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For submission of my poem, “His Gift.”

thepoetrymarathon.com

Soul cries as love clashes
wasted moments wasted lives
Ignorant misuse of time gifted
filled with accusations and lies

Eyes closed to natures beauty
ears deaf to words of love
Senses dulled by mundane issues
hearts sealed to all above

Turn away from anger and angst
walk away from mournful dysphoria
Wave away the darkening mist
of evil’s wish for mass hysteria

Find strength within the beauty of self
negate the need for tempting addictions
Forego the hand that offers false biologics
embrace your personal interdictions

My favorite place is not walking the beach
or watching the stars shine in the midnight sky.
It’s not going to the Friday night hop and drop
or eating Grandma’s famous pecan pie.

Although to Hawaii I’d love to travel,
or take a safari down an African river.
Those all I’m sure are wondrous places,
but do not create a whole body shiver.

A roaring fire in the dead of winter,
with steaming cups of hot spiced cocoa.
Sounds real nice but, it’s not there either,
not even floating on the Orinoco.

My favorite place in the whole universe,
is curled up beside your long, tall frame.
Right here wrapped within your loving warmth,
safe and sound in your arms again.

In response to dVerse Poets Pub call for poetry submissions to their 2026 Anthology: Krisis: Poetry at the Crossroads

Her door is always swinging
a chaotic rhythm only she can hear
No rhyme or cadence evident
except in her own ear

She cares not who might come through
not who that malicious door might harm
If she takes a dislike to me or you
she’ll slam it shut with a straight forearm

Whether a weekday or weekend
doesn’t make any sense at all
That such a beauty chooses this
before all is her love for alcohol

One too many times that evil door
has hit me square upon my face
Though I’ll love her for all days
no more can I run her loosing race

I stood beyond that destructive door
now hanging by hinges bent and doomed
Walked away with a heavy heart
from the child birthed from my womb

In response to:

Dew drops glide across your silken folds,
delicate petals of pink turn dark at the watery touch.
The heaviness of moisture plumps your inner pistils,
preparing you for the entrance of pollen laden bees.

Spring in its glorious renewal, its decadent nascency,
guides all creatures; flora, fauna, two legged and more to join in the joyful chaos that precedes
and proceeds the creation of life.

Each drenched petal surrenders into its release,
floating demurely on the breeze, rising and falling
before gently tumbling into the arms of the Earth,
a sweet, recognizable scent permeating its berth.

Operation Quack was in place, the team at the ready. The baited pram expertly modified to attract any vanilla, non-chocolate perpetrators within. This sting was set and would work, this time. Investigator Donald blew his duck whistle.
“Go!”

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

My poem “Some of my Favorite Things” has been published by Silver Birch Press today in response to their request for submissions to their my favorite things series. Thank you Melanie and Silver Birch Press. To read my poem please go here:

spillwords.com/concert-at-sea/

Thank you Dagmara at Spillwords.com for your continued support and encouragement!

How can it be
that you can’t be with me

Is it a matter of choice
or just blind circumstance

Am I so much less than
that I can’t find a true love

Someone to love me for me
and not just a weekend freebie

How can it be
That I can’t just say no

A string I can not tether
an albatross around his neck

A person who despises
being apart the same as me

One who declares
all the love in his heart

Who isn’t still seeking
that which is home waiting right now

If the fates were different
if time didn’t move so fast

Perhaps it would be me
in your loving arms at last