#gypsies
My mother would often suggest I sleep on it.
Presumably mulling over all the possible outcomes whilst dreaming.
We were raised with anxiety, my mother was a live wire; adrenaline primed our hearts to avoid judgment, or catastrophe in an uncertain future.
At this very moment I am living in the now, and in love with all living things, no-longer afraid; no longer clinging to the illusion of control, in an uncertain future.
Jun 30, 2021
Jun 30, 2021 at 10:11 AM UTC
Thin thoughts
become breezy spectres
drifting through my consciousness
in search of an identity.
Clad in God's light they come,
clad in dark deceit they come,
in many forms they come,
different hues they assume;
they journey through my consciousness
to create my identity.
Through the void of a vacuum
they navigate,
create different realities of my soul.
They belong to different worlds
and no worlds at all.
My thoughts are gypsies;
they're on a marvellous journey
to the heart of a divine mystery!
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC
morning dove
or is it the mourning dove?
speaks this morning
of melancholy
rock and sheep
and a drunken friend
who each night
ended his day
the same
each minute
was nothing I knew
it was the sound of the bells,
around their necks
and from the church.
Above in the abandoned castle,
defenses down
in rooms
open to the sky
looking down
on the village life
the smell of the beach
fish and retsina
the wisteria sheltered agora
I came there
like the gypsies
we never saw
who snuck in at night
took our clothing
off the lines
and potted plants
from the patio,
leaving only what was missing
as evidence
they'd been there
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
My statement is only that you respect
those Gypsies that gave you comfort,
because God only knows what a silly wreck
this has been, to allow them to deport.
Where was justice back yesterday?
Why did you not move or act?
Was it because you had not any dismay,
or because you don't know the facts?
How ***** nilly can a person be
before they are abandoned completely
and left alone to become a dream,
but remain, in a pretend treaty.
by reality, (bye intellect) and by themselves?
It doesn't really matter they always seem to sell.
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
I saw her across the highway, shyly dancing,
Mute spectators imprinting her inside their memory,
Some to their cameras.
She tangled the desert with the whirls of her skirt,
Walked its bare chest with anklets melting to the hot sun,
Only to sell salt, her monopoly, and sing in perfect melody,
A stranger to the land, a stranger everywhere.
Where does it hurt? I have no idea
Somewhere inside, it was raining, raining heavily
Music and art and love decoding themselves to a new myth.
At absolute moments like this-
I cried, powerlessly begging for help, distressed corridors-
Pushing me across wind, water, light and obsessions
It did hurt. Everywhere.
“Your eyes are black, black as coal, oh banjara!”
I was sinking into her scrap clay
The pedant moulded into pots and toys and saucers
Lurking with words she barely penned, love,
As divine as it is, like onion in peels, hidden.
I wanted to sleep, in the most innocent leg
But she kept travelling, everywhere, everywhere.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 10:30 PM UTC
There is no moon tonight
just the cold stars
in the unfeeling sky
yet I cling on to dreams
the gypsy caravan
I stood & gazed at
as a child
in the City museum
is still there
painted, gilded
calling for the carefree road
& in my heart
long before I met you
lived my fascination for your mysterious people
enchanters, fortune-tellers,
some say, child & horse thieves
portrayed thus
in my Mother's Russia
- the wild people of the endless road
the people & whose fiery songs I wanted to follow-
& now, in a far off world, bewitched
by you,
I find out that your dark eyes
are that of a gypsy - Romany
& it's like fate
like D. H Lawrence
' The ****** & the Gypsy'
so why, Northener, do you not love me
like your people, I am also a wanderer
a creature of the road
a castaway with no home
than the one my heart happened to find
if you or fate somehow cast this love spell
upon me
if this was meant to be, you should love me, Gypsy
only that would make sense
take me away
let us go a-wandering
across the land, moors & hills
beautiful boy, sweet poet
do you know I once tread the winter's
frost all the night's way to town
for you, hoping to seal
my love's fate
the dark sky
above me
doesn't know how to lament
lost love
the summer of it's heart
has passed,
drunk long away
in quiet pubs
there is only this poem
poorly written -
my heart bleeding
on my sleeve
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
*T'was a diamond
amidst stardust
struck of gypsy's
celestial adoration,
crashed and sizzled
'neath earthly intentions,
ultimate shimmers
escalated upon
fiercely impetuous seas,
each dappling
luminescent wave
saturated of
splendiferous galaxies,
bathed in heavens'
stellar effulgence,
mesmerizing wanderlust's
magnificent indulgences*
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
Dancing
underneath city lights,
jazz bands
reverberating, breathing in
voodoo shop
musk.
Soul
pulsates beneath
cobblestone,
wide eyes
peering up at
beaded balconies on
Frenchman Street.
Freedom is
coffee and baguettes from
Cafe Du Monde at
midnight,
surrounded by strangers.
Find me under strings of
flickering bulbs,
trading trails with
travelers.
Candlelit doorways illuminate the drifters, the curious, the backpackers,the Kerouacs,
the way to the gypsies past
Bourbon.
But not home.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
We are small like specks of sand
Petals picked by wrinkled hands
Beyond the bounds of space and time
In a dream you'll always be mine
I'll find you in time
You'll always be mine
There might be nothing left of me
Or everyone will think I'm crazy
My existence is the eye of the storm
but in the eye of the rose our love is born
I'll find you in time
You'll always be mine
We would no longer see the stars
Only hear the beating of our hearts
I'll close my eyes and say goodbye
and know I have no reason to cry
I'll find you in time
You'll always be mine
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC