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, February 16, 2011

boston rose - as told by "the rose" herself...

this is a song i've just heard from a friend's place - a beautiful love story of two lovers destined to be apart - it is sung magnificently from the man's perspective as here in this video - but i thought it might do well to be heard from her perspective - from the perspective of the rose - and so, i have played with the words a bit and put them together as i imagine the rose herself might tell the story - enjoy:


‘twas a night like any other night in her life save for the magnificent full moon watching o’er her as she slept -

the same loving moon as looked down on him, there ‘cross the emerald isle -

him - he who had taken her heart with just the stroke of his pen - he who had stolen it away with his indigo ink -

and that night of the magnificent full moon he came to her in dreams -

he came to her as fully as if he had crossed those big waters and lay there himself beside her -

whispering into her heart all those words only sung in songs before -

he had come to bid her a fond farewell he said and he told her of his leaving, of his journey to a land far far away – a  journey only he could make -

and  under the light of the moon he whispered that he would ne’er forget her while he’s away – 

that on those nights when he’s alone,  he would think of her in visions from far far away, cross those emerald isles -

he would think of her with a fire burning deep inside – a fire no one else but she could ignite he whispered -

and on the nights of full moon in the heavens dark, as he flew gently by, he would look down upon her and call to her through the sleeping sky -

and so it was – that night of the full moon last that he came to her in dreams – a dream from which she was unable to tell from reality in the light of next day -

how she wished that he were there – with her – but she knew that’s how life goes -

and so it is that she, too, would wait – would wait for him – would think of him with a burning fire deep inside and on nights alone, he would come into her mind – into her dreams – from there, ‘cross the emerald isle –

she had no doubt of that – nor doubt of his return – for, after all, he – the one who had stolen her heart –  the one who had flown away with her beating heart through nights of indigo ink, he - he was the mighty phoenix - the one destined to return time and time again - and this time, to her -

and she, well, so the story goes, she was the girl who lived south of boston -
- the girl he called
his rose -


Sixpence and A Blue Moon said...

Wow!!! I love YOUR words.
I guess I feel that the pain is the only tangible thing left, and it is at least...something.
You write from the heart. I love it. I feel so much of what you feel.


hmmm...yes, perhaps pain is the only thing left - for now, that is - the pain of waiting - of being apart - the almighty pain of passion!

it is so wonderful - so humbling - to have someone understand one's thoughts - words - to have another soul "get it" - and i thank you for that, dear lady!

Sausage Fingers said...

Your fire kept burning for all that time. Love that is, true love and something that cannot be silenced or even questioned. When true love burns through our veins the passion and the power is enough to move mountains, or even cross oceans.
Cheers and congrats.....


so right, fingers - the power and passion of true love - the glory of it all - how sweet it is!!!

lovely to have you come 'round - come again soon! always love dropping by your place even if i don't always leave a note!

have a great day there in the land of sunshine!

Trish and Rob MacGregor said...

Love your perspective!


;) thanks so much trish -

you know, i'd not heard this beautiful love song before yesterday - and i was so smitten with it - especially because the story was one i know so well - so i thought it needs be told from the female perspective just for a bit of balance - so glad you like!