

We’re the ones who tried to bring truth in politics

We’re the ones getting screwed, now

With impossible costs of medicines

Did you know they’d take our Social Security monthly

For Medicare that doesn’t pay for hardly anything?

So they need to extort more of our (in my case, paltry) money

And use it for “Supplemental Insurance”

I’m still raging against Big Pharma

But it’s easier to yell at you

Warning you not to tell us we can’t wear our hair long

Or wear dark makeup

Or hold hands with a lover

(Yes, we still love sex and rock and roll:

Drugs?  Well, legal ones)

Above all, do not call us cute!

Do not Gidgetize the so-called “Elderly”

We’re forever young

And someday, we’ll be able to go to the moon

With zero gravity

And look lovely enough to be photographed

Then you’ll see who we really are

Just like you…

(Rock on)

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Robert Indiana’s LOVE and Philadelphia City Hall

BANKS BREAK TOO

 

Built to intimidate

Screaming elitism

Old money

No care for new generations

Of loan seekers

Wanting a chance

Willing to work

Just to open morning eyes

Waking up surrounded by

The American Dream

But mortgage payments

Nightmare of businesses

First ten years for interest

Principal stays the same

Family farms, grocery stores

Cottage industries

Swept aside

By the Grim Reaper of Entitlement

So when I look at this bank

I wonder

Where you thought you’d be

And if even the mighty

Will always fall…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Philadelphia Industrial Trust, Title & Savings Bank (no attribution)

STILL ANOTHER NEW POETRY BOOK

Hey all, after much suffering   the paperback version of my Plastic Lawn Flamingos and Other Poems is now available on Amazon for $5. The kindle version is nice, with lots of color illustrations, but this one has B&W ones. Still, to me, this is like my diary of a particular time. You’ve probably read all my poems anyway on FB and WP.  The link is below.

For those of you  who self-publish on Amazon, I used their new Beta program that is part of Kindle, rather than Create Space.  The interior was much easier to do, but I really dislike my cover.  Unfortunately, my phone did not take pictures higher than 1440 resolution and Kindle wants 300 dpi. Mine was much lower so I was limited in what I could use as a cover image. Also, I couldn’t understand a graphics program even if I was teetering on the top of the Rocky Mountains.  I’m sure, if you are PhotoShop-savvy, you could figure it out 😀