Eleni Jun 16

As I lie on an empty street
I see the city lights glimmering, shimmering
A white light flooding over me
exposing my heart hopelessly.

The city feels clean,
the pollution pure air
I am hallucinating
but the high feels rejuvenating

My head descending into an abyss
The lights are dead in every window
My arms loose and waving singing an anthem
Can nobody see me, am I a phantom?

So I drown my sorrows into a bottle
Curl up into my dungeon
That has been my bed for three years
A graveyard for all my tears

Softly, I dream away
Wishing that one day
I will be in the House of God
Safe and secure.

Something approaches me in the darkness
I clasp my knife under my carcass
An open hand awaits me
Wondrous eyes face me

I collapse into warmth.

I heard my own voice
In the music of Esma Redsepova,
"Queen of the Gypsies".
The Sorrow,
The Hopelessness,
The Aimlessness
The Grief.
Sometimes,
We put on our backpacks here in Denver,
But we don't know where we're going?
If I am a European,
I am also among
"The Trash".

This poem was influenced by listening to the CD, Mon Hisoire (My Story)  by Esma Redžepova, "Queen of the Gypsies" along with Titi Robin before going to sleep last night

My gypsy heart longs for the road
my ears wait for the stories told
throughout the years, passed down the line
stories that have outlived time.
My wandering eyes yearn for the stars
let's pack our bag, live in the car
with a forest bedroom in the trees
pillows made from maple leaves.

My gypsy heart cries for the skies
begging them to come alive
to wash away our soiled souls and
let us live in times of old.
My bleeding ears search for the song
but every sound I hear is wrong
in vain I try to find the tune
as the sun rays burn away the moon.

My gypsy heart calls out your name
in hope that yours will do the same
two sorry souls joined into one
our journey, now, has just begun.
My waiting lips anticipate
the commencement of our woven fates
as we lie upon the forest floor
you leave me wanting so much more.

Don’t worry the weather, my wayward woman,
for the seas settle like silk when they’ve fallen asleep.
I don’t know where you are or where you are going,
but I’ll have roses waiting upon your arrival.

I'm placing thoughts between postcards of places you’ve traveled,
with bits and pieces of words you’ve picked up along the way.
I’ve started to walk a worn road of my own,
in search of a girl four time zones away.

And though some of your words may feel so foreign,
I sleep soundly aside your thoughts and thinking you’re safe.
My sights consist of stars that we’ve counted;
Dust that brushes and burrows beneath me;
Houses aligned with rooms full of boxes;
and people still up just to feel awake.

But I wouldn’t mind a box we could live in,
away from the houses and off of the street.
But there’s something unknown of the road we are going,
and that something tells me I should just let it sleep.

So I’ll dream a dream just the way you’ve been dreaming
of luggage and boxes and things you’ll be keeping
to always remind you of what you’ve been choosing
and that to be coming means constantly going;

Hannah Apr 13

I have superstition
written on my bones.
It courses through my veins,
and consumes my gypsy heart.
It controls the tricks
of my stealing ways.
If the moon is full,
It's your lucky day.
I'll leave you free,
and be on my way.

Hannah Mar 30

I will love you,
beneath the gypsy moon,
but when the sun rises
I'll be gone.
Leaving you to wonder
why on Earth I chose you.

~ I'll be gone ~
Hannah Mar 28

I wonder
what it is like
to have a soul
that is tied to stone,
that is happy with
the littlest amount
of love shown.
I wonder
are those the souls
that can withstand
the strongest winds
in the worst storms?
I will never know.
I have a soul
that is lighter than dust.
In one gust of wind,
I am gone,
like a dandelion
dances in the wind,
after it is blown away
to make a fragile wish.

~ I wonder ~
kayleenCyr Mar 13

She was a piece of artwork
who's blood ran cold
radiant skin shining like the sun

a raging mess of a hurricane
with stormy grey eyes
there was no smooth sailing

and a beautiful flow of a waterfall
natural silver clear water
streaming through its calm journey

she is a free spirt you can not cage
under a gypsy spell
casted under a moonlit reality under dancing rain

work in progress

a gypsy wind
don't ever stay
a gypsy wind
roams his own way

to one scene
he won't be bound
cause his spirit yearns
for freedom's ground

the route to leave
loose of grail
the highway calls
liberty's trail

a drifter lives
in his soul's core
venturing every
tor and sandy shore

roads open
he'll always travel
seeking out
unlimited gravel

a gypsy wind
don't ever stay
a gypsy wind
roams his own way

Ma Cherie Feb 27

White and blue now move to orange,
in flames that lick the tempting air,
dancing round a burning fire,
lost in thought- without a care,

Gypsy hearts they move in rhythms,
as fire builds with stomping feet,
the wafting smell of soft patchouli,
hints of savory with the sweet,

Tousled locks they flow on shoulders,
as arms and hands are lifted high,
clapping, moving to the pulses,
hearts are upward to the sky,

Many nights with many dances,
to dance before Aurora's throne,
as magic colors still transforming,
in sky of midnight - moon of bone,

To dance with many or to dance alone,

It doesn't matter -
just dance.

Ma Cherie © 2017

Idk lol I'm not a "real" gypsy- but still! ❤
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