weather

BIKE FEST TO MAKE IT ALL GO AWAY

HOPE EVERYONE SAFE. I FEEL VERY LUCKY BUT I KNOW THERE WAS A LOT OF DESTRUCTION. GRATEFUL TO BE ALIVE AND CELEBRATED A BIT!  WILL READ AND COMMENT ABOUT YOUR EXCEPTIONAL BLOGS/POETRY TOMORROW…

(scroll down for YouTube video)

High on the wind

Stumbling a crooked trajectory

Feel drunken, drugged

Decompressed

Sitting through the Bike Fest set-up

Blown palm branches to be avoided

Heat, clouds

AC/DC’s TNT blasts

I shout along

Bopping my head

Food aroma

Crustacean sandwiches

Philly steaks

Funnel cakes

Coffee beans permeate

My eyes so sandman-heavy

With post-hurricane

Cauldrons of assaulting scents

Christina Rossetti asked

“Who has seen the wind

Neither I nor you”

But we have seen what the wind can do

Tired yet alive!

Undefeated champion of another storm…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: 2016 Hurricane Matthew

YouTube video, AC/DC TNT  https://youtu.be/kR6pxe8jaMs

EVACUATION

 

**scroll down for a YouTube video**

 

What price happiness

When a hurricane claims dominance

Over small pleasures

But the things I love

Are now liabilities

Like huge Live Oak trees

Swaying

Precursor to toppling

On a mortgage-free

Tin trailer

Sitting innocuously

By a swamp

Soon to flood

Possibly

Shelter from a storm

Impossible

With four dogs

I thought portability

Was a safe way to live

But no room at the inn

Or hurricane shelter

For dogs

The simple life comes

With great cost

No sense to rave

But through it all

I wonder which

Ukulele I should save…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

YouTube video, Rolling Stones, Gimme Shelter https://youtu.be/RbmS3tQJ7Os

IMAGE: 2004 Hurricane Jeanne tree missing my trailer, just…

 

So my friends, once again I’ll be off-line.  The hurricane will be worse on the Atlantic side but because the winds are so powerful, the powers that be are evacuating trailer trash like me.  Thanks, as always for all your likes and comments.  Hope to be back soon.  Stay safe if you’re in the path!  Clarissa

SIBILANCE

 

Shifting wind

Storms of acorns

Still

Summer green

Spatter the overgrown yard

Sons of hunting black

Snakes

Sidewinding through

Sandy

Soil

Soon to brumate in burrows

Squirrels

Scamper in Live Oaks’ leaves

Swinging like trapeze artists

Snapping branches

Swaying canopy bisecting

Summer and Fall

Season of hurricanes dissipated

Staccato

Secret of winter

Swears acorn-rain

Signals the welcome coolness

Cyan

Sky by day

Stars visible by night

Cycling through constellational delight

Swan

Song of

Summer…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

THE ROOT QUEEN

Embrace the heat

Of Winter Solstice

No white Christmas

Not even a cool, Florida day

But the prize is a full moon

Plant those roots:

Ginger, carrots, yams

Throw in some garlic and onions

What a goulash they will make

Hot, humid, but the Earth

Coating my hands as I dig

The sweet-smelling manure

That the dogs try to eat,

Makes up for the heat

Setting of the full moon

In the pink of dawn,

No longer high

Eyes of ginger

Gaze to the sky

Bulbs of garlic—

Vampires?

Prepare to die!

And soon there will be onions

Ready to fry!

 

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Flowering ginger from CS garden

SPRING INTERLUDE

trestles @ creek mineral bluff 2

A photo will not show

Vacation highlights because

How does a camera capture low humidity

A breathable phenomenon

For those who wade through weather

In, for example, the state of Florida?

How to take a picture of utter silence

Broken only by a dog’s bark

Or the crack of a rifle

(My fear I stifle)

Unaware family of deer moving across

The forest floor pocked with

The pecking of wild turkeys

We cautiously find our lost path

Forest giving way to civilization

Dogwoods shelter my dogs from the woods

As we tramp across a wooden bridge

Twenty feet–no handrails–above a frantic creek

Of rushing water like a loud bully

As it pushes over a collection of rocks

Here near Mineral Bluff (Georgia) Depot

Listed on the National Register of Historic Places

But all we find are the remnants of

Rotting railroad trestles

Recycled as natural planters

Raging creek rapids a daily garden hose

At last, the cabin with an indoor

Scent like a forest of fresh wood

Though wet dog odor proves

Nature’s aroma is no match

This power spot is also situated in

Cherokee County, North Carolina

We drive through the American blandness of Murphy

With its identical fast food restaurants and stores

Only to find out that it was once the sorrowful

Start of the Trail of Tears

The site of the Cherokee Removal

When the tribes were forced to move

West of the Mississippi River

I shed tears for them and other forced marches

Even in my own ethnic nightmare of the Second World War

The breakaway state of Transnistria

A place where the Roma and Sinti

(Members of my family)

