Gypsie's Writing, Musings, Quotes & Gripes

Agent’s due to come at dusk

A handsome gent

that smells of musk

The kind of gent

that makes a mama proud

A man to make a young girl

do twirls in the center

of her small living room

Over the moon

About a gent in blue

Brother stands and shakes his head

convinced his sister never will wed

Whether or not the gent is true

Whether he wears red, white or blue

This ones not the one for you

Father enters his scowling face

not a hint of kindness

Not a trace

As he explains to one and to all

It’s not a gent that’s going to call

Family all turns as one to stare

at the man in his overalls

He stands to a height of six foot four

sauntering slowly

towards the door

My sweet little girl I’m sorry to say

it’s not a-gent calling for you today

It’s me that’s been caught

well and good

An agent he is for his livelihood

An agent in blue to take me away

My moonshine still did he find

Up the creek and far away

a-gents not yours

I’m afraid he’s mine

Prompt: 🌺 FLOWERS

Flower petals drop heralding winter’s come.

https://thesoulsearchersite.wordpress.com/2021/11/06/6wsp-98/

(Response to Sammi Cox’s prompt EMPIRE – 70 Words)

Babylonia, Media

Persia and Greece

Four empires

the final fourth book

Israel as it stands now

but a crossroad stop

for the armies of

Asia Minor and Mesopotamia

The eastern boundaries

those blazing Arabian deserts

denied their escape

sealed by nature’s fickle fate

Four empires desecrated

passing marauders

Egypt bound for fame and gold

Arts, sciences, literature gone

The burning pursuit

of golden riches eternal

Embedded Inhumanness

since time immemorial

(A response to NaNoWriMo prompts: train, reflect, fog, night, incense.)

Rumbling and rattling soothing sounds to a train engineer Annoying clatter to the car waiting there

A little boy bounces his safety seat swaying counting how many cars the big red engine pulls through the night

A woman sits quietly at the stop without signals Her red rimmed eyes and tear streaked face reflect her youthful agony

Obscured by the incense of fog a possum struts across the tracks in blissful ignorance until the moment bright lights mark his imminent demise

(In response to Bartholomew Barker’s November Visual Poetry Prompt)
By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

We sat eye to eye
Me, inside my warm, cozy cabin
Sweet scent of hot apple cider
dancing happily around me

Him, resplendent in his home
Snow framing his petite form
Boughs of evergreen
bouncing softly in the breeze

A bite of my cinnamon stick
He gnawed on his and stopped
Taunting me
Teasing me 

A chattered challenge
I took up the melee
popping the entire sweet
onto my exuberant tongue

Not to be outdone
he devoured his delight
Those sharp teeth sawing
with meticulous precision

Shiny brown eyes glare at me
through frost glazed windows
Two cinnamon sticks had I
poor mr squirrel he had none

https://livingpoetry.net/2021/11/01/november-visual-poetry-prompt-5/comment-page-1/#comment-5834

Compassion 

Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

Her sanctuary invaded, she greets the new neighbor yet again, as he enters without a welcome. His man body betrays the child still living within it but, his voice and speech reminds her he is but a young, undisciplined boy who reeks of nescience concerning societal and cultural expectations. Compassion.

The couch is your home and there you both sit or together you lay 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 it is true what I’m saying these two beasts that were playing are now curled up here at my feet the two loves of my life making my life pure delight