the pretty little girl and the hen...

there once was a pretty little girl
with a head full of long ringlet curls

satin ribbons and bows adorned her long hair
she much preferred just going all bare

the mother dressed her in crispy white frocks
pretty white sandals and sheer sheer socks
 

layers and layers of ruffles she wore
she hated it all when she was but four
    
staying inside was not her thing
she’d much rather be out on the big rope swing

pleasing the mother though was what she did
after all, she was just a little kid

then one day the mother left for a while
and out the door she raced with a smile

under the big oak tree she did sit
playing in the grass she could not quit

she sat and sat and wiggled her toes
and watched the clouds row after row

dreaming and floating and dreaming some more
all she wanted was the mother to love to adore

she thought if she had just one special gift
the mother’s dark mood surely would lift    

she loved the chirps of the little birds
if only she could sing without words

so she blew and blew and blew again
before she knew it she heard a sweet strain

again and again the sounds whispered through her lips
now she’d surely win the mother’s kiss

pleasing the mother was what she wanted to do
after all, she was just a little kid who needed love too

then the mother came home to her delight
and with her gift to make things bright

the little girl whistled and whistled with all her might
but the mother just looked down with her mouth all tight

 

and said to the pretty little girl

with the ringlet curls

a whistling woman and a crowing hen
always come to a very bad end!

lost...

feel

so
lost
can’t see
outside
of
me
through
the

dark
hole
in my heart
feel
so

lost
can’t see
inside

of
me
try
as
i
might
can’t find

the

light
feel

so

lost

.

.

.

gypsywoman gypsywoman...

gypsywoman gypsywoman

i see you here

i see you there

i see you everywhere
but who are you gypsywoman

with sweet words and a pretty smile
your spirit tempts taunts

but do i dare 
would you could you be

 the gentle breeze here today 

and gone tomorrow 
softly fluttering 

sooth my aching heart

ease my hidden sorrow

 * * * * * 

a gentle breeze i am not 

i am the storm of storms a gale force wind
the tempest fierce

the raging tsunami taking with it all defenses
sweeping away washing away

the debris of yesterday 

this life transcend
so do you want to know 

to really know the who and what of me
or would you rather just imagine me 

on the playground of what if
where your heart of stone

is safe and sound 

from the likes of 

me

this wild banshee

~

a west texas dust storm kinda love...

i want me some

west texas dust storm

kinda love

                    plowing

                    pounding

i want the kind that 
rams into me like

a gale force wind

comin’ in 
striking me with

all its fury

knocking me out

of my arid reality

penetrating through

the outer layers

past the buffers

in between                  

                   plunging

                    puncturing

i want the kind that

shows no clemency

movin’ me

in ways inexplicable

entangling my hair

stinging my eyes

stirring my heart

ripping my soul apart

ramming deeper and deeper

grinding down and round

oozing into that deep dark

core of no return 

penetrating

permeating

i want the kind that

drives the gusts

of love unbridled

transporting me from

the lifeless illusion

and hard dry surface of

my existence

suspending me in time

eroding all of what was

depositing what is into

the lush oasis of love

unknown before

                    piercing the heart

                    piercing the flesh

                    merciless

yeah, i want me some

west texas dust storm

kinda love

                    electrifying

                    death-defying

silent night...

the

maidens ate the poisoned fruit 

given them by tongues made mute

and know not then their act imputes
the hiding of the sacred flute

the waters rampant they do run
through the night and to the sun
and in their rage the deed is done
the evil web now is spun

and if the earth should quake and shake
the gods reject and do forsake
and if of knowledge they partake
the virgins left they burn at stake

now the raging rivers sweep away
all the signs of those who stay
there is no hope for them who pray
the gods are gone from these last days

the tiger roars its ancient cries
as prophets shout from burning skies
and angels float to their demise

now silent those who are to die

now silent
all

.

.

