By Gypsymooncat
Written words are much like pearls aglow in subtle shine
Thoughts and feelings glimmering, immortalised in time
Gems flow down the pages, captivating all who read
Each writer leaving legacies for those whom they precede
The pen is wielded by a soul who has a gift to give
A memory to linger after they have ceased to live
Success may only be bestowed upon the lucky few
Yet all will be remembered in some way for what they do
Writers live forever, like His word engraved in stones
Their works of art preserved within a "Gallery of Tomes"
| Author Notes |
This is a prologue for a collection of poems in my Anthology. "Tomes" is loosely used as an alternative word for books, although the correct dictionary meaning is a "volume as part of a series". I hope I'll be excused for "loosely" using this word!
THANKS FOR READING! |
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | A father driven by sheer will |
I'll never believe there's no way out
Of this sandstone fortress girt by sea
Knowing I'm innocent calms my doubts
Come hell, high water - I WILL BE FREE
Imprisoned for crimes I didn't commit
By walls so thick no man's ever breached
Ten years gone by, I'll no longer sit
While innocent cries, deaf ears beseech
No island prison bound by water
Can hold my pure, free-flying soul
In dreams I am there with my daughter
There's naught will stop me; I'll reach this goal
Slowly I've chipped at stone with a pen
Concealed my work with pages of words
I'll not accept the fate of the men
dying before me, lying interred
The gap's grown bigger, soon I'll slip through
(Hope's eye not playing tricks on my mind!)
I'll wave with a smile and a fond adieu
My soul to fly; I leave you behind!
| Author Notes |
THANKYOU lynnieellie for use of this fine art!
|
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | A brave world re-born |
A world in dark recovers, slowly, from the poison blast
Survivors are emerging from below the ground at last
A raped and ravaged Mother Earth cries in shades of grey
For lands of green and gold, forgotten memories, this day
Nervously, the people tread upon her hardened ground
Uncertainly, they cast around, so many questions sound:
Will revenge be hers or will she take their pleading hands,
Leading them to peace and joy in growing, new born lands?
Must they pay the price or will their children bear the cost?
Will Mother Earth rejuvenate, replacing all she lost?
Quietly, the gentle beat of Mother's earthen heart
Pulses with forgiveness in a mark of Heaven's art
Silently, their eyes are turned towards the leaden sky
Reverence and hope embracing all in her reply:
On wings of doves a rainbow sent from Mother by God's hand,
Pours its seven shades of faith upon their new born land
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | To beg forgiveness |
Father, forgive me for all of my sins;
for cruelty of action I cannot rescind
This path I have taken brings night on my soul
in dark I am drowning while youth becomes old
Elusive and slipp'ry my grip has come loose
as joy slides away 'tween thorns on a noose
My fingers outstretched, but they cannot find
the warmth of forgiveness nor sight to eyes, blind
Weakened and wizened, so arid within
a harsh, barren desert, dried out in hell's wind
no rescue or foothold, or way to be free
wingless my Angels their hearts cry for me
I'm heartless and hopeless, yet I'll not lose hold
of a far away glimmer of warmth in the cold
these shackles I'll cast, I will loosen these chains
to kneel down and beg for Your good will again
Oh merciful God, bestow hope on this wraith
who, bathed in Your goodness, clings on by raw faith
for You can deliver my soul from dark skies
by shining on me Your benevolent eyes
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | I've always loved this bird. So dark and mysterious; so stunningly beautiful. |
| Author Notes | In memory of Edgar Allen Poe |
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | The shadow within is merely a transient presence... |
Alone to face a darkened night
I look within to find the light
My search reveals a landscape, cold
The valley of my shadowed soul
Escape is never meant for me
My foe pursues relentlessly
Asleep I sense his baleful glare
Awake I feel him everywhere
A life embroiled and intertwined
Within his barren, blackened mind
The mansions of my soul and heart
Display his sombre works of art
Once he leaves, his presence lingers
With the cold touch of his fingers
Stroking fear across my face
He knows I cannot leave this place
I will be here when he returns
For lonely fire within me burns
His shadowed visits keep me strong
In hallowed void where we belong
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | There's a few songs mentioned in here, but really, the poem speaks for itself I think. |
The crystal cave within her mind
a destination she could find
at tunnel's end in shimmer light
a landing, soft, to follow flight
She flew with Lucy in the sky
and tripped with Major Tom on high
the needle kept all thought above
redemption songs of peace and love
The tracks and bruises on her arm
convinced her she was safe from harm
and gave her licence to deny
the pain she felt, big girls don't cry
This wounded lady of the night
who cared for nothing, wrong or right,
who gave her body then her soul,
who made the highs her only goal...
