magic

DARK RETURN

 

You came into my life

Last year

April to May

Then you were gone

After Mother’s Day

Now like an annual

Birthday gift

You appeared

Miraculously

Dark dove

Flying out of

A tall top hat

Landing on my

Salient breasts

Gently pecking at my

Lonely lips

Spreading your feathers

Chanting your spell

While my eyes seek

The magic wand

To combine you

With the shadowy man

But the month flies

And you follow

Again

On Mother’s Day

Gone

Flown away

You never stay

And I wonder

Are you a resurrection deity

Ruling the kingdom of my heart

For one short month

Go away

Do not stay

Above all, do not return

My fiery body

Can no longer withstand

The burning mystery of you…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Dove & Magician pinterest non-attributed

MAGNETISM OF THE UNIVERSE (4-7-17)

 

Virginids a week early

Or April’s Sigma Leonids?

Lift my eyes

To the skies

And there they explode

Into the darkness

Bits and pieces

Winding their way down

Into my net of stars

Floating atop my

Cauldron of warmth

Capturing the space debris

A gift for me

A wish

Whatever I fancy

Will appear within the year…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Virginids Meteor Shower, Ad Astra La Palma

 

GRIS-GRIS

So many meanings for gris-gris

Little cloth bag of thirteen charms

Used as an amulet or for a curse or

As a method of birth control

Vodoun the religion

Voodoo-Hoodoo stereotypes

Black magic or good luck

Zombies, chicken bones

Dolls with pins

What is the truth, the head spins

I think of it as the original French word: gray*

I see it as a swirl of black and white

I see it as day and night

I see it as yang and yin

I see it as the divine curtain

Separating hell and heaven

Gray, like the Grateful Dead say

Everything has a touch of gray

Including magic

My gris-gris bag was too powerful

Syncretized with my own Gypsy culture

It now sits at the bottom of my closet

In my backpack of cremation clothes

To my sons:

Tie it around my neck

As I go into the flames

This is a last request

In sound mind I proclaim…

https://youtu.be/wOaXTg3nAuY   touch of grey, grateful dead, youtube

The “a” in “gray” is US English and the “e” in “grey” is British although the GDead used the British spelling  (just a bit of boring trivia)

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Image: flickriver textures creative commons

RIVER RAMBLE

 

So here’s a slew of

Ibis in search of Friday morning breakfast

Ceasing their scouring

As I peel a banana

But more polite than seagulls and squirrels

Receiving no invitation

They good-naturedly poke along the riverside

Eating whatever is hidden in the mud

Thinking of Ibis-headed Thoth

Egyptian god of knowledge, art and magic

I wonder if this foraging flock

Is a communique

My totems for the day

A message that says

Happiness is creativity…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Foraging Ibis on the Pithlachascotee

 

OCD-ING ADRENALINE, AGAIN

 

Good things come in threes

Shibboleth of a trinity

Three-step waltz

Or cha-cha-cha

Diagnosis of heart arrhythmia

 

Three times the charm

So they say in marriage

But how about

Three on a match

Three’s a crowd

Three beats to a heart

Not allowed

 

Numerology of three

Tarot Empress of cartomancy

Magical trio of music

The master key

Click your heels three times

No place like home

When will we three meet again

Stirring the hearts of bats

Drink now and then

 

Three beats instead of two

Beta blocker wants you

To be in step

Marching in two

Waltzing in two

Two hearts beat as one

When will I be done

Return to me my adrenaline…

 

© 2015 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: #3 RWS Tarot, The Empress

ELEMEN-CY

Cloudy, dark night

Invisible meteors

Scorching the sky

Uninterested dogs

Perimeter sniffing

Distracted by possum and coon

Spoor

So I am ignored

Flaming cauldron calls

Quite easy to set a match

To the balled paper

Twigs and branches

Oh, how I need guidance

This P’habengi Rat night

Elemental divination

Jag–Fire the base

For this burning Aries

Wrapped in a black caftan

Trimmed in salsa-red

To match lonely lips

Studying shapes of flames

Hungrily consuming

Combustibles

Pyromancy

Eyes closed

Show me ME, say I

Emphatically

Coiling, blazing

A divine divination

What do I see???

