Author: Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Hosted by Stine Writing

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Sunday Wordless Wordless #552

Hosted by bwarren

The bar was packed, as it usually was on Saturday nights. It was an eclectic group that met there sometimes. Folks who generally never congregated, that’s a fancy word for partying or praying together; got together to get drunk and basically make fools of each other.

Why do they make fools of each other you wonder? Well, I am very happy to shovel up the dirt on the lot of them.

You see, on these particular Saturday night’s, all those physics people come down here from that big fancy college of theirs, to drink and snack and well, you know. Anyway, the college folk come thinking they are so much more sophisticated than the town folks are, wearing the gold and silver the town folks have mined. Least they think they are!

You see, we have our own psychics wiz in Henry over there. You know he’s only eleven years old? He’s what they call a savant, a right smart boy he is. Don’t talk much, but he don’t need to. Well, he used what he calls alchemy and made up a recipe that turns copper into gold or silver and the town sells it to the rich, but it’s not worth the copper little Henry starts with.

Thing is you know, by the way little Henry’s my son; that fancy college found out about Henry’s concoction and offered us a fair piece of cash if we’d give them the patent for it, and we did. Except, my smart Henry changed one of those numbers in the recipe he gave them; after they brought the cash. So, Henry has the real alchemy recipe, the cash and the gold and silver. Everyone of them’s a clod of manure if you ask me.

By the way, we’re leaving town first thing tomorrow morning …

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

A response to Thursday’s Six Sentence Story Link-up – Prompt Word: CONTROL
By: GirlieOnTheEdge
and Keith’s Ramblings response to Thursday’s Six Sentence Link-up Prompt Word – CONTROL
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Here I am yet again, stuck between two cushions, I can hear Keith fussing while he is looking for me.

But, I’m going to keep my slim little self right here between these cushions and keeping my buttons to myself.

It’s not my fault he pushes too many buttons at one time, confusing my circuits and criss-crossing them until they give me a splitting headache and I have to freeze all my connections to keep from short-circuiting.

Then, just as I do get warm and comfy in his hand, and those lovely sausage fingers begin to push my buttons in just the right way, what does he do mind you?

That’s right, tosses me aside like yesterday’s Xbox unwieldy game controls and boy does that rankle this little remote’s feelings, causing all of my buttons to shut down and I just turn myself off completely, no buttons, no lights, no tv changing channels all through the night.

So, I can hear Keith out there calling me like a common can opener, but I’ll show him, I’ll – oomph – Keith, Keith, get off, get offfffffffff.

Wonder if the Supreme Court voted in this proclamation too!?!

This week CFFC is celebrating Crooked or Squiggly. Basically anything but straight lines. Make sure the squiggle or crooked part is clearly visible in your photo. Have fun.

TEACHING THE ART OF COMPOSITION FOR PHOTOGRAPHY.

My first entry is an old vine I found on a tree that looks like a dragon head to me!

Second entry is a tree that had no wish to grow straight!

Just a pretty, squiggly vine.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

The bombs continue to tear and rip and kill
blasts echo within my chest
as my heart beats no more

How can it beat as my precious ones
hearts beat no longer – stilled by unholiness
stopped by the greed of man

The greed of man has stripped me
of my life my very soul torn from
the very essence within me

They lay here forever entombed
in the ground of a country
they no longer belonged to

Innocence halted tiny minds assaulted
by that they could never understand
will never have the chance to understand

nor will I

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Response to Go Dog Go Cafe
05/04/22 Haibun Wednesday Spring Prompt
Hosted by DONNA MATTHEWS

look at me
the buds all say
releasing fragrant spray

The rays of the sun warm the cold ground, tiny roots begin to stir stretching from their cold slumber toward the warmth. Deep, thick roots groan, awakened by their children above.

The ground softens giving way, allowing deep roots access to the previously frozen, nutrient packed soil. Sun warmed and nutrient fed, green leaves sprout joyfully, pushing white sparkling buds forth. The sweet, aromatic smell of Gardenia’s perfume the air in celebration of Spring.

I’m very excited to share with everyone that two poems from my collection have been selected for publication in Anthology-Wounds I Healed: The Poetry of Strong Women. Thank you Gabriela Marie Milton (Editor) and Ingrid Wilson (Experiments in Fiction) for your belief in my work and thank you everyone who has read, commented on and/or assisted me in my writing and critique groups. You are all very wonderful poets, writer’s and authors! Gypsie-Ami

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

“Look Mama! The trees are dancing again!”

The tiny mother fairy flitted closer to her even tinier girl-child, enjoying the wonder on her daughters face as she watched the magic of the forest.

“They dance for you my little one, a very special honor because it means you are an Earth fairy, to protect and nourish all things of the Earth, living and inert my little love.”

“You mean like the dancing trees and singing rocks Mama, like those you mean and the rivers and animals and humans too Mama, right?”

“Well, I, I had never considered it but, as you said it then it must be so my child, so yes, humans too, although you know it is forbidden to be seen by one, don’t you?”

“Yes Mama, then we need to leave right away because a whole bunch of them, the humans are coming with their sharp things and nets and noise and look, the trees have already stopped dancing, come on Mama, come on, hurry, hurry Mama!”

The Painting By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

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Not good enough
Never good enough
Always I am lacking

Hours and hours
I paint and I paint
Always I am slacking

Brushes move to and fro
In and out dipping and flicking
Always I am retracting

No forward movement
Unable to break through
Always I am counteracting

The lake so calm so blue
This painting I will gift to you
Always I am detaching