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CARTOMANTIC CHEMISTRY / PERIODIC TABLE

never studied chemistry
but the tidy rows
of atomic numbers and letters
spoke to me
atoms of protons and electrons
defining characteristics
of each element
and theoretically
i understand the discipline
and now
in beautiful colorful cards
i
the cartomancer of
tarot and lenormand
of the drom romani
and bicycle decks of 52
(or perhaps being a
latent alchemist
made their beauty
impossible to resist)
have fallen in love
with this beautiful set
of the elements
although always
the four elements
accompanying
me
earth, water, air, and fire
will always be
all i need
yet
there is something about learning
what our bodies contain
to ascertain
what our bottles of
vitamins and minerals
do pertain
what all the essentials of life
remain
to help us sustain
life…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Photo card deck of The Elements & baritone ukulele

HAIKU STACK (TO BE JOLLY)

song-in-progress (can I write a so-called “jolly song” in melancholy Minor chords?)

‘Tis now the season
For buckets of red and green
(Florida dreaming)

Soon the shortest day
Sun’s declination stands still
Candles light the night

Wind and coolness but
This Sunshine State is snowless
(December dreaming)

Golden music plays
Red birds blending with berries
Green floratam sleeps

‘Tis now the season
For energy in coolness
(Florida dreaming)

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Bucket of red and green

CORNUCOPIA

MY ANNUAL THANKSGIVING POEM. WISHING ABUNDANCE TO ALL ON EARTH!

To make a cornucopia, take:
Smoked round reed for spokes and braiders
Soak them into flexibility
Cross, pinch, entwine and weave
Humming hymns of tranquility

Zeus breaking off the horn of his nurse
Heracles wrestling a river god of fables
Either led to an abundance myth
Winding up on Thanksgiving tables

Growing gourds, red and green Earth treats
Nuts and flowers complete the increase
Profusion of life’s requirements
Create a still life centerpiece

Magnetic pull of voices from the past
Call and text loved ones far away
Laughter, tears, music of the spheres
The beauty of a traditional holiday

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, Abundantia

 

FROGS, REAL & FAKE

HS Bio Frogs are now no longer in danger! Here’s a link that says the town next to mine (Port Richey, Florida) is the first school in the world to use synthetic frogs for dissection in Biology classes: https://patch.com/…/fl-high-school-1st-world-use-fake-frogs… and two years ago, I wrote a poem about frogs in Bio class so if you’re in a poetic mood, here’s the link for that: (complete with a picture of two frogs eating my cat’s food one night): https://poeturja.wordpress.com/…/insomniac-self-conversati…/ 

-cheveux indisciplines- … and other poems in response to the last Wednesday Writing Prompt

Aging can be fun! Here are some wonderful poems, including 2 by me. Thanks, Jamie, for reminding us we’re not only getting older but we’re getting, um, well, you know! 😀 ❤

THE POET BY DAY

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay…

View original post 2,752 more words

ANIMATED WORDS

Time often interferes with the truth
Certain words cannot be spoken
Until the time is right
Safer to lock truth away
In a climate-controlled
Storage space
Until time catches up
To the truth
Or becomes a lie
Be a warrior
Do not frighten the living
Keep the secret
Denial is a good coping mechanism
But be sure to plan for the survivors
This is why music crowns words
Words are animated by music
Words are like zombies
Hated by some
Sneered at by others
Untidy corpses slouching mindlessly
Through streets of
Misunderstanding muck
Add music, though
And the flesh-dropping bodies
Become angels of light
Whole, holy, and so right
Magically
We now understand the words
And all is all right
Whether they be
Truth or lies…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Zombie Attack Guitar Wrap Skin by AxeDecals.com

IN MEMORY OF KB

Just heard you died
Haven’t cried
Not going to
But all these memories
Glimmered through
Last moments of a sunset

In your way
You taught me how
To behave in the real world
How to disguise my autism
Although we didn’t know that word
But you certainly knew
I didn’t function quite right

Met in 3rd Grade
Both dressed the same
Mine orange, clashing with
Sallow skin
Sailor-suit themed
So proud until you walked in
Red, white and navy blue
Angelic blonde with eyes so
Caribbean ocean true
A fairy princess to my
Dark hair and eyes
An evil-looking Disney witch
At age seven
But we bonded

Mainly hung out at my apartment
Over the corner grocery store
Your mother with
A touch of violence
Similar to mine
But mine was working
So just us
Looking out on the vast expanse
Of Oregon Avenue
Never returned to your house
You’d shocked me when you stole
Money from your mom’s purse
Twenty-five cents
To buy us candy
But she caught you
So I got scared
And ran home

5th grade teacher
Shamed us every morning
If we had incomplete homework
You’d say to me
Before class started
“I have incomplete homework, do you?”
Lying unusual for most autistic children
And so I said “Yes”
And you said
“I don’t. So be sure to stand up
When teacher asks
Or I’ll tell on you”
This happened 3 times
And I finally got it
You challenged me
To learn not to trust
And how to read the clues
On a face: lie or truth
Impossible to know
When older I decided
The lies of a Gemini provided
A new perspective for me

