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By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Grass oh grass why do you grow
where you are unwelcome not wanted
in my flowers and sweet garden soil?

Not within the great expanse of lawn where in Spring you were sown,
no puerile carpet except in these beds.

Beds prepared for flowers and bushes
and such, are not made for rippled clumps of long verdant green blades.

The flowers are lovely I do so agree,
but their spot is theirs and the yard’s
for your waving verdurous hue.

So I must remove from my garden’s
rich loam, the small protruding
slivers of grass where it’s strayed.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

What wicked webs of deceit
we weave for love and for lust
It is not out of goodness and light
that force us to subtly deceive

The power of nature we try to control
with our laws of commitment
Lay our hands on the sacrament
pledging to that we can never sustain

We of humankind think we fool
when the fools in truth are we
To place our future in the stars
wish upon them so far away

How ignorantly wise we think we are
to slither beneath our wedding vows
While in our minds we compromise
it’s not our fault – somehow

At our twilight or maybe before
there is no way to truly foretell
The web we think we wove so well
will catch us one and all in the end

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Bring me bad today
my mood is dark
Searching for the elusive
the meanest of the sharks

Think again to defeat me
teeth and sharp claws have I
Show me your worst
I’ll scratch out your eyes

Sit me down in a restaurant
full of love and laughter alone
I won’t bend and I won’t give
all I need is my old cell phone

Loneliness leave me now
in my space with Jose Cuervo©
Mexican music loud all around
not thinking about my futuro

So bring me some bad today
I can handle anything that’s thrown
One misstep one wrong word
you’ll see how bad I’ve really grown

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Sadje’s - What do you see # 158- October 31, 2022

He left the door open! Do I stay or do I run? He might be waiting right outside, a test to see if I’ll stay. The grass is so green, the sky brilliant blue and there’s freedom right through those doors.

But, do I want freedom? He takes care of me, feeds me, keeps me warm. Sure, there are some uncomfortable times, but isn’t there always no matter where you are or who you’re with?

Maybe I could just poke my head out, see what’s out there and breathe the cool Autumn air. I’ll bet it smells like fall flowers, pumpkins and bonfires burning. It’s Halloween night, at least I think it’s Halloween night.

If I run, he’ll be upset, mad. It will hurt his feelings and make him sad. I don’t want to make him sad, or mad. He promised me a special treat on Halloween.

What if leaving the doors open is my treat and I don’t take it? He’ll really be angry with me then, or will he be angry if I do take it, leave, run. I can hear footsteps, it’s him. Or maybe not, might be someone else. If they find me, he will be livid.

Do I stay or do I run?

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Mark’s Haiku Prompt
in Naturalist Weekly – Micro-Season:
“Light Rain Showers” (2022)

Tiny raindrops fall
lightly sprinkle a flower’s
upturned sunny face

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Journey’s With Johnbo prompt for Cellpic Sunday 10/30/22

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Stine Writings Simply 6 Minutes Challenge 10/25/22

I tell you true
and this is no lie
My neighbor’s a witch
she really does fly

Sadly for her and for us too
my neighbor needs glasses
Her eyesight’s a fright she lands
each time on her bountiful assets

She practiced and practiced
sticking landings on her broom
Only this time she landed
with a loud thudding boom

Up on my ceiling I now have a hole
where my neighbor she dangles
Stockings, shoes and broken broom
waiting a while before she disentangles

She’s safer where she hangs up there aloft
no more can she thump, bang or crash
All our friends both near and far
are coming soon for a great Halloween bash!

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

They come in the night
whispering sweet promises
promising dark lies

Voices gone and dead to this world
returned just to see and to spy
spying to taunt and to haunt and tease

Telling me tales and their secrets
of old that no one else knows
knowing they’ve told me before

In dreams filled with longing
fog filled memories of hot lust
lustful longings still unfulfilled

Demons and angels and ghosts
one and all at my door come to call
calling on me it’s All Hallow’s Eve

A visit by Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Mount Rushmore stands in testament to the pioneering spirit of America and her bid and eventual win for freedom. It is an astounding achievement in human engineering and perseverance to be sure.

Yet, not far down the road stands a lone warrior, his sad gaze overlooking the Black Hills of South Dakota. Now changed for all eternity. No longer the pristine wilderness protecting and nurturing the Buffalo, the Bear, the Eagle and the Elk. A stone nose flared in revulsion, smoke billowing below from the many wildfires scarring the land. Car exhaust killing the beautiful pines and cottonwood’s. Ribbons of black tar mar the sides of every mountain, testament to the white man’s continued advance.

In those eyes of knowledge and foretelling, he looks across the Black Hill’s into a future lacking the Indigenous People’s who lived, thrived, loved and died on this fertile land. He sees the demise of Earth’s bounty, squandered, used and abused. No heed to replenishing what is taken. No care for the poverty and squalor left behind by greed, self-importance and self-delusion.

I gaze up into the face of this man who was never photographed. Who stood beside and with his people. A man who lost his life while negotiating for the safety of his tribe, to a coward who attacked from behind.

That his tenacity and spirit lives on is inspiring, moving and frustrating. For all his heroic works, his battles won and battles lost; his people still suffer in poverty and neglect.

The current estimate for this largest of all mountain carvings to be completed is hundreds of years in the future. If someone doesn’t renege on the contract, misplace Indian funds or simply take back what was never theirs to give away at all; the Crazy Horse monument will persevere, perhaps to a time when the Buffalo multiply and the Wolf runs free again.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Fandango’s One word Challenge – Patronize

A pat on the head
an absent smile
A distracted nod
mile after mile

A grunt for an answer
a question left hanging
Wait by the phone
emotional head banging

A glance of acknowledgment
over before it’s begun
Attention is waning
wonder if it’s all done

A miscommunication
or lack there of
Leaves a lonely heart aching
patronized with crumbs