Born in an April Pink Rose Moon
Lover of red and black
Roses and sun beams
Suddenly smack against the wall
Of no longer striving to be happy
Personable or at-least-cute
Swimming in worry
Unable to rise to the glass’s top
Like newly-poured sweet cream

Mapped my way from Earth to sky
Head tilted at a neck-aching angle
Eyes constantly on the night sky prize
Searching for an older body’s scheme
While gravity grounds me physically
But emotionally all over the top
Bouncing off walls
Like an astronaut in training
Living in extremes
Wanting to float
Like myriad space debris
As an ultimate dream
Untethered from the Earth

How I wonder if my books have worth
I think of Bukowski’s poetry
The Last Day of the Earth Poems
Aged and sad
Maybe planning his final leap
Grim and dark
Hardly a sunny gleam
But poets don’t lie
We wrap our truth in starry dreams
Oh, yes, the reality is there
As you strip away the pretty paper and ribbons
Uncovering silent lunar screams

Have I reached too far
Over-reacting to aging?
I should ground myself
Rejoin the flamingo flock
Stop the aging themes
Enjoy the earth, water, air and fire
The base of all our alchemical balance
The stuff that weaves together
Human dreams

(c) 2019 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Flamingos & star globes 4



Almost impossible to be creative

When happy (in love)

Why take time away

From obsessing over the beloved


The heat of lust

Flesh, fire-roasted

Concentration of flavor

Tasting the sweetness

Like Valentine candy hearts

(I heart U in pink dye)

But rage is hot, too

Yet scribbling, screaming

Hearts’ heat, when alone

Is different

So was it all the wasted passion

Wasted womanhood

That worked for women writers?

Is that how Austen, Dickinson

Resisted tearing out their hair

Tripping down Georgian/Victorian streets

Screaming, steaming, shouting:

Oh, for the touch of a man!

For the meeting of eyes

Concerns that arise


Did Emily Bronte’s rage write

One of the most sexually-soaked books

Of the nineteenth century?

And was her sister Anne

Lonely governess in Scarborough

Seeking solace from the

Passing of her clergryman

Pining? Resigned? Enraged?

What hidden facial expression

Passivity or aggression?

How did these women

Continue to live



Is that why they died

So young?



© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

Image: 1880 Victorian hair, unidentified, Pinterest



World’s biggest fake book

Now on the internet

All those free chords

Melodies and words

Illegal, royalty-free

But hey, ever hear of the

Free library?

Writers have had work

Stolen since Ben Franklin

Came up with the concept

So maybe the internet is

An artist’s equalizer

Poets and writers

Painters and musicians

Creations free to a good home

Fake books may

Often contain unusable information

But I’m still grateful

For all the work

Bestowing power to the people


© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)