.

woman...

i am called woman
i am all that you see
and so much more

three in one all compiled
i am the wee girl child
choosing you from before
to carry me then set me free

i am the lover banshee
quenching desire from every shore
leaving all who linger more beguiled

i am the earth mother styled
to hold you to love you then have you soar
to be the wee girl child the lover banshee the all of me

i am called woman

the caged heart...

little bird

little bird

how do you chirp

far too captured

too enraptured

to wander forth

to flee the door
to close the door

little bird

little bird

how do you chirp

far too captured

too enraptured

to wander forth
to fly to soar

to love and more

life untried

locked inside

the dreams you make

the dreams
no one can take...
.

would you like to hear the words spoken?

been so long...

been so long since the sun did shine
in this little ole’ heart of mine 

body’s all tired an’ depressed

makes me think its possessed 

pregnant spirit bout to burst

beginnin’ to see it’s a curse 

ain’t had no lovin’ in such a long time

just hope i ain’t gotta turn to no crime 

don’t know which is worse

love hunger or spirit thirst 

neither one ain’t no good

but you know i done what i could 

gotta wash away all this glum

need me a little jamaican rum 

slip on my red dancin’ shoes
step on out in life all new 

git me a bite of somethin’ sweet

have me a little suga’ treat 

gonna do more’n what i can

an' git me a good-lovin’ man!

would you like to hear the words spoken?

the lionman sits...

the lionman sits in stone-carved wait 

for all the children at his gate

the days are short the time draws near
and peace comes not to those who fear

for it is said that in the end
what it was will just begin

those who were will be again
you could be you or maybe kin

the seers know for what to see
as what they see will come to be

there is no secret to believe
no gods seek thee to deceive

the key to all is given all
to save themselves from the fall

to live now to live again
is simple really it’s all within
 

the ancient kings hold not the key
‘tis your own soul will set you free

 

‘tis you and you alone you see
who will decide to be or not to be

the lionman sits in sun and sand
your lives not his to command

he sits
he waits...

a re-post from travel journal - enjoy!

the gypsy seer...

she lives in a time
unknown by most
a time when love
is her life’s host

she travels a road

less walked by most

a trail through hills

and down the coasts

she dreams in colors

not seen by most

and spends her days

with rainbows close

she sees in visions

not had by most

and paints her thoughts

in gold grandiose

she dies a death

not shared by most

and winds her way

with kindred

ghosts
.
.
.

the gypsy wakes...

i woke up this mornin'
wantin’ some
soft mellow bliss

some snow white happiness
didn’t wanna hafta dress
with banks of icy drifts
up against my front door
from down at the floor
up to the roof

 yeah, i woke up this mornin'
wantin’ that bad ole’ blizzard
to have come and gone
way ‘fore dawn
leavin’ behind its powdery flakes
like sparklin’ diamonds on a silvery lake

 

but much ta my dismay
i woke up this mornin’
to a dark dreary day
all yucky and gray
rainin’ and rainin’ some more
wet stuff galore

i woke up this mornin’
layin’ here on my blanket of red
dreadin’ gettin’ outta bed
but dreadin’ stayin’ in it
cause you ain’t here
ta hold me near

yeah, i woke up this mornin’
wantin’ some
soft mellow bliss
so come on over now
come on over and
 

gimme

a

little

kiss

.

.

.

brownskin woman...

brownskin woman,

you my kin?

dancin’ round in mortal sin
swirlin’ to the strings of a mando’lin
rustlin’ skirts blowin’ in tha wind
hair put up with those fancy pins
arms flyin’ high from tha spirit within
men settin’ round swiggin’ on gin
bettin’ on who’s gonna win
don’t care when the night’s gonna end
all gonna stay at the caravan inn
so ya’ll come on let the fun begin
 

brownskin woman, 

you my kin?

said the earth to the sun...

let me hold you gently still 

lay you down upon my hills 

cast your light to warm my chill 

let me hold you gently still 

for all of life we do fulfill