Thursday, September 26, 2024

Time

 

In the silence of these times
a gypsy’s mind travels far
looking, looking, somewhere there
for what she know exists.
 
But she is known to misconstrue
the signs she sees along the way
which cause her to veer off course
from her core belief.
 
She doubles back to start again
but to no avail she humbly sits
and tries with all her might to be
well implanted in these times.
 
And so it worked for years and years
but how she longs to walk the trail
in search again for what she knows
is waiting, waiting, waiting.
 
But she smiles again like gypsy’s do
to fight off all the tears inside
that flood her being with … woefulness
because she knows she won’t succeed.
 
She tried back then and tried again
but now she merely waits and waits
because she knows she can’t be right
if the timing isn’t so.
 
Time, dear time, when is your time
to shine your goodness down?

Saturday, August 31, 2024

"Here"

 

So she made a mistake and ended up “here”
where sunflowers have taken their leave
and no roses grow all vibrantly red
in soil deprived of nourishment.
 
Sometimes the sun beats fiercely down
and sometimes the rain pools in disdain
here in that place called “here”
that always sings out of tune.
 
But she can still hear the call of the wild
emanating from deep memory stores
that uplifts and places her way over there
away from that place called “here”.
 
So there, over there, is where she goes
to find the true and meaningful
that always sustains and fortifies
while living in that place called “here”.
 
She goes and returns again, again,
but comes back refreshed and renewed
and always gives thanks again, again
for that beautiful place over there.
 
And it truly is beautiful!

Monday, January 8, 2024

Up and Out

And as her mind fills up, up, up,
with evil not ere known before
she knows to do a nightly scrub
and flush the knowledge out, out, out. 

But of the flush is it enough
to ensure no remnant there remains
to taint the essence of her being
and make her be as she is not? 

Although she ponders she well knows
she is today as she was then
and tomorrow she will be again
how she’s always been. 

There is no changing the true self
but sometimes pretence reigns supreme
and little signs along the way
are discarded from mind’s reservoir. 

But the day will come when evil says,
“To hell with this, I’m going out”
and she will see and then believe
all those discarded signs.
 

Too late, too late, she should have known
but the scrub and flush left her unarmed
to face the full import
of evil’s many wiles. 

So keep the signs within the mind
to be prepared and ready for
the time when people change
from what you thought was good and true!

Saturday, January 7, 2023

WORDS

The words that once were free at ease
recline beneath a willow tree
wishing so to climb, climb, climb,
to escape the evil on the ground. 

That evil is a devil thing that stabs
and stabs, stabs, stabs again,
till nought but “mush” remains to speak
of love and peace and harmony. 

And that “mush” sends up an ardent plea
to grow, grow, grow and grow some more,
to knock at last on heaven’s door
and ask, and ask, why, why, why, why. 

For now mere silence filters down
and words listen, listen more,
but nothing penetrates the shell
that survival put in place. 

But they know, of course, they know
because heaven speaks out loud
when the channel free of dirt and grime
picked up from that filthy ground. 

But how to make the channel free
for more than minutes in a day
and words ponder, ponder, ponder more,
until claimed by exhaustive sleep. 

You’ll see them there beneath the tree
but don’t disturb their reverie
because they will have to start again
from beginning till the end. 

How long it’s been, how long will be,
but I can’t tell you till I know
they’ve up and walked away
to regain their rightful place. 

And their rightful place a page of course
or three or four or more and more and more!

Tuesday, October 18, 2022

The sea today

 

Wind whips at the sea and she crests in anger
at the will of the life force that puts her on edge
for placed of nature she'd much rather flow
straight to the shore like a woman adored.

No friend the wind to pierce through her heart
and bleed her frustrated womanhood feel
into the rough of an unsettled life
like a figment created for picturesque worth
and not for the using, the feeling, tasting.

Sea sprays her ire right up to the sky
but it crashes back down into her mass
swallowed and swallowed so she can begin
making slow rolls towards calm repose.

Night hastens to come and relieve the sun
for the sentry of day no help in the fray
and the sea bids the night be her lover
to still the frenzy within.

Night settles at last on the sea’s many fears
the promise of peace still yet to be
and the sea believes like the seer in me
that everything comes to he who believes.

Meanwhile the rain and just so you know
tomorrow the wind will blow yet again!

Thursday, April 14, 2022

Missing

 

And as that gypsy emerged
from her bubble of silence
she wondered what happened that day
when life stole her earthly voice.
 
Was it the rain that washed it out,
the wind that blew it away,
or simply the evil of humankind
that burnt to ash each/every word?
 
It matters not; what’s gone is gone
but that gypsy knows to search the terrain
because the entrenched that’s missing today
not yet dead and buried.
 
If found could she then still verbalize
the intent of goodness, mercy, kindness,
and speak to the deaf of forever love
and belief in the everlasting?
 
Meanwhile the days relentless march on
while she struggles to remain undeterred
from the battle to retain her core beliefs
in a world so intent on evil.
 
She searches today, she struggles today,
but evil, that dastardly thing called “evil”,
attaches itself to her every day
and relentlessly marches on and on and on!

Saturday, March 27, 2021

The run and jump

 

She’s a baby at this thing called life
because she cannot understand
the lies, the greed, the arrogance
and that dreaded manipulation
that trips her up time and time again.
 
But babies grow and learn
and know to take little, little, steps,
before the run and jump
that takes them away and over.
 
I reckon she’s in mid jump
uncertain how or where she’ll land
but at least she is in motion
from years of immobility.
 
If I had a hat I would take it off
but I can bow from the waist down
and pay homage to the strength
that came out from the blue.
 
Yes, she was strong and is strong
now way up in the air
but will a cushion or a rock
be awaiting her “come-down”?
 
But such is life that no one knows
what a run and jump will lead to
but to stay as one immobile
a fate worse than death.
 
Please let’s pray that she will hand
upright on her feet
and live to tell of the heartache and grief
that will surely follow her all of her days!