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, September 7, 2011

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 fiery 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


linda said...

i think this is so cool and love the art--it's perfect... this line "she flies the cosmos in utter glee " just made me grin, i could feel exactly the message you were conveying....just wonderful...thank you for sharing your amazing talent. xxx

Trish said...

The words and the rousseau images fit together seamlessly. Just love this poem, Gypsy.


i love this little piece too linda! the world can never have too many powerful girl children! ;)


thanks so much trish - i love this of rousseau's too - when i came across it, it was as if it had been painted just for this piece - and i think this piece has a nice flow/rhythm too that i like a bunch!