Thursday, August 18, 2016

Gypsy of note

So that gypsy of note opened her door
to the worse than ever before
and watched in dismay as her wagon wheels
buckled then broke under the weight.

She toiled all day until dawn broke
in attempts to repair the damage
but, lo and behold, the rain fell down
and her wagon got stuck in the mud.

There followed then the stress and strain
to release and uplift the entrenched
but finally too tired to move
she succumbed to the rain and mud.

Exhausted she lies and calls to the wild
that claims life in the deep within
to bless her with two gigantic wings
to fly free from the deeply entrenched.

And her voice with the wind journeys afar
to a place she still has to know
but she waits like a maiden with grace
sometimes in and sometimes out
that exulted state.
  
She waits and calls again, again,
but she knows wings won’t ever be real
because they are and will always be
just the strength to be happy in mud!



s

Monday, July 4, 2016

Pop, pop!

Pop, pop, pop!  The memory pops
and out flow all the bits and bobs
from years and years ago
and even just from yesterday.

Floating so within the mind
they form a pattern undefined
and yet sometimes the dots are joined
and cause/effect comes into view.

And of the dreams that should have been
they stand on the periphery
twinkling like a million stars
far from an outstretched reach.

Then there’s love and empathy
unencumbered by the past
because no matter how it tried
it couldn’t pierce the unfeeling.

Laughter, joy and happiness
a mere speck so hard to find
but there within the medley
for tomorrow’s search and find.

Sadness, grief and heartache
bump shoulders with adversity
and enjoy their freedom heartily
until acceptance swallows them.

Finally the clouds comes in
and all that once was visible
becomes as if it never was
until the next pop, pop!


Monday, March 14, 2016

Emotion

She wound emotion round and round
the stake of present times
and secured the ends to resolve
to prevent escape and leakage
out of two blue eyes.

She feels the twirl and whirl within
and so the walls are fortified,
the exits double bolted,
and she feeds detachment
in the hope of forcing speedy growth.

There’ll come a time o’er yonder hill
when freedom will be celebrated
and emotion will fall to ground
to finally be trodden on
and be as if it never was.

So she wonders why not let it go
but emotion far too meaningful
to end up in the dirt
and so the perimeter is electrified.

It may die for lack of air and care
but that’s alright, you know,
because then she’ll know at last
she’s joined the human race! 



Tuesday, March 1, 2016

As inherently bred

As she turned from the sky to the ground
she heard the chant of the whole human crowd.
“Love myself, love myself, love me, me”
as the only way to ere love another. 

Could it be, could it be, but no one should be
wrapped up and engaged with weeds in the fields
that seek to degrade the beautiful, free,
with thoughts of only a me, me, me.

She tried to go back to when it began
and find the corner she didn’t turn round
so she too could be in the valley of “me”
and chant forever in unison. 

Now directions for gypsies are none to clear
when issued by someone known not to care
for the you, the you, the you, you, you,
and so gypsies remain as inherently bred.

Who bred them to be so mindful of you
and battle the dragons plaguing your soul
when , oh, that tree of only a me
promises peace and harmony.

Would anyone leave such a paradise
to feel another’s pain and heartache
and she wonders how many would gather at noon
when asked to leave themselves far behind.

She doesn’t sigh as gypsies can do
but proceeds on her journey happy to be
a singer of her own special song
for you, of course, and you, you, you.

Maybe one day she’ll find the corner
and join the chant of humankind
but she doesn’t like corners that lead nowhere
and so she’ll remain as inherently bred. 

Saturday, February 27, 2016

Sunday's story - In her reverie

That gypsy stared intently at her ancient tree of life
and wondered in her reverie how the smallest branch
had managed so effectively to infiltrate and weave itself
into the fabric of her soul to make of the scattered parts
one all inclusive whole.

And then she thought of your tree and the cut and prune
that left a gaping hole that never bled but cried
the tears of one who knew that  human ignorance
had cut it down before its time and left it so to rot
in a barren field of total isolation. 

Not as intense as then but she still can feel today
the branch’s pain and agony, the disappointment and heartache
and most of all the sadness at being cut adrift
from the foundation of what was meant to be.

And so the story goes; no one needs to know
if the branch of love grew or not when transitory pleasure
wears the crown of ruler over the human race
and dispenses rewards to what can be perceived
as the completely undeserving.

But such a gift is free will that surely there can’t be
reprisals or punishment for deciding not to love
and she wonders in her reverie if it even matters
when all is said and done and all the trees have died.

However, in that silent space between each heartbeat, breath,
there’s a deep abiding knowing that in the fullness of all time
what was allowed to grow will enlarge, expand and spread
to shade the future path of one who way back then
decided of her own free will to fall in love with you!


Helen / 28 February 2016

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Lost

Time brought her the meaning of life
and placed it down at her front door
but slightly, oh, ever so slightly
off to the right so she didn’t trip
and land prone on the ground of her birth.

Now gypsies, you know, traverse here and there
and don’t believe in walking straight lines
so over she went and swallowed and swallowed
enormous amounts of dirt from the earth.

She chocked and spluttered until finally knew
she had to get up and leave it behind
but dirt in these not so merry times
manufactures its own special glue. 

So down to the river (there’s always a river)
but where, oh, where, is that special one
that will gladly accept the intolerable
and make believe it never ere was?

So tired and weary the gypsy had grown
from searching and searching to no avail
that she turned about face to make her way
back to the meaning of life.

Too many hills and too many dales
and so much underbrush to clear away
that finally, finally, she had to admit
she was plain and simply completely lost!

Monday, February 1, 2016

The Awakening

Set one of the stage opens to show a table for two prepared near the  door.  Fairy lights dazzle and sparkle with hues dancing and glowing up to the moon.

Reflections in water of love’s precious dew surround the table covered in blue and the music that plays whispers a tune of heaven’s own bliss that’s come none too soon.

Locked hand in hand a couple emerge, he walking proud with graying of hair, she passed her prime and showing the signs, they dance until chimes of midnight resound.

The glow from the fire inside of the door promises comfort for love’s early dawn but the call of the wild can be seen in her eyes as she leads him away to the fields and the sky.

On a blanket laid out in nature’s own way passion awakes from living as dead and stars hide their eyes behind soft wispy clouds as naked and proud they offer themselves.

He kisses her fully joining their lips as hands slowly travel down to her hips and the essence of her releases to him the truth of her being so different from his.

The wind brushes bodies with unspoken pleas sending out messages coded yet clear and the pleasure they give returns to their souls as heaven smiles down on the knowing of love.

Scene two opens now with return to their homes as sun touches bodies still warm with own glows but the fire has burnt to ashes of cold and the stage slowly turns as they enter the door.

Two beds far apart and divided by “life” await their return without any warmth and as the sun rises they each can be found …

smiling in sleep for the night took their souls!