poets

FABULIZING MESSAGES

 

Pens, pencils, keyboards

Revelation through your words

Moon, stars, sun

Message could be for anyone

Such mysterious intensity

Daily affecting me

Doesn’t matter who is meant

I can still enjoy your intent

Words have their own music…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: my newest musical challenge

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LUMJA (UNIVERSE)

 

One space-dark noon

Lumja said adieu

But okay

Because who knew

Whom he was really speaking to

Brilliant words

Tossed out

Then reeling in

The first to bite

By understanding

What he imparted

Even though the hints

Were there for anyone who cared

 

A few words matching up to the poetry

Of me

And anyone else

Since we

As the poets of Earth

Are limited in scope

While Lumja

Has limitless words

From uncountable galaxies

To choose from

 

We wannabee bards down here

Rooted to our egos

Cannot rise as high as Lumja

All we can think is

Let it be

That Lumja chose me

That’s not sarcasm

I agree

No one can write like he

But the ego of the Universe

Is a bit much for me

And many others, as I can see

I’m just glad to have the letter “e” to use as a rhyme

See, I’m not really in his class, poetically

 

Yet, words are not the end-all

It’s not dumbing down to write in

Average vocabulary

Makes poetry more accessible

For those who always misunderstood

Subject, reader-compassion, and dare I say

Love of others

Is important too

 

But back to you, Lumja

Although you threatened

To no longer expand

As any good universe is expected to do

You will return

For your name contains

Many synonyms

Many disguises

“I know the truth” and understand

I do

When Marina Tsvetaeva wrote those words

Mother Russia punished her

Failing words

The poet answered with a strong noose

Around the neck

Self-silencing, forever more

But I will say it about you

Lumja

“I know the truth”

And it is all right…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IIMAGE: Nicholas Isabella, Jersey Shore, Milky Way Rising Above Clouds

 

SEMANTICS…

 

The four o’clock poem

Has struck again

When once the words

Poured out during

My morning shower

They now prod me awake

After a restless, useless sleep

And here I am

Tapping away

Peering in dismay

At the pre-dawn computer screen

Overly-bright

Wrecking my sight

Of not only the words

But also what I need to say

 

Does a confessional poet always confess the truth

Or is there a bit of fiction

In everyone’s life

Something we don’t even recognize

Because our reality

Is different from everyone else’s

Is fiction allowed

Or can we create instead of recording

The truth

As the universe knows it

As others think they know it

 

Writing is a philosophical dilemma

And although millions of literature majors

Write countless papers

About the poet’s symbolism

What do they really know

About the poet’s blah, blah show

Most importantly

What does the poet really know

Semantics…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: amirite.com

 

 

FEEL IT TOO

 

Ah, Sylvia, Sylvia

You made the mistake

Of falling

For a fellow poet

 

Felt so good

At first

Flirting

Feeling fine

Flying high

 

Two egos

Soothing

Feeling

What fun

But then

Time to face the future

Forget each other

Or forage on to the next step

You chose the continuation option

 
Marriage, children

No option

For children of the fifties

Except all or nothing

You chose all

 

But as the years mounted

And your best work produced

Nothing felt good

He was still flying

Tossing his laurel leaves

Like a boomerang

At the women

Who flung themselves

Against his soaring arrogance

Did you become

A refurbished virgin

That only the deep breaths

Of oven fumes

Could arrest

When family

Friends

Flirting

Was no longer enough

 

Sylvia, I feel it too…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Sylvia Plath