VEGVISIR

 

Walking through the dark of night

Aging eyes not seeing quite right

Some say the runes are from the Huld Manuscript

Perhaps Elder Futhark, difficult to decrypt

Written late 1800s in Iceland

This wayfinder compass, hard to understand

As a lone practitioner on exhilarating starry nights

Admittedly, at times, a kleptoparasite

I adopt this belief as my very own

For lost, I am, all alone

And holding it aloft, reflecting the Moon

The physical world becomes magically attuned

And my path visibly leads me on

As I’m sure the Vikings sailed along

Knowing the meaning of these runes

Dragon ships bravely fighting typhoons

Because the Vegvisir presented by their prophetess

Spells and blessings her largesse

And here I am finding my confusing way

As the sun rises on this auspicious day…

 

© 2025 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGES: Vegvisir Raven Ring/ Vegvisir Coin Compass

 

 

 

CORNUCOPIA

MY ANNUAL THANKSGIVING POEM. WISHING ABUNDANCE TO ALL ON EARTH!

 

To make a cornucopia, take:
Smoked round reed for spokes and braiders
Soak them into flexibility
Cross, pinch, entwine and weave
Humming hymns of tranquility

Zeus breaking off the horn of his nurse
Heracles wrestling a river god of fables
Either led to an abundance myth
Winding up on Thanksgiving tables

Growing gourds, red and green Earth treats
Nuts and flowers complete the increase
Profusion of life’s requirements
Create a still life centerpiece

Magnetic pull of voices from the past
Call and text loved ones far away
Laughter, tears, music of the spheres
The beauty of a traditional holiday…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, Abundantia

 

 

FOR MY FAMILY, FRIENDS, AND FOLLOWERS

 

(Annual Thanksgiving  Poem

 

Happy Thanksgiving Day
This is important for me to say
Social Media is our folk hotel
Visiting daily, we share and retell

Showing pictures of our dog and cat
And our granddaughter the acrobat
Yummy recipes make me hungry
Love the chance to sign petitions about the bumblebee

Wonderful to hear about your son
Life is tough but they still have fun
What amazing writing and crafts so handy
Thanks for accepting our modus operandi

We huddle together when tragedy does come
It visits us all and we succumb
But having loving thoughts sent our way
Soothes us like a spiritual bouquet

So keep on posting and let me know
How life is, just say hello
Know I think of you although I don’t say
You’re always in my mind on any day

Love & Fun & Happiness to you and your Crew…

 

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Tom Russell cover art for Folk Hotel

 

CROSSROADIN’ (REVISED)

 

scroll down for a YouTube video

 

Ah, so wanted to play
Performance-quality
Guitar
Right next door’s the swamp
Don’t have to walk far
Flooded this week
Put on rubber boots
Satellite picture guiding me
But tripped over some roots
Looking for the crossroads
Pictured on GPS
Swamps tend to change
When it storms in excess
My mind cried out “Anomaly!”
Because it wasn’t a perfect X
Still, I heard guitar playing
Saw Robert Johnson on his knees
Inconsistency
Two realms touched
Causing a liminality
Yet half-heartedly
I cried, “What the hell?
My soul to sell?
No, no way!”
The Bluesman lived from 1911 to 1938

Holy Hades, maybe the first

Of the 27 Club

Musicians dead at the age of 27:

Jimi, Jim, Janis, Kurt, Amy and more

So I looked for them in the swamp
Thinking
Get me out of here
Snake City
Don’t want a gator committee
On my way
Wish me home
In pre-dawn dark
Heard Papa Legba laugh
Closed my eyes
Willed me safe
Woke up in bed
Grabbed my guitar and played
Sounded like dead lead
But that’s ok
It’s fun
Turns the rain into sun
I’m done
Crossroadin’
I think, while I strum…

 

(c) 2018, 2025 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Robert Johnson

YouTube video Robert Johnson, Crossroads https://youtu.be/Yd60nI4sa9A

 

HALLOWEEN

Blessed be the human faces

Beauty the same ‘til age disgraces

The body may be fully good

Based on mood defining amounts of food

But Halloween disguises with a mask

A fun and always simple task

A chance to be something new

Tricks and treats for me and you

Maybe a bit tricky

Working off chocolate’s sticky

Tho’ it’s the best one-night-stand…

 

© Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE:  Halloween Candy

 

 

NO REAL CHANGES (Revised)

 

Been up and down city streets

On a horse whose name I forgot

Been through the Painted Desert

On a mule playing crazy games

But always knew who I am

Tagged Seeker, Wanderer

Loving aloneness but often

Regretting being lonely

Because after all,

No one can really help us

Live or die

In a blink of an eye

We are 3 and then

70 years speed by

But we are still the same

Still wanting that guy we can’t have

Still trying to stay thin by

Ignoring the chocolate cream pie

Still dancing on the treadmill

To old rock and roll

Our essence is still the same

Only the shell has changed…

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© 2021, 2025 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: CS age 3

 

 

 

TEA & PERSIAN ART HISTORY:

WADING THROUGH TIME

 

(BASED ON THE PAINTING

“WOMEN AROUND A SAMOVAR”

BY ISMA’IL JALAYIR 1860-75)

 

Last week I time-traveled

But my memory faded almost instantly

I remember drinking tea and

Having my fortune read by tasseomancy

It was the 1860s

One hundred years before

I would break out of

Shyness and autism

Becoming a radical hippie

Forgive the digression, dear reader

Maybe I should start

With my love of Persian art

When a friend sent me a painting

By Isma’il Jalayir

Women Around a Samovar

(Popular name according to

The Victoria and Albert Museum)

I do love samovars

And Gran taught me how to read

Tea Leaves

So I gazed at the amazing women

In their long dresses

But on the left is one

Wearing a short skirt

And I think

How can this be?

Who is she?

Reminiscent of me

Dark, curly hair

Not pretty but a certain ancient beauty

And I wonder if she is an ancestor

Triggering genetic memory

Then I notice

All the women are dressed oddly

An alternate title of the painting is

Women Dancing Around A Samovar

And one writer feels they are a harem

Perhaps being entertained by a ballet troop

I look for a tasseomancer

Reading their leaves

I move among them,

Invisible,

In my time machine

Here is one with a pipe

And the aroma of cherry wood

Drifts among the bamboo bouquet

Of Lapsang Souchong

One of my favorites

I look at the women

Who strangely seem wooden

And find myself trying

To become visible to the one

In the blue skirt

Perhaps she was descended from family

When India exiled the Roma

In the 11^th Century

Is she a great, great, great aunt of mine?

The Romani diaspora

Carried families to all parts of Asia and Europe

Perhaps she was from a family

Of tea leaf readers

Or

Part of the harem

Once captured by the Ottomans

While they warred with Vlad the Impaler

In the wilds of Roumania and Hungary

Birthplace of my father

I get as close as possible

Sniffing her cup of tea

As she drinks rapidly

Wanting to hear her future

Or impart one to others

But then the darkness swirls

And the 21^st Century

Drags me back

And I am left with the painting

On my computer screen

So I brew a cup of

Bamboo-laden

Russian Caravan Tea

To see

Where the Time machine

Will next carry me…

 

© 2025 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE Women Around A Samovar By Isma’il Jalayir 1860-75)