Author: Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Why must I always be different,
from everyone around me?
A Green Witch in Spring,
tending my garden loves.

A Siren in Summer,
swimming from shore to shore.
Fall brings Mabon to the woods,
I am the Autumn Equinox.

The fierce winds of Winter whirl,
My breath blows as Cailleach Bheur.
Although harsh and sometimes haggard,
I hold new life beneath the frozen stone.

To be a regular girl in life,
no omens portending an ominous sign,
No witchcraft to aid the metamorphosis of life,
but then I could not fly a circle in the sky.

In response to Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – Mainly Orange
Posted by Sue W – nansfarm.net  
and Gerry C – themainaisle.com

I can not help it
I can only see
A great orange pumpkin
when he speaks on tv

His head is topped
with a rug dyed pumpkin orange
His skin it’s tinted to match
as if he’s had the scourge

Just like the one carved for treats
his pumpkin head you see
it’s very empty and quite void
A pumpkin king is he

The same as that big holiday fruit
his mouth is wide
his eyes are blank
there’s nothing left inside

He speaks with mindless thought
of course to what he’s going to say
words of nonsense spill on out
Not a single thought does he convey

Watch out for scary pumpkin heads
especially when they gain in power
When Halloween’s gone and he’s installed
our country he will devour!

My piece titled “A Shadow” has been accepted for publication in the “Ghost Echoes and Shadows Anthology,” published by Local Gems Press! The publication may be preordered here:

Thank you Local Gems Press for your continued support!!

In response to Bartholomew Barker’s, Living Poetry Monday Poetry Prompt – Silhouette

The woman in that silhouette,
that is certainly, definitely not me.
I can stand straight and tall,
that woman’s stance is stooped and small.

That wooden cane she wields there,
does not belong to me at all.
My daily exercise keeps my curves just fine,
that pudgy shape there, is definitely not mine.

It seems that she is wracked with age,
her gate is slow and filled with pain.
Her hair is short and curled so tight,
my hair is long and shines quite bright.

The shoes on her feet are flat and demure,
on my feet, only cowboy boots will do.
She totters along, her feet a mere scuffle,
I love to dance to old Cupid’s Shuffle.

The woman in that silhouette,
that is certainly, definitely not me.
I look away from the image,
that is lying to me.

Arms encircle to say hello
voices coo and nurses too
when the lucky ones are born
into a happy loving home

Same is true when in the end
within a loving circle of family and friends
with hushed and reverent goodbyes
they send one back to where it began

Not true for those brought into
a family of strife discordance
with little thought to what they wrought
with their angry words and thoughtlessness

For this one birthed without the love
of parents following the flock
In the end as in the beginning
she entered this life very alone
and will leave the same way in kind

Arms encircle to say hello
voices coo and nurses too
when the lucky ones are born
into a happy loving home

Same is true when in the end
within a loving circle of family and friends
with hushed and reverent goodbyes
they send one back to where it began

Not true for those brought into
a family of strife discordance
with little thought to what they wrought
with their angry words and thoughtlessness

For this one birthed without the love
of parents following the flock
In the end as in the beginning
she entered this turbulent life alone
and will leave the same way in kind

Hearts scattered down the long trail
red turns to crimson and yellow
streak behind three forgotten mantras

Respect, Integrity, Honor
twirl above the abyss
limbs bend beneath the onslaught

Faint quivers rock the nation
innocence howls in protest
while bags of deceit are counted

Can’t sleep
without your arms
around me

Can’t walk
without you
by my side

Can’t stand
the lonely coldness
days running into night

Can’t think
of the long tomorrows
forever and always alone

Can’t eat
tasteless dinners
need your luscious fare

Can’t drink
a single drop
wine’s lost it’s fragrant air

Can’t remember
how to live my life now
that you are gone away

Quadrille #208 – Undead to the World
Hosted by dorahak

(Instructions: Welcome to dVersian votaries of the quadrille form, a 44-word poem original to dVerse whose only requirement other than word count is that you must include the word provided – VAMPIRE.)

He walks by day,
enters by night.
His bite not to your neck,
but tears right through your heart.

Beware the one with the piercing eyes,
a gentleman, a courtier, a polished man.
‘Til the lights go out and then you meet –
your doom!

She fell slowly, gracefully,
never giving in.
Never letting go,
her roots embedded deep.

Her roots embedded deep,
into the soil
of Mother Earth,
holding on to life.

Holding on to life,
defying deaths grip.
Relinquishing nothing
into the cloying arms of nothingness.

The cloying arms of nothingness
ate arduously at her thick roots.
Severing the tiny tendrils and outshoots
before going in for the killing blow.

The killing blow hit fast and hard,
the way hurricanes and bad weather do.
Where once the stately old tree stood proud,
now only her skeleton can be seen.

A whispering breath
utters cruel words
sorrow spreads
devouring dreams
rendering golden promises
into dust licked away by the wind

A mother stands motionless
a window in her kitchen
faces the raging river
rapids spin dangerous whirlpools
offering no escape except one
she watches the white gown descend