Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words

Blog

  • Secret Admirer

    Image credit – Leighann Blackwood @ Unsplash

    A response to Keith’s Rambling’s response The Letter for Sadje’s What Do You See? photo prompt #177, March 13, 2023

    Dear Keith,

    You do not know me and I realize it’s odd to write a “love-letter” at our age but – oh, this is not a love letter at all! I mean, what I’d like to say is I like you, very much. If you do not like me, that’s ok. Well, of course you do not like me, you’ve never met me so there is that. Should you like to get the chance to like me, not that you have to of course. Like me that is. What I mean to say is, maybe we could meet at McDonald’s sometime and I could give you a shake?

    That didn’t quite come out right. What I mean to say is, I’d like to buy you a milkshake if you’d like? I realize you may be lactose intolerant, so many our age are. Not that I’m intimating that you are aged of course or that I am, although if you hope to meet a younger woman at McDonald’s of course that is your choice, it’s just that it wouldn’t be me. So if I see you at McDonald’s with a younger woman I will understand but, would still love to buy you a milkshake, or cola or even a diet soda in case you are diabetic.

    I do hope you will reconsider the younger woman and meet me for dinner at your local McDonald’s next Friday evening? I apologize for the delay, but I do have to obtain a passport and then book a flight across the big pond to get to you, so I hope with the time changes and jet lag, that I can get there before they close. By the way, do you prefer a chocolate, vanilla or strawberry milkshake?

    P.S. As I’m quite a distance from you, I have asked Sadje to slip my little not-a-love-letter note beneath your door. Cheers!!

  • Cellpic Sunday

    In response to Journeys with Johnbo March 12, 2023

    A very rainy and chilly Sunday down here in the South!

    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 #153

    He 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.

  • 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 space

    On 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.