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, November 16, 2011

rusty nails...

like rusty nails
gouged into wooden pails
bleedin’ out in crimson streams
dreams decayed laid to rest
in windblown nests

wanderin’ the wastelands
of times erased by desert sands
ain’t nothin’ never for free
hope now a tarnished memory
walkin’ those lonesome streets
of my heart’s ghost town
lost love now satan bound
empty but for the
tumblin’ tumbleweeds
the devil’s seeds
silent but for the ragin’ screams
of my dyin’ dreams

 like rusty nails


OldOldLady Of The Hills said...

OH WOW!!! This is heavy-duty-pain.....Wonderfully visual and visceral, too....!


we all have that heavy duty pain, don't we, naomi - from this or that - or from rusty nails - it's all relative i guess - i seem to have had the burnin' churnin' southwest on my literal mind of late! so wonderful to have you come by - thanks so much - and for the kind words!

Trish said...

Visceral. I second that. Your writing is like a force of nature, Gypsy.


oh, trish, thank you so much - a force of nature, perhaps - my heart does weep like the pouring rain and breaks to the rhythm of the crushing waves of a tsunami - when i think sometimes of him -