literature

COME AND GO LITERARY

My poem was accepted by Come and Go Literary!  Here is the poem but please see the above links.  Nick Campanella (comeandgoliterary.com) welcomes your submissions.

 

Latin Lesson (Memoir)

 

Advertisements

LITERARY CRUSH

I stand with Emily

She created the perfect man

It’s not that he’s wild and free

Not that he’s handsome as can be

Not even the bad boy syndrome

Attracts me

He’s the man

Who loves his woman

Exclusively

Oh, the words:

 

“Do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you. I cannot live without my life… I cannot live without my soul!” Heathcliff to Cathy, Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

 

So, okay, I know it’s silly

But there he is

Larger than life

In love and not afraid to say it

I’d rather be poor

Lying in purple moors

With imaginary Heathcliff

Than trapped in a secure bed

Lost and alone

In a loveless home…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: North York Moors (no attribution)

TWO POEMS (Happy Horror Week Scare: I’ll take ghosts, vampires, zombies anytime. Aging is my personal nightmare…)

 

CASH-POOR/CAN’T AFFORD YOUTH CULTURE ANYMORE

 

Nightmares about Soylent Green

Hungry? Worried about aging?

Thankfully, no Charlton Heston in the dream

 

Shopped at Walmart yesterday

Tomatoes spilled from inferior plastic tray

Some hit the floor but I’d already paid

 

Nothing grew in my back yard

Lost the planting will, everything’s hard

Sandy soil, anyway, is much too scarred

 

Food and water no longer seem healing

Garden medicine chest no longer appealing

Glancing in reflective glass, aged face has me reeling

 

Food, water, shelter and power

Supposed to create a protective tower

Framework for the body and soul bower

 

Poisoned is the water and food

Houses unaffordable yet devalued

Utilities effectuate disquietude

 

Ah, to be young and strong and ready to fight

To feel the blood pump while mood takes flight

But my side-effect of aging is terrible fright

 

Today is the future…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Ebay Gothic Skeleton Wall Mirror

 

 

tale-of-the-wife-of-bath-burne-jones

 

“WHAT DO WOMEN WANT?”

 

What do women want

According to medieval storytellers

“Sovereynte”

The ability to make her own decisions

I disagree

Women want beauty

The magic ticket to

Receive it all

When older,

Women want youth

AKA beauty

Let me prove

This to you

Disputing Chaucer and

His Wife of Bath Tale

Or, later, Sir Thomas Malory

And although Dame Ragnelle

Is given the honor of

“Knowing” what women want

The tale would be different

If an actual woman

Wrote the story:

 

So, you may remember that

King Arthur is chasing

(Poaching?)

A deer in haunted Inglewood Forest

Owned by the otherworldly

Sir Gromer Somer Joure

Who in anger, demands an answer

Within one year

(Or he will behead the king)

To the question:

What do women most desire?

 

Despairing, Arthur confides

In his nephew Sir Gawain

So the upbeat knight

Organizes a ride

Through the country

Asking women the question

But all the answers are different

(Okay, no women-change-their-minds-too-much jokes)

Desperate, Arthur returns to the forest

And meets a “loathly” lady

An ugly, old crone

Promising the answer

If he arranges for Gawain to wed her

Gawain agrees, to save his uncle

And Arthur finds Sir Gromer

Who is waiting with his sister

Lady Ragnelle, who happens to be

The “loathly” lady

She has quietly told him the answer is

“Sovereynte”

 

In bed, after wed

Gawain good-naturedly decides

To treat Ragnelle like a beautiful woman

Turning around

He sees she has transformed into a young

Stunning one

“You broke the spell

Cursed, to be old and ugly

Until a handsome young knight

Agreed to marry me”

But her looks will only be restored half the day

She gives him the choice:

Shall she be beautiful at night

When they are together

Or during the day

When they are with others?

Instead, Gawain gives her the sovereynté to make the choice herself

His answer lifts the curse for good

And Ragnelle’s beauty returns permanently

 

Beauty

Youth

Magical words

Why are there no real stories

About ugly, old men

Marrying beautiful, young women?

 

Well, ok, didn’t prove anything

Just another rant by an aging woman

Who happened to take a selfie

Facing the sun…

Um, hey, no knights

In my past or present

Can you lift the spell anyway?

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Burne-Jones, Tale of the Wife of Bath, Victorian Web

 

 

“HOW MANY TIMES…?”

 

Oh, the outcry

About Dylan’s lack of

Poetic language

Since when

Has HOW something is said

Become more important

Than WHAT is being said?

Beautifully-crafted words

Versus

The convocation

Leading to freedom

Perhaps a national trait

At least, since 1776

What good are Wordsworth’s words

About Daffodils

If they are poisoned by

Monsanto?

For biblical fans

You’ll understand

There is a time for beauty

But also

A time for action…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Troubadour (thuleanperspective.com)

FINALLY!

Congratulations to Bob Dylan for winning the Nobel Prize in Literature! I remember saying in an English class (1980s) that Bob Dylan was the greatest poet of our time. Not only the class, but also the instructor, laughed at me. I’ve never changed my opinion. He set my life path when I was 15 years old and I’ve never regretted it!

Many of his songs seem to have arisen from literature.  I noticed that A Hard Rain’s A Gonna Fall is a lot like the old Irish The Destruction of Da Derga’s Hostel.  There is the repetition of “what did you see” and other elements of heroic folklore and folk music.

Literature comes in many forms and nothing is greater than the traveling bard singing the poem…

(c) 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

OSCAR’S WILD(E) MISS-TAKE

 

Dressing for a concert

Too hot tonight for the

Sexy new dress

Glad it’s dark

No one will see the over-washed one

High heel snaps off

From new boots

Clump around in old flats

That make my five-foot frame

Look fat

Oh, man, mirror mirror

Vengeful glass, unnamed

My hair’s frizzily untamed

Face, body, saggy, baggy

Anxiety arrhythmia, skipping beats

Where are my best earrings?

Oh, yeah, don’t own any

Plastic evil-eyes must do

Completing tonight’s

Looking glass portrait

Longingly remembering the other one

Tucked away in the attic

The one getting younger

Every day

While I, the flesh and blood reality

Change

Oscar, you created it backwards

Aging is the true horror…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Oscar Wilde