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By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

the world was gone
her world was gone
ripped away by a madman
not even a man but a boy
a boy with a gun out
for some demented fun

falling to her knees she begged
her God please it can not be
black tears coursed down
her high cheekbones smudging
her face to mock her grief
the baby of her body ripped to shreds

they led her down a long hallway
cold and blindingly sterile
the quiet pounding
achingly into her skull
she stumbled as she crossed
the threshold into a massive freezer

silver drawers lined the walls
eighteen long and three feet tall
eighteen and three eighteen and three
the boy was eighteen years old
her little girl was three feet tall
the man pulled out a drawer

her babies drawer her babies drawer
be careful she screamed
loudly within her mind
white sheet drawn back
reveals porcelain skin eyes closed
lips turned down in pain

she looks like nothings wrong
she just needs to wake up
wake up baby wake up
momma’s here now
she began to sing a lullaby
reached to lift her child

the men reached to stop her
too late she saw her babies
body torn apart by bullets
firing too fast to hide no where
to hide was her last thought
as she slid to the floor

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

I don’t know how long I’ve been afloat. Days, a week, more. I stopped counting at seven. Well, I couldn’t remember what came after seven and it didn’t seem to matter anyway. Seven dwarfs, seven seas, seven wonders of the world, lucky seven, seemed a good place to stop.

My life raft was nearly deflated, it wouldn’t hold me up for much longer. My emergency food had run out days ago, I don’t remember when; maybe seven days ago. My fresh water was almost gone too.

I had a really good tan now, I think. I had burned, blistered, peeled then burned, blistered and peeled so many times. The first time I cried and screamed in agony. The second time I cried and wailed. The third and forth time I whimpered softly and then, somehow, it didn’t hurt anymore. I think I’m on my seventh peel now, and I barely even noticed; my skin becoming so tough and thick.

My feet became uncomfortable. I looked down to see they were covered in sea water, dark and gray. They were neither cold nor hot but, had that unpleasant pruning feeling you get when you stay in the bath too long. I wondered how long my feet had been under water.

An orange glow in the distance caught my attention. Hallucinating again I was sure. So far I’d sung Puff The Magic Dragon with Puff himself floating along beside me. When I asked him if he would carry me home, he disappeared.

Another time, the Angel Gabriel hovered just above me. I was cold and he wrapped his wings around my shivering wet body and warmed me. I fell asleep in his arms and when I awoke, he had disappeared too.

I made out luscious, tall palm trees; seven large ones right on the point. Breakers lapped lazily on what looked to be, a pink sand beach. It was dusk, the sky turned creamy orange marbled with the blackness of the coming night. The Island seemed to be moving closer to me, beckoning me.
The rhythm of the soft roiling sea, broken into short breaths of ascending and descending waves, sounded real. Perhaps the Island was real. Perhaps I had not imagined it after all.

Bump! Something knocked into my rapidly sinking raft. Bump! Bump! My raft spun in a circle, taking on more salty ocean water. Bump! Bump! Bump!

Sharks circled me and what was left of my raft. I gazed longingly at the magnificence and promise of all the Island offered; as my raft succumbed and slipped beneath the clear, blue, pristine water.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

The chamber was not far away, but seemed an eternity away as we walked the rugged path to where it sat on sacred ground, deep in the evergreen forest. My feet ached, were cut and bleeding but I closed my mind to the sensations that were not useful to me at the moment, and walked on fiercely serene with humility and reverence for those who had gone before me. This was the ultimate test.

Seven days without food or water. The days temperatures could reach one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit and the night temperatures dropped severely due to the high mountain range that surrounded us.

There were no blankets to use at all, no toilet and no water. Others have gone before me and made it. Others had not.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

In response to Sammi Scribbles Weekend Writing Prompt #261 in 65 words exactly.

Far below a noise began
slight and distant and
barely discernible

Moons circled their planets
and black holes grew
Millenniums passed by

Sound rose in volume
a shattering crescendo
Past eons of galaxies

Darkness fades to black
black to purple to blue and red
Blood red obscures the sound

The outcry surged forth carried
by fear grief anger and angst
Unheard in the heavenly mix

Hi everyone! I am deeply humbled and feel extremely honored that my poem, “I Am Not A Man” has been accepted by Spillwords.com for publication in their June issue. Thank you to Dagmara K. – Director of Development | Editing Department of Spillwords.com for accepting new authors and having the courage and forethought to promote growth, diversity and excitement within the realm of poetry.

Also thank you to Bartholomew Barker for sharing his published poetry from Spillwords.com, which introduced me to this publication.

I wrote this poem in response to the recent and very upsetting efforts of those in political “elected” positions to overturn Roe vs Wade.

Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

CBWC: Two Of Anything Stein Writing with christinebialzcak.com

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Three Things Challenge #975
Hosted by: pensitivity 101

Your three words today are:
FOREST
COPSE
VALLEY

My Child
By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Take me to the valley
through the forest
that hugs the Earth
in Her comforting embrace

Into the copse of thick
evergreens where I may
lay my baby to rest
covered in sweet green clover

Away from the violence
of her own humankind
May you welcome her back
home to sleep in somber peace

Always a child of my heart
brought forth by my body
Then lay me down beside her
where my arms will cradle her always

Dedicated to the fallen children of
Robb Elementary school.

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

Whiskey Jack you look so sad tonight
not so brilliant blue or famous
as your cousin the striking Blue Jay

Your lamented caw so far out west
calling for family you will never meet
Cousins all well known just not you

Norway to Russia they will live
Revered in Tibet but not gray like you
You wear the color of the Rockies

Listen carefully and you can hear whispers of John Denver singing
Rocky Mountain High with you

Should your habitat be burned
damaged or destroyed by man
You do not fly and you do not flee

Little Gray Jay of Whisky fame
your smart family starts all over again
Foraging for sticks rocks and food

A spirit bird in Canada you are
called Whisky Jack or wiskachaan
by the Indigenous Algonquian

Mimicking other prey birds you
keep danger at bay or sing a sweet
lullaby just to pass the time by

Gray Jay do not be sad this day
other Jay’s can not use their feet
to quickly snatch all silvery things!

By Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris

I purchased a lottery ticket, handing it to the bedraggled man sitting on the curb. He whooped, I smiled knowingly.