Hibiscus Delight

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Monday Poetry prompt GARDEN
by Bartholomew Barker of Living Poetry

My sweet hibiscus
you bloom so beautiful
so bright

Brilliant fiery reds
purest white of whites
purple delights

With leaves of darkest green
to leaves a translucent sheen
reflecting light

By dusks fading light
you close your beauty away
for the night

Only to return with
dawn’s morning rays
just a few days

Until your beauty subsides
you curl your wonder away
fall and decay

Making way for another
to bloom and give wonder
to this gardener’s delight

Mother Earth

Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Reposting for Earthweal open link weekend #119

I am Mother Earth
birthplace of all living
and non-living things upon me

Be it animal, plant, water, dirt or sky
it is I who hold the key
to their creation or extinction

Those that are gentle upon myths skin
may live in peace and prosperity
such as the lovely butterflies

Those that rend my skin
pollute my rivers and seas
will not see my gentler side

But the rising tides of my anger
and the swell of hot magma
from my very being and my core

It is I who rules this land of mine
all these millennium and I who will stay here long after you are gone


By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Sarah @ Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge #414

While tending my garden green
pulling weeds and tending my beans,
a blue-bird sat upon my shoulder
Word-Weaver, she said to me,
Can you please weave some words
to save all of our trees?

As I sat upon my garden bench
contemplating the little birds wish,
a big old toad jumped up beside me
Word-weaver, his deep voice croaked
Can you please weave some words
to save our swamps and streams?

Walking along the river bank my mind so full I could barely think
A loud buzzing filled the air,
an army of striped bees said to me,
Word-Weaver can you weave some words to save our flowers, please?

My mind whirling, I strolled down
to the seas edge and was amazed
to see the biggest whale I’d ever seen out in the deep blue waiting for me
Word-Weaver, he blew to me, please weave some words to save our seas?

The Earth beneath my feet shuddered, a vine full of luscious purple and white blooms curled around my waist then the blossoms opened and Mother Earth spoke, “Word-Weaver, would you weave some words to save me please?”

I Am Not A Man

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Image credit: Amine M’Siouri @ Pexels

In response to Sadje’s Picture Post above for May 16, 2022 #WDYS – #Whatdoyousee #134


I am not a man
do not try to mold
me into your image

You are not a woman
do not deem to understand
my mind, my body, my soul

I am a woman
I own this body
I have been gifted with

Do not dictate to me what
to do with the seed of your loins released in your pleasure

Do persecute, arrest and prosecute those who pleasured themselves
without care or responsibility

Across The Sea

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Eugi’s Causerie

In response to Eugi’s – Weekly Prompt May 10, 2022 Guiding Light

Across the wide and open sea
my deepest love waits for me
A lantern could not guide this night
Only loves pure and brilliant light

Leads me to where he will be
At home again on sacred soil
Beside the Moors and Cypress trees
Beneath the moon on bended knee

Within his palm will be a ring
a circle of gold with gilded stones
He’ll ask of me to be his bride
We’ll mark our vows on aging tomes

What’s this the Captain does advise
The seas they’ve angered the tides
do rise to shake and thrash
the ship to shreds

I fear my love I shall never see
this ship will soon be lost at sea
As it slides into a watery grave
That light of love begins to fade

Farewell my love for it is true
Another I have never loved like you but now it’s time for me to go – Goodbye my Love

Drumbeat of Insanity

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Bass Drum

The Sunday Whirl Wordle #553
Hosted by bwarren
Prompt words are:
star shelf growl slip open flower crow against prowl beneath beat shot

The drumbeat of insanity
opens his mind to hate
to prejudice against the innocent
Evil leads him to prowl for those
he believes beneath his star-power

Not a growl did he offer his prey
slipping between pots filled
with the bright flowers of spring
Black crow flies in warning
no one sees, no one hears

Then a shot times three
brought death thrice over
Inside a mother pushes her
child beneath a shelf
A man standing guard – falls

The mechanism made by man
allows a boy to kill six more
Still we fight for our rights
our right to buy, carry and kill
a weapon forged in the bowels of hell

Weekend Sky #63

Posted in response to Hammad Rais Blog

Sunset over homes on Emerald Isle, NC 2015
Sunset driving home Wilmington, NC 2021
Sunset on Oak Island, NC 2022

All photographs taken by and property of Gypsie-Ami OffenbacherFerris

The Little Door

By Gypsie -Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Photograph by KL Caley

In response to KL Caley’s Write Photo Challenge.

