Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words

Oh how I wish it could be me

Unfurling those brilliant white sails

With you

Awaiting that first fresh gust of air

Smiling as our sails catch the wind

Forward toward the rising sun

We ride the watery swells

Laughing together

Thrusting up and back down again

Bodies pressed together we ride

Shadows dancing across the water

Skipping over swaths of foamy peaks

Sea sprays our faces

Then slipping into the beckoning darkness

Only to rise and crest on your pointed bow

Oh to sail sitting beside you

To watch the joy of a full sail

Light up your eyes

As I’ve only ever seen in the dark

Behind closed and bolted doors

To taste the sea air on my tongue

Feel your strong arms around me

Safe haven

Catching the strong tailwinds

That carry us to port and home

Too soon you stride away

Into the early morning light

Sun on your back

Into another’s glistening world

Your life with her life tied forever

Response to Bartholomew Barker’s Monday Poetry Prompt: SHAMELESS.

Shameless blatant misuse and abuse of mother

nature’s gifts

Consumerism fuels capitalism fuels consumerism

Fuels natural extinction

Shameless neglect and careless disregard of and

for Earths children

in pursuit of wealth and worldly trappings

Reprehensible deportment

Shameless breeding of creatures

small and smaller

great and tall

Developing new colors, new species

exotic companions

Shameless humanity given life to prosper

taken and plundered

Emptied her seas of aquatic life

Opulence squandered

Shameless me sitting on the shore

contemplating wastage

hedonistic desecration

Impotent rage

Shameless me

By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

(87 Word Count Weekend Writing Prompt #230 Brush)

The telemarketers are on a roll today, my new smart telephone is buzzing itself off my table.

The thought crosses my mind to set the thing in my lap; but no, I’m a grandma after all.

A young lady tries to sell me a fancy, boars bristle, hairbrush. My dresser mirror shows, not much hair left.

Next buzz brings an electric toothbrush salesman to my ear. With toothless gums I smack,

“So ya want ta pay me ta test out yo toofbrush?” He hangs up straight away.

By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

Response to word prompt #229

Caboodle in 78 words

A caboodle is not like a noodle

It can never be less

But I sorely digress

A caboodle can mean lots of oodles

Not a wee little mess

It’s a seriously gigantic abyss

The best is a snoodled caboodle

And a snoodled caboodle is not a mess

It’s not under the legs of a desk

If you find a snoodled caboodle

Take care not to bite or even to eat

It’s not really there and isn’t a treat

By Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

My body is an adversary

one I can not

fight

Tortured by day

tormented at night

The demon beckons

with pills to break

free

Take these he lies

and follow me

Into the land of darkness

where the damned stay interred

Come to me now

the dark spirit urged

A bright blinding light

reached from outside my

tomb

Listen not to the dark one

his way leads to doom

Suffer you will

and suffer you must

trapped

Trusting, feeling, believing

one day you’ll be

Free

Response to prompt from Gotham Writer’s Interactive workshop – Use color to reflect emotions and/or actions in a poem or story

Feelings in Color

by Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

When he entered the house

our house surrounded by lush green bushes

heavy with welcoming pink and comforting yellow 

flowering hibiscus

Their scent wafted in through the white clapboard door

he left standing open

I could smell the richness of each flower

Bright pink sharply citrusy

The yellow reminding me of warm, sunny days spent on the beach

He stood there so tall so manly 

surrounded within an aura of pastel orange

His face, drawn, pinched. 

He knew, that I knew and he was afraid

The orange deepened when he asked if he could come in

I answered in the most neutral voice I could muster

much like the neutral he had insisted upon 

when we chose our new carpet together

Neutral, yes, that was how I would stay. 

“It’s your house, no need to ask to come in,” 

I muttered in neutral beige

I like beige, it’s comfortable, safe

I would stay here standing on my beige carpet 

and remain neutrally beige he responded that this was our house 

I felt my neutral slip, melting into the darker color 

of a green so dark it was almost black 

A red that I dared not release, least it consume me 

He moved towards me, his hand imploring 

His sea blue eyes lined with tiny rivers of broken vessels

Had he been crying? For whom had he been crying?

For me or for her? 

Beige dissipated fire red filled my eyes

filled my soul while my once warm

beating heart turned ice cold blue 

Time to Write

Ami (Gypsie) Offenbacher-Ferris

My daily schedule wound so tight.

Dinner’s served, the dishes are done,

Not one little thing’s been left undone.

Beginning to write, I cannot wait.

Fingers lift in reverent repose,

My eyes drift down and see ten tiny

toes.

“I cannot sleep, a monster’s under my

bed! Mommy I need you, to chop off

their heads.”

I lift the trembling bundle with hands

all set to type.

Turn off the computer

Maybe tomorrow I’ll get to write!

Tomorrow has come and gone by the

wayside

Another day filled with snacks and

lunches and carpools

Wondering where can I write? Where

can I hide?

Then it’s time to fill that washer with Tide

The library stacked with

confectionery tomes,

Calling me bribing me hooking me

tempting me

Just one I tell myself now adult,

Only one I swear I won’t get hooked

Then the hungry kids and even the

dog wonder why I haven’t cooked!

I bid farewell to my one true love

That of a book and those vexing

written words

My downfall it is to not have

discovered ’til now

I’ll be unable to write once more

Until probably next Fall!

– Response to Monday Word Prompt Arctic, Destroy, Experiment

The first word of the day is arctic,

to think, to ponder, to write

is cathartic.

Then the second word jumps

up from the page,

it’s letters destroy the first

in a haze.

The last word describes this poem

to a tee,

definitely an experiment

from you on to me.

Oh wait! I see I must now pause

he’s inserted a picture

of old Santa clause.

Santa please know it’s

with warm hands and toes

I lay here and wait

completely reposed.

He’ll come here tonight

from his great Arctic home

man’s experiment failed

he’s bringing my tomes!

It sits at the end

of a street

made of dirt

Once somebody’s dream

a sweet home

and warm hearth

The windows all paneled

in bright colors galore

desiccated pieces upon the floor

Ghosts gather round

in ethereal shrouds

up and down the shabby old stairs

Patient as they wait so close

ramshackle hosts bound

to a ramshackle home

No where to go unable to roam

invisible chains hold their invisible forms

unheard cries from those so old and forlorn

In the far distance the dogs

barking their ancient songs

of families now lost and forever gone