In response to Journeys with Johnbo March 12, 2023
A very rainy and chilly Sunday down here in the South!
Blog
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Cellpic Sunday
Sunrise in Southport, NC 03/12/23 Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris Early Rainy Day Couch Potatoes Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris Almost Sunny Out Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris -
Black Is the Night
pexels.com Pain is a hateful master
demanding attention
before the sun begins to rise
No morning stretches
alleviate the punishment
now extracted upon this body
Unknown transgression
precipitates this judgement
no penance or quarter given
Black is the night
swallowing silent screams
dread of coming morning -
High Upon The Mountain
In response to dVerse Poets Pub MTB: Three Way Split
High, light, highlight
Posted by Laura Bloomsbury
Picture courtesy of Mountain Goat by Wikipedia High atop a mountain peak
mountain goats climb
to find a tasty bit
of moss or grass or
anything green is fine
Light filters through trees
resplendent in winter
wearing mantles formed
by glistening diamond-like
Alpine snow crystals
Summer’s sunny warmth
melts the frigid landscape
a rare highlight to spy
a lone Goat traversing
cliffs with mighty grace -
In Bloom
For Wordless Wednesday and Bloghops Various
Pink Dogwood Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris 
Bradford Pear Tree Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris 
Bradford Pear Tree Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris 
Bradford Pear Tree at Dusk Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris 
Raven Tree Photograph by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris -
The Meeting
The Sunday Whirl – Wordle #595 hosted by bwarren Faux halo glows
ominous above
the serene face
A woman sighs
numb to his
killing mind
Voice of an angel
the thought leaping
into her thoughts
A twig of alarm
slides into her consciousness
a quiver of awareness
His killing eyes mesmerized her
a dark knowing between them
Was she to be front page news? -
The Tree’s Top
In response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #301 – TREETOP 
The Big Tree in Orlando, FL approximately 400 years old Two years old
I am sure the top of the tree
is definitely attainable
Ten years old
muscles and bones strong
midway up the treetop visible
Thirteen years old
I climb until I see the treetop
I reach for the summit
Tumbling over and over
children’s laughter ringing
in my ears – I fall
A vicious bully’s
trick defines the
rest of my life -
Sailing Away
Courtesy of The Outdoor Voyage PROMPT: Describe the last difficult “goodbye” you said.
In response to Fandango’s Provocative Question #153He would be gone three months, he said. Four at the most. Not really so long, he said. Four months at sea, away from me, by choice.
A sail of a lifetime to be sure. Filled with daily challenges, adventures, bonding with family, testing his skill as the skipper of a large, privately owned sailing vessel. His days consisting of open water, ports of call, exotic landscapes and free roaming wildlife. His nights packed full of rivalry, drink, wine, good food and companionship. No time for missing anyone back home, her or me certainly.
A difficult relationship made more so by distance, prior commitments and life, now made excruciatingly impossible for me, left at home, alone. Day upon day of abject loneliness, an alone he has not and will never experience. A week goes by of talking only to the dogs, if I remember to talk at all. Each night a torment, watching the hours tick by in agonizing slow-motion. Even the minute hand dragging as though mired in molasses.
Sleepless nights turn into restless days. Isolation and desolation eating away at an already damaged heart. Body craving the touch of another. A caress, a hug, a smile or a kiss. Aging comes quicker now, mortality a very real threat for either of us. Wondering if this will be our last goodbye.
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Garden Escape
Picture courtesy of pinkpix.com In response to bwarren’s Sunday Whirl Wordle #594
garden locks creeping steal feet seems steam stars free fall joyous spaceOn bare feet I steal away
into my garden beneath
stars frozen in the dark
magnitude of space
Steam rises from grass
laden with cold evening dew
warm air locks onto cooling
leaves forming an ethereal universe
Up ahead my tree seems to open
his arms awaiting my creeping form
with joyous abandon I fall into his
branched strength – finally free -
The Midnight Hour
Courtesy of Dreamstime.com 
In response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #300 – MIDNIGHT in 94 words The church bells rang out, stopping on the eleventh gong. Crowds were gathering in the street outside, a light rain fell keeping the ever present dust confined, but only a bit.
Horses whinnied, hushed voices rose, muffled by the block walls separating me, from them. The window too high to see through, only letting in the meager light of wavering torches held in the hands of my accusers.
I dozed. Guards roughly pulled me to my feet, walked me out into the night. It was time. I’d do it again. I was not sorry. -
Storm
Picture Courtesy of Kingdom Roofing Raindrops slide down
the white gutter
attached to the blue house
The metal is cold
surviving yet another
Winter’s gusty bite
Drip drip drip
water droplets
cascade to the ground
A clap of thunder mars
the quiet solitude of the night
vibrating sleeping puddles awake
Little artificial ponds overflow
sending tiny waterfalls
to bombard rock and dirt boulders
Ants block entrances
into their hill homes
with saliva packed sand
Beetles hide beneath
bright green leaves
sagging beneath the rains weight
Insects scurry up
and out of harms way
avoiding being maimed or drowned
Only man foregoes
the warnings of nature
ignoring the oncoming flood
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 