Thursday, February 18, 2016


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!


  1. Wow. I was just 'next blogging' and came across your work. It is easily the best written poetry I have come across on blogger. Ever. I know it is good because I am jealous of it.

  2. Thank you so very much, Daniel. I suppose it is "work" but I don't really think of it that way. Some thoughts and feelings just have to come out as I try to get to grips with the human condition that experiences sometimes un-mindfully so many things. Thanks again. Regards, Helen