When we were 13 I bought a cheap wig
Blonde
Hated my dark curls
You refused to walk to 7th Street
Where we shopped for
Lipstick at the Five & Dime
You said I looked awful
Must take off the wig
And should make the most of the natural curls
I didn’t make the most
But did take off the wig
To walk and talk with you
And in future, I knew
To really study the image
In my enemy the mirror

The thing I loved most
Was you coming to my home
After school
Especially in the winter
And we’d talk without a light
Sitting in the twilight
We were 15 and you taught me
To smoke
Kept the weight off, you said
And it did
Smoke, twilight
Your face would morph into
A soft, happy voice
As mine did too
And we were equals
In the gray light
No blonde, blue
No dark, bright
That year you told me you were
Once molested
By a family friend
And last week
You’d had sex with a man you met
At the coffeehouse we’d discovered
He taught you words like
“Pseudointellectual”
And I spiced up my sentences
Loving words so much
Not realizing
I was the pretentious
Pseudointellectual
Until you suggested it
But
You were also feeling depressed
You were also feeling hopeless
You were waiting for something
But what?
I sometimes felt the same
Hormones
If we’d been born Millennials
Instead of Baby Boomers
We could have googled
“Hormones in teenage girls”

At 16 I moved to New Jersey
And you didn’t want to visit
So it was two years before I saw you again
Although we’d talk on the phone
But not in smoke and twilight

Moving back to Philly
We picked up
Right where we left off
And at 19
You were at odds
I was dating a med student
You agreed to be fixed up
They picked us up
At my house
Saw your face
And both of them tripped over each other
Helping you into the car
While I stood by
In despair
Long black curls
Black eyes
Knowing I didn’t have a prayer
To feel good about myself that day
Because you were a gorgeous
Blue eyed blonde Disney princess
And I still the Disney witch

The following year I married
And never saw you again
Didn’t know anything about your life
Until told you died two years ago
And I thought how you were the one
Who always cared enough to tell me
How to act, fit in
Showed me your
Occasional inside ugliness
But also the inner beauty
Because you stuck by me
And all I could think about
Was how I never truly saw you
Was how I never truly cherished you
Wasting precious time because
I wished I was you…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Sleeping Beauty & Witch

GRAFFITI

Poets
By virtue of writing
Short pieces
Must be artists
Capturing a molecule
Of time and space
Some are portrait painters
Or intricate land- or
Seascapers
Revealing a tiny
Slice-of-life story
Me?
My genre is
Graffiti
Pressing my can of
Spray paint furtively
Sloppy lines, symbols,
Words
You glance at my hidden work
In dark city alleys
No real artistry
Or on rust-ridden overpasses
Where hanging off
My cement canvas
Dangling without a safety net
I bring you my best work
So if you take the time to study
The bones of the painting
The mythology of my esoteric
Scribbles
It will be clear
In my primitive way
I sure do have a lot to say
And sometimes there’s a glint of
Wisdom
Sometimes
But do you see…?

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Overpass Graffiti

WARRIOR WOMAN

Your pain was not in vain
Found buried with a horse, spear
Shield, battle axe and arrows
Proof that women could overcome fear
Fiercely loving and defending
Family and friends.
Over the centuries
Women have been leashed and silenced
Corseted, drugged, beaten, ignored
Treated like family pets
Teetering on stiletto heels
Emotions wrapped in woman-made steel.
But you, you did what must be done
Yes, silenced too young
But I look at you and know
Women were not made to only
Cook and sew
We are strong and brave
Created to carry life and
Therefore to save
All we love and care for.
And I say to you
Warrior Woman
Role model
Excavated from a farm
Your pain was not in vain…

(C) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Viking Shield Maiden, LiveScience

https://www.livescience.com/Viking-shield-maiden-facial-reconstruction.html?
utm_source=notification

GYROSCOPE (song-in-progress)

I’m a wild gyro
Tilting and spinning
Nothing, no one
To tether me
Maintaining orientation
And angular velocity
No problem though
Locating the horizon
When the mist comes
Surprising to see
I’m lost but then
By sheer will power
I right my brain
Like an airline control tower

You yank my string
Send me turning
Churning, burning
This aging heart…

Old bones can learn
To do new tricks
Like dogs biting
Entrenched swamp ticks
But here I go
Once again
Back in my ’07
Honda C-RV
Driving crazily
Through shadowy back roads
Six crates of my crap
All I own in complete defeat
Slipping off the back seat
To the World Music CD drumbeat

You yank my string
Send me turning
Churning, burning
This aging heart…

After days of driving
Back where I started
Land of swamps and palms
But I’m like a handful
Of July 4th cherry bombs
Short fuse, loud noise
Ready to blast
Whatever I worked for
And thought I owned
Gone in a gust
Of anger and mistrust
So the engine ticks
As I get out and stare
Ready for more psychological warfare

You yank my string
Send me turning
Churning, burning
This aging heart…

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja
IMAGE: Gyroscope with Baritone Ukulele