Author: Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Dear Gypsie-Ami,

Just a quick note to let you know your poetry will be published on The Short of It/I Write Her on 6/14/24. It will go live at Midnight. Feel free to share this post with your friends or on social media.

https://iwriteher.com/2024/06/14/gypsie-ami-offenbacher-ferris/

Also, in an effort to give The Short of It more visibility, please consider reblogging this post on your blog. Hopefully, it will encourage or inspire other fellow writers to participate as well! Thanks again for sharing your work with me! It was such a pleasure to read your poems.
Have a great day!
Susi Bocks
Editor-in-Chief
The Short of It

In response to OFMARIAANTONIA’s Photo Challenge #5 FLOWER POWER

The urge overcame him. With a thunder crack loud enough to split delicate ears, a heavy wind rolled in, dark clouds swept from the sky with its intensity. Moonlight scrawled across the heavens untethered, it was the full moon.

The ritual had not been completed, he was not ready. Not prepared. His loping trample took him through the brambles meant to protect her, in the house, from him.

A slight hum enveloped him. She was singing, her lilting voice sweeter than bees honey, calling him. Calling him to her. He waited, preparing to leap on her the moment she drew closer.

Spring is here! Spring is here!
Little budding flowers cheer,
their heads pop up from meadows fair
a colorful frenzy everywhere.

Pink and yellow, red and white,
such a magnificent colorful sight,
stemlike necks lift to full height,
as fragile petals dance in delight.

A friend to them is the rain,
never are the buds afraid,
deeply rooted they stand tall,
beautiful flowers until the Fall.

That’s when budding flowers grown,
drop their petals until all gone,
burying deep within the ground,
until next Spring they come back around.

We don’t know
life that we squander
until it’s too late

Craving a it all
a plate full of yummy
A forkful of sweetness
how bad it is for me

Never allowed
to have the main dish
Bits and pieces only
no matter my wish

To know it’s all mine
what a thoughtful delight
Not wanting to share
maybe give up on the fight

Not knowing what’s worse
a bit now and then
Or give it all up
and never have it again

Ropes bind wrists
bruised dark purple
against marble pure skin

Legs move restless
waiting for a chance to escape
the flickering candlelight

Waves of hypnotic chanting
slip into her soul
leaving an empty void behind

An ornate fan disperses incense
her pulse slows to its rhythm
her eyes close and she sleeps

Who shall ever elect the Cabinet, but the cabinet makers themselves who should of course, be the actual members of the Cabinet meant to not only advise the President of the United States but, be prepared as his acceptable emergency stand-in replacement.

In response to TWT’s 8th-Week prompt – Knight, in 20 words.