I found them accidentally, late one afternoon. I wasn’t very old, just starting my teenage journey. I hated it, being a teenager. If I were honest, it wasn’t being a teenager exactly, although the pimples, flat chest and stringy hair I now sported, did not endear me to these years.

No, it was the other teenagers. Hateful creatures all, or at least most. I had gone from being a happy-go-lucky, out-going, nature-loving tomboy, to an outcast. I don’t know what happened the summer before, but whatever it was didn’t happen to me.

The girls I had played kickball with and climbed trees with; now had breasts and wore makeup and painted their nails. The boys had grown whiskers and gotten taller, and cuter.

Anyway, I became the whipping girl for the entire school. Of course, this is fifty years ago, way before anti-bullying rallies were being held.

There was one girl though. She looked to be my age but she was tiny. I don’t mean little, she was the smallest almost adult I had ever seen. She started talking to me and we became best friends very quickly. Only, she never invited me to her place and never accepted my offer to have her come to mine.

She got on the bus at the stop right after mine. I figured her mom dropped her off, because I didn’t see any farms or houses anywhere near her stop. That’s why I decided to follow her, curiosity mixed with concern. Mostly curiosity.

Except, on the bus home that day; the kids were especially vicious. Calling me names, saying I was crazy because I talked to myself all the time. I told them I was not crazy, I was talking to my best friend. One of the girls yelled out that I had an invisible friend and everybody started laughing. I turned to talk to my new best friend, but she was gone. She must’ve gotten off the bus early to get away from the awful teenagers. I felt very sad that I didn’t see her go.

On impulse, I decided to get off at the stop after mine. My friends bus stop, hoping she would be there. After the bus left, I saw her walking through a field, towards a mound I had never noticed before. As I got closer, I saw there was a door, a little door!

My friend fit through it perfectly. I waited a few minutes and then knocked lightly on the door. My friend answered wearing the prettiest dress I had ever seen. As she moved, the colors ran together and seemed to glisten.

I asked if this was where she lived and she said yes, this was where all the little people lived. I peeked inside and what I could see was wondrous. Multicolored flowers everywhere, a bright blue sky dotted with silver- lined clouds. Hills that went on forever, covered in bright green grass slowly moving back and forth in a sweet, warm breeze.

She started to close the door, but I asked her to please let me see one more time. I asked if I could come in. She shook her head no and said you had to be one of the little people to come in. I said I wished I was a little person. She looked up at me and asked if I really and truly wanted to be. I said that yes, I did, more than anything.

Anyway, this is my letter to you, Mom and Dad, to let you know I’ve gone to live with the little people in the mound, up the hill and in the field. Don’t worry, I’ll be happy here.

His Hats

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

2019-2020 SoCS Badge by Shelley! https://www.quaintrevival.com Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “hat.” Use it literally or metaphorically. Have fun!

He loved hats. Didn’t matter what kind. Male, female, baseball, frilly, top hats, floppy hats, black hats, purple hats. If we went into any establishment that had hats for sale or even on display, he just had to try them on. All of them!

Imagine being in a hurry at the gas station, running late for some event or another and he spies a rack of cowboy hats mixed with baseball hats at the register, along with a ladies sun hat or two. It didn’t matter if they fit or not, he had to try them on. Every single one!

I tried to be diligent to due financial restrictions and of course, the old “you don’t get everything you ask for or want adage,” but I’ll admit at Christmas and on his birthday, he was loaded up with hats.

Even before Captain Jack Sparrow hit the movie screen, his favorite was his authentic pirate hat, a true tricorn purchased somewhere for some exorbitant amount I can not even remember. If he wasn’t wearing it, he was carrying it with him wherever he went.

Then came kindergarten and hats were not allowed, period. No hats of any kind, not ever, not even on casual day. Things did not go well for a very long time, until I let him carry or wear it in the car on the way to school. Then he had to take it off and put it in the front seat with me, so I wouldn’t be lonely and miss him while he was

When he emerged from class, the first thing he went for was his pirate hat, before he even said hello to me. I wish I had that pirate hat now. I miss him.