Nothing that looks right

Perhaps I need help tonight

Phu—Earth

Geomancy assisted by salt

Tossed in the flames

Unclear alteration

The Earth recoils

From the wounds of the soil

What do I see???

A rumbling of rock and stone

Horror-struck, I suppress a groan

Haburo—Air

Aeromancy

Wind conveniently blowing strong

Flames shift

Father Sky leers

Tell me!

No answer, so I sigh

What do I see???

Tornado, trying to lift me unto death

Frightened, I fight, holding my breath

Paj—Water

Hydromancy

Sprinkling water from the hose

Hand naturally cupped to change

The flames

Thirsting for self-knowledge

I call the wetness

Staining Mother Earth’s robe

What do I see???

Monsoons showering down on me

Yet the fire remains water-free

How to tie disparate forces together

Alomancy

Pouring remaining salt on the ground

Finding an unburnt branch

Eyes closed

Kneeling on the grass

Owl hooting

Bats flying

Cats crying

Dogs howling

Stick in the salt

Open the eyes

Jittery automatic writing

Symbols similar to tasseomancy

Tea leaf augury

Next I’ll be stirring up entrails

Oh, what do I see???

I see ghostly forms

Swirling around the fire

I see an open doorway

To a world I no longer trust

I see the elements rebelling

I see fists shaking in my face

I hear demands calling for my disgrace

Where is the center

Where is the ground

Heavily anchored by a swollen heart

I close my eyes and turn around

Where is the circle of protection

How could I forget…?

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE:  Backyard Pyromancy

P’HABENGI RAT (HALLOWEEN) #1

 

When that thin gossamer veil

Between the worlds

Shreds impatiently

To let the alive and dead

Have their meet-and-greet

Be careful what you wish

Be aware of what you say

Trust no spirit if they be unknown

Dump salt from a neck pouch if tingly scalp

Light white candles if black ones flicker and flare

Carve smiley orange kirbiso

And fish-feed your inky cats

Unless

Unless you crave

(If you are brave)

Excitement that may turn into

Fear

Because the spirits are bored

Powerful and jealous

And they may overcome

Whatever you believe

Who has the control?

Not us, my fellow-living

We can train, memorize, pray

But spirits have that spectral power

A necromantic way with words and wands

No, we’re no match

Unless

Unless you are blessed

With wisdom and purity

And you know the runes to

The banish spell

Do I know them?

Will I share?

Perhaps if you give me your candy corn

I can be persuaded to bare my soul to you…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: MzScarlett

LOVELY POEM BY MY FRIEND GARY SMITH

THE KILLING MOON

She shines,she gleams,this lady kind, filling lost men”s dreams
watching from her ivory tower as the winds drown out their screams
she knows her light shines on them bright,hidden in the night
she knows her mantras, knows her spells,knows their souls by sight

She grieves at this,she thieves with this,she knows by intuitions
she mourns her lost, her hidden costs,behind her dark sky smiles
she”s careful to with her witches brews, her cauldron filled with guile she”s beyond her words, her bonds,her lusts. Magic bows to style

Her druids watch,their nights long lost,for this is when she rules
when hunters hunt,and killers stalk, and timelessness is cruel
what can they do, how do they move,they must protect their queen
they stay awake when others sleep, lost in their serene dreams

The Romans came,to conquer all,they ruled their known world
their latin tounge,spoke words to none,just orders made for rule
they had no choice, cloaked druids walked,under a different moon
when once they danced,uncloaked by chance,to a different tune

Their kingdom lost, usurped by choice,they watch her from afar
this killing moon,spun by Kindly Ones,from their lives was barred
when once they danced,under her light,leaving all to chance
now they sit, so silently,and never more will they once dance

They blame her not, they know her cost, they suffer in her light
It”s neither right, it”s neither wrong,it”s just their endless plight
she shines above, she rides the winds, the stars shine in her hair
below her druid sits in the dark, his life once full, now bare.

(c) 2016 Gary Smith