... was found at dawn in icy water
just a “Jane”, not someone's daughter
childhood, youth, her given name
unknown because she lost the game
And so the metal slab and sheet
cocoons her body, bruised and beat
a life concluded in a bag
Identity: a numbered tag
| Author Notes |
At last she rests.
|
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | At least captive animals are now kept in much better conditions |
They caught him on safari, so the plaque said on his cage.
His capture gave the Zoo a name, despite his roars of rage.
My family went to see him; I was only nine or ten.
The image of him pacing has remained with me since then.
I counted thirty iron bars around his small enclosure.
Awestruck by his majesty, I cared not for composure.
To me this regal creature with a heart untamed and wild,
would live his life on show to every adult, every child.
I cried out to my father, "Dad, this tiger should be free!"
He turned and smiled into my eyes and gently said to me,
"Son, there is a reason why the Zoo has brought him here;
his species may become extinct if they don't interfere."
His words made sense, but still I found it hard to understand:
How could this tiger live, content, imprisoned by man's hand?
The sight of him, as said above, stayed with me all this time.
For life behind those thirty bars, I never knew his crime.
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | ...can be broken |
I have fallen from the fam'ly tree
In fear I fell, upended, but free
Softly floating to'ard virgin ground
A gentle landing, nary a sound
At first I thought: 'This must be wrong!'
Then saw it was where I belonged
I ran and skipped, jumped and squealed
And one by one, layers were peeled
With childlike glee I built a pile
Compiled of years of sorrow and trial
I started to count, stopping at twelve
(Such depths weren't where I wished to delve)
Valuable time was already lost
Reliving anger at such high cost
Their last words cut by scathing slap
Yet turned the key, unlocked the trap
I couldn't be silent nor would accept
Being controlled, quiet, inept
Life's cards face down, flipped up, revealed
Truth's inner core no longer concealed
Integrity, courage lit up tunnel's end
Finally myself and I became friends
In fear I fell from their fam'ly tree
In safety I landed. In truth, walked free
| Author Notes | Not all families are nurturing. |
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | Nearly four years he's been with us, and I don't know if I'll ever see his human side. |
I cannot hope to rearrange
this thing now carved in stone
Time has slowly come around and with it, a message shown
Even the years you've spent with me, and seeds that we have sown
Have not erased the need in you to always be alone
I feel the tears like rain that fall upon your barren ground
I sense within the depths of you a sorrow without bound
The love that you had always sought, but have not ever found
The words that form upon your lips, but never make a sound
The pain that you so deftly hide behind your eyes of blue
Sometimes it shoots out from those depths, revealing some of you
These times of raw emotion shown are precious but are so few
They slip away without handhold or a way I can pursue
You are not bound to me by blood, you grew not in my womb
I simply tried to offer you a safe house from the doom
I've tried to show you care and love, while also giving room
Yet knowing that the time was short, your leaving always loomed
The bonds of birth are surely strong, and rarely can be torn
I keep what I suspect from you, while deep inside I mourn
I pray for a release to come, from dark, the light of dawn
For what I feel is sharp within, a twisted, jagged thorn
I will not keep you from your need to leave our family home
The door will be left open should you tire of being alone
And I'll remind myself when thoughts stray far from what I've known
That I can never hope to change
this thing now carved in stone
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | We tried |
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | A plea from a dying father |
I'd always been an active man who never much sat still
now all that gets me up is my routine or force of will
things have been so different since your mother up and died
she isn't here to talk to, or come sit with me outside
The two of us would spend a lot of time on our back porch
sitting in that old swing chair, at night we'd use a torch
we'd shine it round the garden and admire all the flowers
it brought some joy for both of us to wile away those hours
It was her heart they told me, for her death was very quick
I'm glad she didn't suffer, like she would have, were she sick
but now I sit alone while all the flowers wilt and die
imagining she's just gone out, yet knowing that's a lie
I also have been thinking of that awful, fateful day
when things were said I didn't mean, but that drove you away
then I hear your mother say, like she was sitting here,
“You have no other choice, don't let it go another year”
And so I've sent a letter, like the ones I sent before
and hope this time you read it and not send it back, ignored
My time is running out; that's why I need to see you soon
for I get old and sicker with each cycle of the moon
The tumour's spread so far the doctors can't do anymore;
and I'm too tired to fight this illness like I did before
But now I realise I'd focused all my energy
on what I figured could be fixed, instead of you and me
Forgive me, son, I'm begging you to let me make amends
I want to be the Dad you lost or, at the least, be friends
so I will sit here on our porch and wait for your reply
and hope you'll come and sit with me, just once, before I die
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | Sometimes leaving is the only way |
My name's Joe, I'm nearly seven, and have a sister, Jane,
who is eight and thinks she's boss, but I think she's a pain.
