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Category: Author
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A Two-Person ‘Rengay’
Poet Warriors
By David and Gypsie-Ami
db–poet-warrior
sword dripping with foes’ dark ink
pens mightier wordsgaof-words to save broken nations
chaos wrought by one spoiled childdb-borrowed wizard hat
brooms slosh through the marble hall
master still awaygaof-hallways void of life
empty rooms bleached of morals
the king’s throne vacantdb-termites raise earthen towers
authority of mere dustgaof-poet-warriors
raise your swords, smite the insects
let words defeat doom
Rengay?
Rengay is a form of linked verse created as an alternative to Japanese renga or renku. The form was devised by Garry Gay in California in 1992. A rengay consists of six thematic haiku verses and is normally composed by two or three poets, although solo and six-person rengay are not uncommon. The main goal of rengay is to have a theme that unifies all six verses. The form for two poets is as follows: A-3, B-2, A-3, B-3, A-2, B-3, with the letters representing the poet creating that verse.
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Gardening’s End
Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris One weed pulled
and then two,
It’s then I realized
that was all I could do.
Before I could plant
a full bush or a tree,
Years ago I never realized
it was then I was free.
Today as I tried
valiantly to stand,
I looked down
at the spade in my hand.
Slipping it back
into the waiting flower pot,
I had to turn and say goodbye
but I loved you a lot. -
My Shelter
In response to bwarren’s Sunday Whirl Wordle #746 You were my shelter
the rocks that formed my foundation
were lain by you
A step along the front line of defense
against the ravages of my flesh
leaving little more than a messy ghost behind
You rose to the fight
refusing to settle for the mere scrap
of woman I had become
You left unwillingly or perhaps willingly
who will ever know
not I as I lay here on the edge and tremble -
The Snowdrop Bush
In response to Bartholomew Barker’s
March Visual Poetry PromptHe asked her to place
his most favorite plant
in front of his headstone
on the grave where he would lay
She remembered as she sprawled prone
upon the grassy hillside
of the aged little cemetery
how he’d looked into her green-gray eyes
How he’d implored her to put the bush just here
where it would grow so well
requesting that a year after his death she gather
a flower bouquet to deeply inhale it’s fragrance
In this way he explained with love
and utter undying devotion
she would remember him truly
and together they would be again
As the world around her darkened and she could
no longer feel the green grass at her back
she thought of the lovely Snowdrop blooms
still clutched in her stiffening hands
What’d he’d said was real and true she now knew
as she faded into darkness she found him waiting
standing at the door to eternity holding a tuft
of poisonous Snowdrop’s in his hand -
FATE
Paying attention
no cell phone
no texting
no drinking or eating
and still it happened
Not speeding
not swerving
not daydreaming
not tailgating or rough-shodding
and still it happened
A flash of brown
then another
then a sickening thud
then a screech or a cry I’m not sure
and the beautiful doe now lay dead
Cruel are these contriving manipulative fates
deciding life
deciding death
deciding who or what can go on
and leaving the rest here to wonder why -
Relapse
In response to Bartholomew Barker’s Monday Poetry Prompt: RELAPSE It draws me in
it’s sparkling white powder
beckoning hungrily
Just a little – it taunts
a taste that is all
it lures me with it’s deceptive spell
The twisting begins
low in my stomach
the wanting and then the needing
Tortuous waiting
knowing failure
stalks me upon each hour deprived
Within the darkened kitchen
tucked into the corner cabinet
the clear baggy awaits retrieval
My fingers tremble
in desperate anticipation
reaching to grab my treasure
Only a nip or two
I tell myself but soon
the entire contents are devoured
White powder sticks to my lips
I lick my fingers clean
the sugary donut is gone –
diabetic coma be damned
that was good! -
A Promise
In response to bwarren’s Sunday Whirl Wordle #745 A promise is
a shroud of lies
Obscured by the glow
of the summer moon
Secret symbols
of stolen love
Cross a rock strewn trail
sinking beneath dirty water
Bloody tracks glisten
in the sun
Marking the spot where his spear
pierced her swollen heart -
Outlived
What were your parents doing at your age?
My mother a smoker
as a very young girl,
because smoking was sexy
it was all the rage,
sadly never saw my age,
I am ten years past
the year she let go.Father, not one to be left alone,
quickly turned around and married
a mean little witch,
such a switch it was
because a mother she would never be,
she murdered my father
at age only seventy-three. -
Insurance Dilemma
Diabetes is a sneaky tricky disease
makes you crave foods that you can never have
an obsession the likes of an addict of sugar
Chocolate cake with the sweetest frosting
then a dab or two of chilly ice cream
and a bright red cherry to top it all off
Oh no says my nemesis my angst and my bane
you should not have indulged
poke poke poke the needles again
Finally comes a miracle to aid in the fight
instead of five shots or more each day of my life
this one just once a week must I brave
What a reprieve what a joy
test results come my way
glucose stable at last I think I’m saved
No no no the insurance rep balks
too easy for you is this new fangled drug
it’s back to vials and needles and pricks to be done
I’m wondering now why I bother at all
to visit my doctor and his wonderful staff
when in truth insurance is in charge of it all
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 