The Colony

By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Photo by Pixabay on
Friday Fictioneers! For EM Writing prompts

The text prompt is:
“The skies were filled with colors, and the trees collaborated in nature…”

“Come on Georgie, don’t lag!”

Georgie, the smallest one. Stood in awe, peering over the trees at the horizon. The skies were filled with colors, and the trees collaborated in nature with Mother Earth.

“How many of these sun gliding things have you seen,” Georgie asked, his little eyes wide reflecting the orange rays of the sun in their dark depths. Georgie was mesmerized.

Georgie’s friend stopped for a very brief second, in thought.

“Two or three Georgie, after that it’s just, you know, blasé,” said his friend.

“Blasé?” Asked Georgie?

“Yeah, mundane, common, um, boring.”

Georgie was stunned. How could anything with those colors be boring? The magnitude of it was overwhelming. He stood a bit longer to soak in the beauty.

“Georgie come on!” They called from the confines of the tight line they held in formation.

Returning to the line of workers, he walked briskly along but he could not stop watching the brilliant orange ball as it lifted into a sea of blue silk sky. Georgie stopped again in wonder. The entire line behind him stopped, everyone bumping into the one in front of them like dominoes.

“Georgie!” One of the soldier ants called from the sidelines, “What’s going on with you?”

Georgie sighed and, pointing with the first of his six legs, exclaimed again how very beautiful everything was to him; before marching on.

Another soldier ant sauntered over to the one urging Georgie on.

“So, what’s the story with that one Sam?” He asked, jerking his head to identify Georgie as he marched away, out of step with the rest of the Hill.

“Worker Ant you know? Short lived as they are, they always seem to be dreamers, artists, musicians and such. It’s like they take so much life in during their short life cycle, it swallows them up in it’s intensity.” Sam said quietly.

The second soldier ant shook his head in dismay, not understanding a single thing his buddy had just said.


By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to prompt word by Eugi’s Causerie March 22, 2022 Prompt Word is: SOARING

Suddenly, the wind is ripping,
the cut of it refreshingly chilly.
The air swirls around me wildly.

Strong gusts of wind work
to lift me high above the earth,
soaring freely on the breeze.

Turning my head commands
my body to veer left, turn my head
again and I veer right.

Higher and higher I rise
into the blackness of the night sky
on diaphanous wings I can not see.

Swooping beneath arched bridges
like a newly emerged dragonfly.
Over tall buildings I laugh with joy.

My spirit roams free above the city
soaring weightless and bodiless
until the mornings light wakes me.

Mother of All Rivers

By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Narmada River, India

She travels across continents
bringing food and fresh water
to those on her banks
to her populace

Snaking through the land
feeding monkey, ape and man
Deity for thousands and thousands of years

Older than old
and nearly the longest on Earth
Narmada River gave us all birth
so protect her we must

Ready For A Change In?

(Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Carrot Ranch Literary Community

March 21, 2022 prompt provided by Charli Mills of Carrot Ranch Literary Community. In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story to reflect the theme, “Ready for a change.”

Stones crunch beneath my feet. This past Fall’s leaves becoming dust months ago. Buds are opening on the Bradford Pear tree’s, hopefully not too early this year; would love to see the tree’s adorned in their lovely white pantaloons instead of the little brown nubula’s of the past several years.

Yes, I meant nubula. It’s my word. More than a nebula, but less than a bud. A nubula.

You see, I’m ready for a change in vocabularies. Tired of the predominantly used text talk of our time; I want words that exercise betterment, so I shall invent my own.

Gypsie’s New World Werded Dictionary


By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Descend – Image by KL Caley

In response to photo prompt provided by KL Caley for WritePhoto

It comes tonight
As It does every night
The moment I close my eyes
It reaches from the depths to grab me

This night is the same
I vowed my eyes stay open
But my weary body has betrayed me
Its spiny fingers clutch my very soul

Screams with no sound resound
My mouth still all movement frozen
Its evil intent to do harm to me clear
Dragging me down the steps down

Down the circular curvature of brick
and mortar to Its home beneath here
Hands reach out scratching grabbing
Silent painful screams pierce my ears

A building below – A vault!
Hands shoving me forward wanting begging pleading to seal me in with It
Struggling more I pray to the Light

Sharply I awake a real scream curling from my throat The one sleeping next to me shakes me awake -You stopped breathing- he whispers softly

Paper Paper

By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Picture Courtesy of

In response to dVerse Poets Quadrille #148 Papered Poems
44 word count only challenge

Paper paper I declare
Paper paper everywhere
Lots of paper lined in ink
Lettered paper helps me think

Paper with a glistening sheen
I don’t even know what that means
Though I love all paper to write upon
Christmas paper is the most fun

Another Drink

By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

To say that I am not
an accomplished drinker
Would be the truth

For in truth when I do imbibe
nothing ever goes just right
The best plans fail to materialize

Or worse become a many legged
creature completely out of control
Believe me I should know

At least I think I know
or so I’ve been told by
my lovely friends one or two

Or three but that matters not
being of Scots/Irish descent
I should be able to hold my lot

But no it’s just not so
not one lick or tiny bit
Have a drink they coerce

When the liquor hits my tongue
the fun they say – has just begun
I like to dance and twirl around

Upon the table tops and more
another drink my bestie says
the night is still so young

Unfortunate though it seems to me
young I am no more – I just poured
my lovely port into my cup of tea!

Spirit Spoke

By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Picture By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Response to prompt words provided by The Sunday Whirl Wordle #545 lilt rubble scarce homes unrelenting explosion power free wicked sing spirit rise

Wind whips through homes
abandoned to the rubble
Fire stretches to engulf and swallow
old timber

Explosions rock the earth
freeing huge boulders
Power lines are flattened
the streets sing in unheard agony

Unrelenting wickedness devours
the land scarce of life
Unfettered until the lilt and call
of the human spirit rises in protest


By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to word prompt vigorous posted by NOX at The Daily Spur.

Picture courtesy of PINTEREST.COM

“Vigoro…us, Vigoro…us, Vigoro…us,” the young tenor sang out enthusiastically.

The exasperated choir director called the young man’s attention to his mistake again.

“Once more, it’s not vigorous. It’s Figaro, sung with intent!” the director sung the passage clearly and finally the young man understood his choir director.

The next morning, the choir director entered the choir room coming to a dead stop. In the middle of the room stood a large camping tent and the very beautiful but still inarticulate voice of his student could be heard rehearsing, from inside the tent.

“What are you doing?” The choir director demanded hotly.

“What you told me to,” he smiled. “I am singing Vigorous In-Tent!”

Absolutely Positively Not

By (Gypsie) Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Would I sit on a box
Its top open not shut
Like a little red fox
Huddled down in his hut?

Would I ride on a train
With no doors or windows
Outside in the rain
Across great rolling meadows?

Would I walk through a swamp
All boggy and wet
Where gators would chomp
Like a salty baguette?

Would I fly on a plane
Its backdoor gaping wide
As we flew over Spain
A really rough ride

Absolutely Positively Not
Would I sit on a box or
Ride a train in the rain
Walk through a swamp
Or ride a rough plane

Give me two wheels
with pedals beneath
A sturdy hand-bar
and brakes at my feet
Then life would be sweet