Dad's a giant and he isn't clumsy like poor Mother,
who keeps on falling over when they're yelling at each other.
I'm in the car with Mum and Jane, we're going on a trip.
"A holiday!" my mother said, and then she bit her lip.
I should be excited but I feel upset instead,
for leaving Dad alone, asleep, a bottle by the bed.
I ask Mother why it is our Dad was staying home -
did she forget to take him, wouldn't he be sad alone?
She said, "No, he has some work to do that cannot wait.
He'll join us when it's done, now go to sleep, it's very late!"
I know she's right, and so I try to will myself to sleep
by counting guideposts on the road instead of boring sheep.
But I can't see them as the window's all fogged up again;
instead, I count the streaks left on the glass by all the rain.
Jane was quiet well before she went out like a light.
If I wake her up, we're almost sure to have a fight.
I feel a bit mixed up and cannot figure out just why,
her being quiet makes me feel so lonely I could cry.
Mother's wearing glasses that are dark and hide her eyes.
I want to ask her why, at night, she's still in this disguise?
And now and then I see her wipe away a tear or two
with shaking fingers and her face is white, like kiddy glue.
We pull up at a diner, and I start to poke Jane's arm;
she wakes, and glares at me, as if she'd like to do me harm.
The three of us run quickly through the rain and bitter cold,
towards the dry and warmth inside, where yummy food is sold.
We're sitting at a booth and I won't let the moment go:
I ask Mum if she's feeling well? She says, "I'm okay, Joe",
then puts her hands up to her face and starts to cry and cry
like she won't stop; it gets so loud, it frightens Jane and I.
We want to help, but we're unsure what made her cry like this!
So we attempt to calm her with a cuddle and a kiss.
She takes the glasses off and wipes the tears from her wet face,
and there's a big, black bruise that's just as huge as outer space.
She says, "I tripped again, I sometimes think I've two left feet!
Your food is getting cold, so come on kids, you need to eat."
We do what we are told, but I still wonder why she cried.
And though I'm only six, I think my mother may have lied.
Then she smiles and tells us she is sorry she was sad,
and also that our holiday will be the best we've had;
“because we're going somewhere nice, with sunshine all year round.
I know we'll all be happier to walk upon new ground".
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | PLEASE READ NOTES |
I'm a true-blue Aussie bloke who some folk call a 'Digger'
I fought in wars and got quite good at pullin' an accurate trigger
I still wear me khaki 'cause it's tough, hard-wearin' clobber
If people gawk, I tip me hat with a wink and a "G'day Cobber!"
Some think I'm pretty queer, some sorta outta-space grave robber
That's okay, I got thick skin; odd looks don't cause me bother
Shrapnel scars hide under me hat for I ain't got much hair
(And I ain't wastin' time explainin' how they came to be there)
Me body's a scary sight these days, it copped a beatin' y'see
I've lumpy marks from cuts and burns all over me anatomy
Long sleeves hide me mangled arm where a bayonet got me a beaut
Pant legs cover a botched tattoo, the false foot's tucked in me boot
Me ticker is tickin' with a contraption a bit like a battery
(Though there are times when it still beats a bit 'pitter-pattery'!)
I ain't whingein', I owe me life to the skill o' the surgery
I coulda been pushin' daisies up in that downtown cemetery
Although me days are gittin' numbered it don't worry me none
I keep to meself and the wife, and try not to hurt anyone
When I'm asked if me gear is real or a costume counterfeit
I tell 'em "it's a part o' me past", some mem'ries I won't forfeit!
Hell, I gotta bolt! Ooroo my friend, it's time I got to the market
If it's shut, the Missus'll flog me for sure and then I'll cark it!
Don't worry mate, me life's no sad or sorry predicament
She'll be right, I'll keep me smile till I'm lyin' under cement!
| Author Notes |
This poem has been written with loads of Aussie slang.
Meanings are as follows: GAWK: An obvious stare DIGGER: The term used for Australian soldiers CLOBBER: Aussie slang for clothing COBBER: Aussie slang for "mate" or "friend" OOROO: Aussie slang for "goodbye" CARK IT: Aussie slang for "die" SHE'LL BE RIGHT: Aussie term for "it'll be okay" There are also quite a few incidences where I've misspelled some words, ie, "of" I've spelled without the "f" here and there, and I've also left the "g" off the end of some words, like "lyin'"- this is a style of Australian dialogue which appears quite often in books based on Australia during our early years. Other contractions, misspellings and the use of "me" rather than "my" are for the same reason. PLEASE NOTE the word "cemetery" is pronounced as three syllables. CONTEST REQUIREMENTS were that we had to include all words in the list, ie, GRAVE ROBBER, BOTHER, CLOBBER, ANATOMY, SURGERY, BATTERY, MARKET, PREDICAMENT, FORFEIT, COUNTERFEIT. Each of these words must appear at the end of lines only. Minimum of 10 lines and maximum of 30. |
By Gypsymooncat
There once was a dandy named Andy
Who picked a bad time to be randy
He flexed the wrong muscle
With macho-man Russell
And suddenly Andy was Mandy!
| Author Notes |
Contest calls for a limerick. First two lines 9 syllables with AA rhyme scheme, third and fourth lines to be 6 syllables with BB rhyme, then last line 9 syllables with A rhyme.
