Gypsie's Writing, Musings, Quotes & Gripes

A response to Bartholomew Barker’s Monday Poetry Prompt – GRATITUDE

It’s not only this time of the year that I’m wishing you near Wanting things to be as they used to be between you and me. Mother, Father, sisters all

It’s not only this day filled with turkey delight, cornbread stuffing sweet pies baked in the night when I find how thankful I am you were in my life

Memories slip in tinged with the vintage of time masking the trials of teenagers coming of age in a world filled with war, heartache and rage A world your children never knew

How hard it had been as each of your kin passed into the night relinquished the fight to diseases unknown while raising a house full of girls with their silver combs

Unaware thanks to you that our world was a zoo Filled with dangers and frights we as kids had no clue as we were ever protected by you

Cuba’s missiles we found could’ve leveled our ground Yet we continued to play in our yard in the sun no cares but our own thanks to you

A blissful time a child without worry a child without crime I am thankful for each day since you’ve both gone away to rest in the peaceful arms of time you still live in my heart

Happy Thanksgiving it is and with great thanks that I give to two parents now gone that allowed a kid to be a kid – Thank you with love ‘til we meet again

Confucius say only the confused aren’t!

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2021/11/20/weekend-writing-prompt-236-blue/

By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

Response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #236 BLUE 38 Word Challenge

Colors all around

swirl without a sound

Upon the deep blue sea

azure water calls to me

Enter here and wish no more

magic found upon my shores

Leave your woeful cares behind

Sirens call made you mine

by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

The couch is your home

and there you both sit

or lay close together

here in our small home

Once dinner is done

a big stretch

and some yawns – it’s back

to your cushiony throne

A noise from outside

gets you up with a start

off to the door you run

hoping for romp and for fun

It’s that nice delivery man

with a nod and a smile

he’s delivering the box full of food

toys and new chewy socks

So true what I’m saying today

these two beasts once playing

are now curled up here at my feet the two loves

of my life make my life pure delight

Two days late!

Silver moonlight penetrated thick branches throwing into relief the silhouette of sleeping angels.

Photograph by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Friday Fictioneers 11 – 19 – 2021 photo prompt micro-story 100 words or less 

The axe came first, it was our only warning. Split logs, whole logs, branches too rose, rolled and shot through the air, impaling anything or anyone in their way. 

Quiet for a moment, we huddled terror stricken in the cabin. A jarring sound and the chainsaw lifted, it’s blade sharp and spinning madly. It hovered over the roof of the little cabin before it too, devoured the old timber’s of the roof full force. 

There was a shudder, a thud. Then another thud. Then such a cacophony of thuds, we covered our ears against it. 

The trees had had enough!

by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris 

(Response to Sadie’s What do you see # 108 – November 15, 2021 Picture prompt.)

It’s a key. It’s just a key. It’s not an engagement ring, not a wedding ring. A commitment yes, but an open one right? Wiggle room implied, accepted, assumed. 

Don’t touch it! Don’t touch that key! Next comes exclusivity, then domination, then the rings, those rings. No wiggle room afforded, none implied, none assumed, none expected. 

It will work, it could work. Just a key, without a ring. Open the door, just open the door. Inside is security, affability, friendship, love. Sexuality, with one, just one. Exclusive together. 

It won’t work. It might work, for a time. For a little while. For the blink of an eye. But then, oh then. Another comes along, singing his song. Pulls him away, he’ll never stay. Accept it. 

Reach for it, almost touch it. Can’t. Try again, hand freezes then falls. Knowledge is heaven, but this time it’s hell. Never again, no never again. Turn from the door, turning away from the door. 

Leave behind what might have been, not going to face what might of been. He sits waiting – within. 

Continue reading “Just a Key”

by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

In Response to Friday Fictioneers prompt. Write a 100 word story in the historical fiction genre, using the prompt provided.

It was but a small bump, barely a shiver down in third class where so many of us traveled together, to the New Land.

In fact, I rather liked the feel of the big ship as she took the waves and faced the wind. As I’ve done in the past, I wondered at the incongruities of cultural expectations and strictures.

Mama near passed right out when I told her I wanted to be a captain like Captain Smith. She said it weren’t a proper position for a lady.

Cold water slid over my slippers. Did Captain Smith know about this?

There’s meter and there’s meters

One measures a poem’s length

The other the length of a road

Epistemology is much like genealogy

Discovering the secret starting places

Of the words we use to this day

It certainly never occurred to me

To use the algebraic written form

Instead of the good old A, B, C’s

Then we get to the iambic state

Which seems to me a way to relate

Without using words but beats is all!

Last now we see a lambic parameter

A way to install a measured meter

with a beat musicians love to use

As for me I find I have to say

I’m just an eccentric heretic

An apostate non-conformist

An unintentional recreant

Of the well authored word

In layman’s terms – I just write!

by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

Passed a patch of pussywillows today

I thought of you and smiled

How you’d make Dad stop each time

To gather a bushel from the swamp

He never fussed he didn’t complain

That in itself a sweet blessing to us

We three girls would sit and watch

As our Dad traversed those Florida swamps

Never a thought nor did he mind

Those alligators standing by

Why they let my Daddy be

Is still a mystery to me

Upon the shelf she kept her prize

Fluffy puffs of nature’s whim

Until the day they dropped their seed

Then back to the swamp we went

Years and years have passed

Since last I saw her smile

Dads gone to join her now

A sprig of fluff in his tight hand

I passed a patch of pussywillows today

Your voice a distant memory

Upon my shelf now sits a bunch

Of willows from your favorite swamp