Author: Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Hosted by Journeys With Johnbo

Photograph’s by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

She never felt a thing
not the first twinge
not the sharp impale
of debilitating pain
That came later

Upon her chest
a tight white bandage
wound tautly to staunch
or assist in her life’s
blood seeping from her

His back to her he walked away
Red splotches forming
upon the stark white cloth
widening with each
of his retreating steps

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Night drips through the hours
as molasses through a sieve.
Each tormented minute
measured by the clocks
onerous ticking.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Daylight streams through mottled
curtains just as sleep begins
to claim the nights wakeful victim.
Suns rays beat on a body assailed
by age, despair and loneliness.

Blackness creeps over the sea,
across the mountains and valleys
to persecute it’s innocent pawn.
Robbing her, stealing from her
the rejuvenating slumber to heal.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Each turn of the Equator
around and around the sun.
Facing in, facing out
trailing into years that in the end,
become mere seconds in time.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Crimson’s Creative Challenge #200 #Consequences Posted by Bob Fairfield

Little did she know
Had she known
A monumental
Error she would make

She would never
Not even have ever
Popped herself in there
In her kinetic frenzy

The bottle neck
Unholy diminutive
No handholds
No footholds to get out

Her destiny
Now unfolds
The consequence
Of impulsivity

To be trapped
Within this cell
Of glass to float
For all eternity

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

When there is no answer
to the question asked
Do we ask the question anyway

When an alternate path
never rises before us
How do we know where to go

When clouds obscure the sun
blocking its healing rays
Will we shield our fragile eyes

When the rain doesn’t fall
upon the parched Earth
Shall we plant our gardens faithfully

When our coffers grow bare
leaving only one can to fare
Should we share the last one

When unparalleled love
knocks on our locked door
Dare we open our wounded heart

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

3TC hosted by pensitivity101
Three Things Challenge #M78

Your three words today are:
DRESS
SKIRT
SHIRT

I’m wondering why
Exactly that is –
why I can’t wear
a shirt for a skirt!

Or in the interest
of time and creativity
couldn’t I wear
a dress for a shirt

Then pair my dress
that’s a shirt
with my shirt
that’s a skirt

Leaving the skirt
at home where it belongs
not being the prettiest
skirt not even as a shirt!

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Really darling, the gray tabby complained, I really do not think this ploy, this experiment of yours is going to work.

A muscular, short-haired minx answered her slow southern, drawn-out drawl with short, staccato bursts of sound resembling the voice of none other than, Danny Davito.

It will work perfectly my love, you will see. The birds will come flocking and all we will have to do is pluck them right off – easy as pie and more delicious too!

He paced back and forth in front of her, rearranging the slice of bread to his liking.

Um, love, you really do need to keep your mouth closed. I fear those little peepers won’t come near while you’re showing your teethers! He chuckled heartily at his bit of rhyme, she was not amused.

Reginald, this is NOT working and more than that, should the Ladies of House Number 3 happen to see me like this, I’ll be the laughing stock of the entire cat community!

The tabby tried to wriggle out of the very unattractive piece of bread now hanging around her neck.

Tabatha wait! The minx tried to warn her, too late. The tabby tumbled off the ledge, through the dining room window and onto the middle of the dining room table where the in-law’s had just sat down to dinner.

The stout, sour faced mother-in-law jumped to her feet.

That’s it! I’ve had enough, I am at my limit! Now we have an animal serving our dinner bread and that dog of yours, Chief was it? Is doing something untoward to my leg beneath the table. We are leaving!

After they had gone, the couple began to laugh. Presently the husband asked his wife,

How did you manage to get that piece of bread onto Tabatha’s neck dear one?

His wife looked at him blankly, quite innocently actually.

I would never do such a thing. Not to your mother and certainly not to our poor little Tabatha, she said.

Then in a soft, conspiratorial whisper she said,

But Reginald would.

The End

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris In response to Sadje’s promptWhat do you see # 149 – August 29, 2022 There I am on the outsidedifferent but somehow …

Always Separate

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

sparrows, vast, stillness, hope, face, silent, check, pulpit, lack, whisper, kiss, map

She stood at the pulpit, crystalline tears running down her cheeks.
Across the vast universe, she saw
past the blinking stars dotting
the black morass of space.

Through mammatus clouds bubbling
beneath her feet, where they hung
suspended above All.
Sparrows flew below the damp cover landing on a bird feeder full of seed.

Raising her face to the brilliant sun,
hope whispered along her features.
Her lack of guile and pure innocence checked all who would judge her.
None could, silent stillness reigned.

Archangel Gabriel extended his hand,
retrieving the unearthly map
he had gifted her so many years ago.
He kissed her gently, enfolded her within his wings and flew her home.