Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Crow Against The Moon

Gypsy I was born,
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.
_____

21 comments:

Cloudia said...

As you see
I am first
among your
acolytes.

This is classic in marble, this poem today.



Warm Aloha from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral

> < } } ( ° >

hedgewitch said...

Yeah somethin's on fire all right--my last hairs.

This 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.

HermanTurnip said...

Ahhh....this piece was toyfully malicious. Just my speed!

Brian Miller said...

dang...you can sing for me anytime shay...so lyrical...and fun...and...dangerous...

Sherry Blue Sky said...

One of the poet gypsy's best. Just perfect.

Sioux said...

The last stanza is indeed gorgeous, Shay.

Pete said...

love this post

Randy Behavior said...

Love 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.

(My comment keeps getting thrown out... last try)

Caty said...

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!

Matt D said...

Words pulled taut
that strike deep;
this an excellent write,
and though I like Stevie Nicks
you out did her with your poem.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Love the iambic pandemonium of this incantation.

Mama Zen said...

Oh, damn!

Marion said...

I love, love, love you and Stevie Nicks. xo

Shawna said...

Ha ha! This is kismet. I just said on my blog yesterday that I wished someone would write me a good gypsy poem. :)

I stopped by to let you know I just posted a new playlist that makes me think of you.

~Shawna
rosemarymint.wordpress.com

Shawna said...

Homegirl, I just love you. These lines are awesome and deliciously fiesty:

"Mama scrubbed the Gypsy out--
I sinned her back again."

"Fire the hen upon a spit,
How succulent the heart."

~Shawna
rosemarymint.wordpress.com

TALON said...

"A crow against the moon" - what you can make happen with four words is amazing, Shay.

Mary said...

I always thought it would be fun to be a gypsy for a while...lifestyle seemed so free! I just love the first stanza!

Daryl Edelstein said...

I am loving this verse ..

Old Ollie said...

I've been pondering the gypsy lifestyle.

How does one become a nomad?

Lolamouse said...

Hot damn, girl!

blueoran said...

Couldn'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