we all are gypsies of a sort wandering traveling through this life other lives space and time here there and yon on roads less traveled - this is a written and visual journal of my own travels - imagined and/or real - come along with me - we'll dance among the stars under the sun and over the moon - share our stories around the campfire - come along -

this site is simply a streamofconsciousness rambling of words and images in which i find meaning and beauty - there is no organized order of thought or format -
poetry painting and writing on love and life and things thereof from the heart and through the eyes of a louisiana gypsy spirit travelin' roads less traveled...enjoy -


My photo
A...WOMAN IN MOTION WITH HAIR AS DARK AS NIGHT HER EYES WERE LIKE THAT OF A CAT IN THE DARK... SHE WAS A GYPSYWOMAN... she danced round and round... from the fire her face was all aglow... she was dancing... dancing... waiting for the RISING SUN... loving caring relationships are like THE RISING SUN...we are nourished by their warmth...we are energized by their strength...we grow in their light...we find shelter and solace there...they are our sanctuary... born in the sign of the sun, i am a true LEO-love the sun and its hot orange red fire-passionate in and about everything i do-i believe in instant chemistry charisma love/lust at first sight-in the magic of the eyes and the beauty of the soul-in the instant recognition familiarity in meeting someone from a past life and in the knowledge that we might meet in a future life-i believe that we are each ageless and flawless-i believe in the beauty of the moment-the whisper of yesterday-the hope of tomorrow-the power of forgiveness for even ourselves-the absolute and total beauty of love---[credit to brian hyland and curtis mayfield]

to dance with life

to dance with life
come dance with me...

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

the call of the wild...

the call of the wanton wild
echoes from the little child
even the gods by her beguiled

keeper of the key to all is she
she flies the cosmos in utter glee

for only she knows what will be
this little child this child banshee

the steed of atonement does she ride
while under his hoofs worlds collide
and from his tongue the dead now cry
their pleas for mercy all denied
as prophets do in her confide

broken branches of peace once spoke

now devoured in crimson smoke
from in her hand with firey stroke
or can it be the demons woke
there is no hiding under cloak

riddles ride the aeolian winds

spreading ashes of those who sinned
too late now their acts to defend
no more time their lives to mend

for unto them her wrath descends

ancient answers wing their way

eleusinian mysteries be their stay
to live again carved in clay
if only they knew how to pray
but charred remains color their days

voices trickling from the past
homeric hymns spun in glass
this and more the child forecast
she was the first and is the last

this little child born of the wild
whose virgin birth they did defile
and now pay all who did her rile

this little child


Nevine said...

I love this, Jenean. It sounds simple on the surface... at the beginning... but then you get wrapped in the storm of it all. The child... her power... what she knows... it seems we can never know. You are on quite a roll, lately, Jenean. And I'm enjoying as much of it as I can!



greetings nevine! well, you know, this is another of those times when the image itself wrote the story - literally - and i struggled a few days with it - i wrote a few lines and then would go back to them every few days but couldn't really get it moving - then i just pulled up the image and left it on the screen not really knowing which way she was going and letting her lead the way [actually, i do this quite a bit with certain images - let them sit in front of me and speak their own story] - and nothing but this ending felt right - anyway, thanks so much for your faithful inspiring words here! have a glorious day!

Trish and Rob MacGregor said...

Wow. Nevine's right. You get wrapped up in the storm.


hey trish! love those words, wrapped up in the storm, don't you? - may be another little verse from that!