And Ukrainian and Roumanian Jews

Were deported to their death like the Native Americans

And so many countless groups on our beautiful Earth

But we are a luckier generation

We get into the car and drive to

Copper Hill, Tennessee to see a mine full of arsenic

Eating away at a town of unfriendly people

We thought we would move there, the reason for our trip

But no, too much heartbreak and suffering permeate the air

We stop to see the TVA dam that powers all but my WIFI and cell phone

Two useless-in-the-mountains pieces of technology

Teasing me, not allowing me to communicate

How spoiled I am! Not forced marched out of my homeland

Just forced to be without social media for a few days…

None of it matters, of course, because

The power of four seasons (instead of two)

In a three-state section of the Blue Ridge Mountains

Tempts me by awakening the desire to leave

The impossible temperatures of Florida

To begin a new life

Will I?

© 2015 ViataMaja

BALVALORI (WIND)

hurricane chaos 2004 Jeanne
Winds have a wondrous way

Of nudging us toward adventure

Warm wind stroking, teasing

Promising a life of ease and luxury

Cool wind puffing us up

Encouraging ambition

Whispering: This way, let me push you

Toward your destiny

Aggressive wind, mixed messages

Producing anger

Or even lust for

All of life’s offerings

Extracting life-giving moisture

Burning a face fever-red.

 

But escalating wind

Remains most menacing of all

Tornado wind

Hurricane wind

Strength through invisibility

Raising neck hairs making us

Preternaturally aware of danger

From an ancient, barely-used

Segment of our brain

Choose flight

Because fight is impossible!

Run from the wind

Run and do not stop

Run like a pack animal

Fearing aloneness

Moving through luckless landscapes

To escape chaos

And reunite with order.

 

Winds occasionally have a wickedness

We unfortunately witness…

 

© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija

(Image: my back yard during Hurricane Jeanne 2004)

LIFE IN THE LIGHTNING CAPITAL OF THE USA

Noon dark sky

Motion detector light

Blazing through the water drape

Feel like an ant

Creeping along a plugged up

Tub overflowing onto the floor

 

Strobing sky similar to Sixties’

“Happenings” while

Thunderous bass drum

Drowns out the plucking

Of life’s electronic harmony.

 

Fire-crackling lightning

What B. Franklin heard

While sailing his kite and key

Wiping out the air con, WIFI,

Necessities of distraction

On long, hot days

 

Fireworks zzzzttttt….

Thor throwing bolts

At a tin trailer

Lights gone inside

Motion detector asleep now

 

Darkness not cooling

Heat and humidity snakes

Into the shelter

Subverting the computer

Beads of sweat gather

On my forehead

No water well works without

Electricity

 

Where’s that heart-healthy dark chocolate?

 

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas

SUMMER’S NOT A LADY

So impatient with the Summer

Her sultry ways

Just blowing hot air

Instead of saying something real

 

Wet blankets draped across my back

And wrapped around my face

Can hardly breathe and I must

In order to interrupt Summer’s steamy words

 

She just won’t leave the premises

Knowing that there are plenty who welcome her advances

But year after year she brings her dog days

To torment us cat-loving souls

 

Not that Autumn’s much better

Swaggering through Florida, body temp 80 degrees

Teasing with a bit of after-dark coolness

That disappears in the heat of her afternoon breath

 

Winter is a bit more of a lady

She’s dressed in high heeled black boots

And a calf-length shawl, aloof from us all

Blowing down the leaves and acorns on semi-frigid nights

 

Rarely, but sometimes, I actually shiver

Wrapping up in a crazy quilt

Listening to her moan through the windows

But she’s gone so soon, doesn’t seem like 3 months

 

Then Spring is pirouetting through the mixture

Of sodden ceilings happy to discharge their load

As we wade through mud or dry sand or growing grass

Spring does wear some pretty purples and pinks though

 

But I mostly dislike Summer

She’s not my kind…

 

© 2014 ViataMaja, Laminas