pandemic

SERPENT-BEARER

Hubble Goes High Def to Revisit the Iconic 'Pillars of Creation'

Midnight south sky
Peering through mist and rain
Serpens Caput
Separated by Ophiuchus
The Serpent-Bearer
From Serpens Cauda
Severing gravitational pull
I drift to the 2nd Century
Imagining Ptolemy
Gazing at a pristine sky
On clear, Alexandrian nights
Naming three of the
88 constellations
That still seduce me
In this 21st Century
What were your dreams?
Did they extend past your
Actual titles of
Mathematician
Astronomer
Geographer
Astrologer
Did you compose music
Or paint
Or flirt with temple priestesses
Did you break the hearts
Of your poetic Muses?
Or did you crane your neck
Night after night
Seeing with your naked eye
But sadly missing a beauty
From lack of technology
The Hubble Telescope’s gift
Pillars of Creation
Part of that constellation
A colorful majesty
Unseen
But oh,
How you would have loved it
I suspect you’d have named it
The same as
Jean-Philippe Loys de Cheseaux
Swiss Astronomer
Who called the nursery for stars
The Eagle Nebula
But as I watch
Serpens Caput
Serpens Cauda
Who almost seem to be writhing around
Another serpent bearer
Asclepius
I am reminded of the caduceus
And take it as a sign
The healing time
Has come
For Earth and her children
And gravity
Once again restrains me
As I float down to the pre-dawn light
And know all will be all right…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGES: Ptolemy / Pillars of Creation / Serpent-Bearer Ophiuchus

Ptolemy

RESURRECTION: ROSE OF JERICHO (Selaginella lepidophylla)

Daily dream
End of pandemic
Changes?
Developmental stages
Of humans
Dictate reactions:

Children will be children
Just a blip
Extended school vacations
Now over
Life
Like a salty wave on sand
Continues obeying the
Moon’s command
And life
Returns to normal

Teens always immortal
Meeting and greeting
Strength pumping
No fear from a
Casual cough
A sneeze
It is once again
Friendship
As hormones float on the breeze

Young adults
See cracks in the
Mirror of Immortality
But nothing serious
As careers and caresses
Determine the future
Of long life ahead

And now the mid-forty-somethings
Begin to sense
The beginnings of pain
Bones creaking in bed
Hearing whispered warnings
In their head
Post-pandemic protocol
Lingers longer in daily lives
But still
The watchword
It can’t happen to me
…can it?

And what of the elderly?
Dreaming day as well as night
Drifting under a
Black starless sky
Wedge of white moon
Gleaming on a trellis
Of ruby-red roses
Thorns
The elderly see the thorns
The elderly feel the thorns
As we rock out to our
Beloved music
Dressed in jeans
Dressed in Goth black
Carefully avoiding mirrors
In bright rooms
The pandemic never left
We live in fear of death
Death by disease
Or whatever the reaper may please

So I lovingly place
A tumbleweed of
Rose of Jericho
In spiritual water
And as the seemingly-dead roots
Begin to turn green
I can say I have touched and seen
Resurrection…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Before & After Rose of Jericho
(Heirloom Reviews)

PANDEMIC PANIC

some black boots

Allowed to do 5 stupid things during a pandemic.

#1 buy a concertina that I cannot play
#2 buy overpriced alcohol wipes and plastic masks
That never arrive
#3 toss out a dozen pairs of black boots and then
Buy another pair because there are
No black boots left to wear
#4 buy ramen to hoard as emergency food and instead
Eat them for breakfast and dinner every day because
The noodles in salty MSG are addictive
#5 write crazy poetry and worse, post it, because
Maybe it’s the end of the world anyway
But if it’s not, someone please,
Cut up my credit card…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGES: 20-button Anglo Concertina / boots / ramen / lipsticked mask

RAMEN, MASK & MUSIC

APOCALYPSE DOLLARS*

I just want to celebrate another day of livin’

I just want to celebrate another day of life—Rare Earth

While good feng shui-ing

My home

By tossing 20-year detritus

I find a pack of cigarettes

Haven’t smoked in decades

But I think

“Currency!”

Something to swap

For a loaf of bread

In case

In case the apocalypse

Descends upon us

Cigarettes for a loaf of bread

To keep me alive

An extra day

Seriously, Clarissa…?

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Collecting Currency

*Confessional poet/ reveals a moment/ of the darkness in her mind 😊

UNDER URSA MINOR

Can’t sleep

May in Florida

Seventy-two degrees

Seventy-two years

Maybe seventy-two coffee beans

Waiting to be ground

Walk outside

Stunned by humidity

Probably seventy-two too

There’s Ursa Minor

Fading into the

Early morning sky

Grayer than my hair

Cardinals eating

Wrens rapping

Woodpecker pecking

The metal TV aerial

Blue Jays aggressive

Those colorful Corvids

Cousins to Crows

And my two faithful dogs

Howl in joy

Blissful ignorance

No Covid-19

Or approaching old age

Or life-changing events

For them

And the Bear fades

Completely

Asleep until its stars

Wake up tonight

Fixed in the sky

So far one will die

Red giant

T Ursae Minoris

Already erupted in a thermal pulse

As one day our own star

Our lovely sun

Will also leave

The ceiling of my world…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Under Ursa Minor

DOUBLE HEADS: CAPSICUM ANNUM

Games, guitars

Clicking keyboards

As adrenaline heroically

Breaks through the heart’s

Beta blockers

Poetry struggling to be born

Amid piles of paper goods

And useless cans of

Presidentially-declared

Canned chicken

Trying not to worry

About my well of semi-poisoned

Water

Dependent on electric power

All that matters

Are the words

Typing ferociously

Occasionally glancing

Out the glass door

Into the swamp

For desperate eyes

Watching me

With a full refrigerator

Typing maniacally

With a keychain pepper sprayer

Protection against

Those eyes

And I think how

Pepper spray is Capsicum annuum

Chili peppers

An herbal hemostat to stop bleeding

And a savior hemostat

To stop the eyes

Watching me

In the semi-darkness

In a time of chaotic pandemics

But to me

In this teardrop of time

Only the words matter…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: SWAMP WOODS

HAIKU STACK (EMPIRICAL)

We talk to Nature
She always explains herself
In a voice like ours

How do we know, though
That voices of trees and clouds
Are not in our mind

That is when we need
The company of humans
To say yay or nay..

Familiar voices
In their own unique timbre
Empirical proof

Trees, animals, waves
Even wind-caressed grasses
A way to recharge

But don’t lock us down
Because even introverts
Will crave human touch…

© 2020 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Alone with the grass

THIS IS PROBABLY THE LAST TIME I WILL USE WORDPRESS. BOUGHT A NEW LAPTOP AND UNABLE TO “WRITE” ANYTHING. HAVE TRIED TO GET HELP FROM THE COMMUNITY BUT NO RESOLUTION. MY FACEBOOK PAGE (CLARISSA SIMMENS) IS PUBLIC AS IS MY PAGE (CLARISSA SIMMENS, POET). JOIN ME THERE. MY EMAIL IS DRABARNI1@GMAIL.COM (WILL CLOSE DOWN THE POETURJA EMAIL ALSO). THANK YOU! BEEN A WONDERFUL PLEASURE TO READ YOUR WORK, COMMENTS, ETC. ❤