This is my first stab at a limerick. Have always enjoyed reading them, so thought I'd avago ... THANKS FOR READING! |
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | Prompt full, but hey, can't win 'em all ... or even enter 'em! |
MISSING:
Mr Jack Frost
Of cool temper
Who has been lost
Since September
His icy hands
Are sorely missed
On dried up lands
Who need his kiss
He's obvious
By frosty breath
Yet devious
By how he left
He simply danced
Away one day
Without a glance
Or word to say
If he has stayed
With you too long
Send him our way
Where he belongs
We wish he'd just
Come right on back
Tell him he must
Hit the road Jack!
| Author Notes | Written in a strict syllable count of 4 per line. |
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | Winter's cold now a forgotten memory |
The strangled air has thickened
Rising up in pulsing streams
Swirling stifling, arid winds
Smother all in silent screams
Man-made cooling breathes within
Allowing dwellers slight reprieve
Thoughts of frosted rooves of tin
Melt away like skulking thieves
Grass once softly green and whole
Shrivelled up to bed of straw
Harshly dry beneath our soles
In show of brittle, inner core
Rolling hills in wheaten beige
Uncoiled, undulating browns
Hiss beneath the steaming rage
Of solar blades stabbing down
Flaming forests, ashen art
Frame the land in reddened fire
Nature's scorching soul and heart
Displayed in works of burning ire
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | What's left after a drought? |
A rustic tear has sought relief
As symbol of a hidden grief
It thinly slides down weathered skin
Heralding raging war within
This solid man of stolid past
With strength of steel, endurance, vast
The wall around his swelling heart Breached and weakened, comes apart
He lets the subtle shift begin
To cast his fortress to the wind
He’s kneeling on his hardened ground
These racking sobs, a sound new-found
He holds two hands towards the skyPleading "Lord, please tell me why?
I've worked this land for forty years
By sweat and blood, through doubts and fears
The hand you’ve dealt me is unfair
I’ve empty sheds, the land is bare
My herd are dead or sold for meat
And we are left with naught to eat!"
He looks upon his landscape now
With sorrow etched across his brow
Remains of his one thousand head
Lay starved or shot, in pools of red
The rifle glints beside him, teasing
Yet no bullets left to ease him
Tears still coursing like a flood
Mingle salt with fear and blood
ooo
Homeward bound, he walks upright
The mission done and grief sealed tight
No evidence of how he cried
Belying pain alive inside
His fam’ly needs to feel hope still
In rising dawn, new sun on hills
They may not fully understand
A man so marred
By hardened land
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | that could never be |
How do I adore thee? In so many, varied ways:
In reverence I hang on every dulcet word you say
Your very essence warms the icy corners of my heart
Avidly I watch you, wishing we weren't worlds apart
If only I could look into your eyes of violet hue
And whisper how I'd gladly give my life and soul, for you
If only you were part of me, my spirit would be whole
For you I'd sleep on bed of nails and walk on burning coal
If only I could find a way to give a certain sign
If only I could lead you through the pathways of my mind
Instead when you are near, in darkened shadows I retreat
For I am not your station; merely dirt beneath your feet
I must be content with dreams of how your skin may feel
In my imagination, our affair is pure and real
If only we were born another time, another place
I'd look into those violet eyes and tell you, face to face:
How truly I adore thee, in so many, varied ways
and how thy image leads me from the dark into the day
By Gypsymooncat
| Author Note: | By love lost |
To see you smile, oh love of mine The path is dark without you near My dear Edwine, where are you now *** As threat'ning, blackened nightscape looms
Enfolded me in joy, divine
I walked with you through meadows, green
On paths of light, my dear Edwine
To stand with you ‘neath endless blue
My heart rejoiced in song for you
Your lilting voice of silken tone
Brought rebirth and led me home
***
My heart to you forevermore
But you were drawn from earthly shores
No scent of rose, or comfort here
Cruel sorrow plays across my brow
Pray, my love, come back to me
I search for you o'er land and sea
So dreams of death will plague my rooms
No blest escape from memory
I plead release on bended knee
The hounds of hell may breach the door
As hope redeems me nevermore
My sword to lay by flag of white
In wait for Reaper's scythe this night
****
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