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...

Friday, September 27, 2013

red sun setting...

it was the time
of white stars shining
the spring of the deep forest dent
when sadness settled in
like the gods' seven signs
and the screaming storms
filled the canyons tall
                                                      and the deer ran wild
                                                      and the buffalo roamed
it was the time
of the red sun setting
the summer of all hell bent
when sorrow sprang up
through the orange trumpet vine
and the bleeding clouds
filled the rivers red
                                                      and the deer ran wild
                                                      and the buffalo roamed
it was the time
of red leaves falling
the autumn of anguish
when agony rolled in
like a cancer’s sick slime
and the blistering hail
filled the white devils’ pail
                                                     and the deer ran wild
                                                     and the buffalo roamed
it was the time
of the pale moon rising
the winter of discontent
when grief reigned down
on the green mountain pine
and the howling winds
filled the barren skies
                                                   and the deer ran wild
                                                   and the buffalo roamed
it was the time
the time of                                 white stars shining
                                                   pale moon rising
                                                   red leaves falling
                                                   red sun setting
it was the time
the time when                           white on red maliciously tread
                                                  red on red no longer bred
                                                  red and red no longer red
and the
red son met                               the spring of the deep forest dent
                                                  the summer all hell bent
                                                  the autumn of anguish
                                                  the winter of discontent

and the red sun set

it was the time
the red sun set                         and the deer no longer ran wild
                                                 and the buffalo roamed no more
it was the time
of the red son
                                                 no more
and the red sun




Trish said...

I can almost hear this set to music, Gypsy. With tambourines, Gypsy music, something with powerful rhythm. Love it.

Nevine Sultan said...

Dearest Jenean,

It's such a pleasure to be reading your words again. It's been such a long time since I enjoyed the enchantment of your thoughts... but, here we are once again.

Thank you for this morsel of honesty, draped in the beauty that only you know how to create. I look forward to reading you again... on a regular basis.

Have a lovely Sunday, Jenean!


Nyssa Wagner said...

I felt this in my blood and bones. amazing ♥


thanks so much trish - it's another of those written from my car while i was out and about in the sun -


how absolutely wonderful to have you drop by again dear dear nevine! i've missed our visits and am determined be back in blogland more frequently than has been possible the last year - and you know, i've always been one of your biggest fans! thanks so much for coming by and i look forward to more in the future! much love - j


many thanks nyssa! such kind words are more than gratifying and i'm so happy you liked these words -

Pat said...

Such powerful words.
Such passion.


thank you so much, pat - this issue is one about which i feel very passionately - so glad you liked -