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


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


On Mother’s Day


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



Guess I do like

Star-crazed men

As long as they’re

Super smart


(That’s a social media buzz word)


So my artist crush is

Vincent Van Gogh

Many of us love him

He’s not the most realistic artist

But certainly owns a

Mysterious soul

Some say someone else

Cut off his ear

Over a woman

I personally don’t care

Enamored with him anyway


How nice to see

A modern artist

Who conceived a

Dating service

Of famous faces

He pairs two of my favorite portraits:


Although not drop-dead gorgeous

Next to Helen of Troy

La Giaconda

(The Joyful One)

The Mona Lisa

Is considered

An enigmatically beautiful woman

Some say DaVinci drew himself

In drag

They cite head and

Bone structure measurements

But I don’t see it

Not sure if that is the claim

Of proud gay commentators

Or homophobic ones

I personally don’t care


I do care why, though

Why do we often

Give our hearts

To those who were

So lost

Centuries ago

Why do we feel one with them

Is it the egotistical

Saviour complex

Like, if only Van Gogh

Had loved me

I would have cherished him

I would have saved him

Oh, Vincent

If only you were here


If only I was there

Rescue me…


© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Barry Kite, Aberrant Art

(Thanks to Lisa Rachael for posting pictures)



Another piece of my heart

Was broken

The last tea set

I owned

Lovingly wrapped

Kept in a dollar store

Plastic box

In a dark corner

Where you’d never find it

But then I trusted you

Felt you were finally healed

Took it out to use

And “Whoops!”


“Your fault!”

You snarled

“Leaving it so close to the edge!”

That was then


I only own

Boots, tunics, leggings

Smart phone, PC, Kindle

Ukuleles and a 2007 car

Living in a naked present

My past is all broken

From your silent rages

Seems I am the only one

Still able to hear

The tinkling glass

Reverberating in my heart…


© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)






Hiking around eternity’s habitat

And doing other stuff like that

Met a man I really liked

Every morning I felt psyched

He says, “I’ll be on the bayou with you, bebe”

I shrug and say, “Yeah, maybe”

Hands me an iridescent white glass flower

Trumpet shape blasting out musical power

“This is my promise, I’ll return for you”

I shrug and say, “Hope you do”

He made Odysseus look good

The Greek returned like he said he would

But bayou man seemed to forget

And I just choked down my regret

Blew on the tiny flower each day

But no real music did it play

Lipstick ring left an ugly imprint

Like a bloody gash from its daily tint

Just a symbol of another broken promise

So hard to find anyone who’s honest

Seven years crunching around on mirror shards

Dreading the threatening wind in this house of cards

Weaving and ripping out the stitches

Like Penelope yet without the riches

No suitors, no promises, broken or kept

Trying hard just to accept

Linda Ronstadt singing that song

I answer her saying, “Never” and I’m not wrong

Stomping around swampy grass

I bury the trumpet made of white glass

Over my left shoulder I spit three times

Then chant a few of my Romani rhymes

Never again will I fall in love

Nodding when I see a sign: one lone dove

Never again


© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija

(Image: Broken Heart by crustycrab)


So far from a home

That no longer existed

Who could think through

The meanings of a song

Even though the words were

So plain, even a literate ten-year-old

Could understand

But he had a guitar

She had inner rhythm

The song could mean

Almost anything

She had golden hair

He pierced her cold lair

She awoke after three years

He washed away her invisible tears

What sense a sacred marriage

Stick the knife into the grail cup

But the male is still sterile

And the female is still barren

So modern times agree on promiscuity

Fun while we can

But no sense of what this union can mean

The signs said run the other way!

Instead, Twenty-two years of waiting

Four years off for intelligent behavior

But what good are brains

When the heart will settle for drops of blood

She was here, she was there

She returned, so difficult to bear

Friends to the end…

Of what, you ask

*Title from the song by America