And Gypsy I have always been;
Mama scrubbed the Gypsy out--
I sinned her back again.
Six claws a cat's paw,
And round the wagon wheel;
Oranges all in sections fall
When knife strips off the peel.
Red apple at your lips,
A seed lies at its core;
Sweet the fine forbidden kiss,
And sweet the needing more.
Meet me by the witch's pond,
November's coming soon;
My blood is up, my dress is gone,
A crow against the moon.
Stolen hens have seven ribs,
Now pull those ribs apart;
Fire the hen upon a spit,
How succulent the heart.
_____
As you see
ReplyDeleteI am first
among your
acolytes.
This is classic in marble, this poem today.
Warm Aloha from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral
> < } } ( ° >
Yeah somethin's on fire all right--my last hairs.
ReplyDeleteThis is just mind blowing, that's all--especially that last bloody stanza. Your work with meter and rhyme is impeccable, and it makes the Emily-ish, classic backtones all the more nostalgically sweet when the mask falls off, and the blade comes out. Pure black gypsy magic.
Ahhh....this piece was toyfully malicious. Just my speed!
ReplyDeletedang...you can sing for me anytime shay...so lyrical...and fun...and...dangerous...
ReplyDeleteOne of the poet gypsy's best. Just perfect.
ReplyDeleteThe last stanza is indeed gorgeous, Shay.
ReplyDeletelove this post
ReplyDeleteLove the first stanza...mostly love sinning it back, I think. :) I got the vision of two little girls slapping hands chanting this poem like "Miss Mary Black", without really knowing what it is they meant by it. Kinda like an incantation chanted by babes. Forgive me, my imagination runs.
ReplyDelete(My comment keeps getting thrown out... last try)
I wanted to say the first stanza was my favorite, but then I reread it and I have no favorite. It's all just so good!
ReplyDeleteWords pulled taut
ReplyDeletethat strike deep;
this an excellent write,
and though I like Stevie Nicks
you out did her with your poem.
Love the iambic pandemonium of this incantation.
ReplyDeleteOh, damn!
ReplyDeleteI love, love, love you and Stevie Nicks. xo
ReplyDeleteHa ha! This is kismet. I just said on my blog yesterday that I wished someone would write me a good gypsy poem. :)
ReplyDeleteI stopped by to let you know I just posted a new playlist that makes me think of you.
~Shawna
rosemarymint.wordpress.com
Homegirl, I just love you. These lines are awesome and deliciously fiesty:
ReplyDelete"Mama scrubbed the Gypsy out--
I sinned her back again."
"Fire the hen upon a spit,
How succulent the heart."
~Shawna
rosemarymint.wordpress.com
"A crow against the moon" - what you can make happen with four words is amazing, Shay.
ReplyDeleteI always thought it would be fun to be a gypsy for a while...lifestyle seemed so free! I just love the first stanza!
ReplyDeleteI am loving this verse ..
ReplyDeleteI've been pondering the gypsy lifestyle.
ReplyDeleteHow does one become a nomad?
Hot damn, girl!
ReplyDeleteCouldn't get this comment through the Blogspot comment box yesterday no matter how I tried ... Got a dude filter on this? (I know, you tweaked the settings). Anyhoo, the old sense of poetry has filed teeth in this one, the charm or curse heightened to a Lesbyterian froth (ha ha) that makes the blood curdle or boil or surrender. May it dew every shorthair with exactly what it purposed. Fine work FB. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteI love when you rhyme. An oldie but mos def a goodie. Seems we are sisters from another mother...Bloods up, clothes are gone. Wow. You are one wild woman and I love you for it.
ReplyDeleteOh this I love... and the connection between gypsies and that hen in the end (stolen of course) I've heard of... cooking the hen takes time
ReplyDeleteYum yum yum and yummmm.
ReplyDeleteAn old revival, raised by the fire, as the moon drops her slip to winter's cold hands.
This is just amazing, - I love the way you've pulled all the rich magic from the spells and cast it all together into the cauldron/pot - hens, eh chick? Fantastic - this just trips off the tongue, gives pause (paws) for the claws and talons - you can read talons as easily as cards or leaves, or bones ...
and I walk away more than satisfied.
from one gypsy soul wanderer/traveler to another, fantastical and slightly hued with the fanatical word casting here - you weave magic babe!
(your northern chick.bone reader wishes you a merry new year filled with all bright blessings)
Ooh, I love this vivacious expression, with its clever characteristic traits and wonderful references. Also, the rhyme and rhythm would totally make for a great song. I can hear the musical accompaniment of some jazz and some soul here. :-)
ReplyDeleteLoved it then and love it now. Puts me in a witchy mood.
ReplyDeleteFirst time I've read it (I think) and wowzers. What a way to start out the new year: with the best!
ReplyDelete