Sunday, August 6, 2017

Gypsy Shipwreck






Gypsy Shipwreck



The starved gypsy moon
caravans out of sight

feeding all she has stolen
to the heart of the night.

The bell-jangled tracing
of her white legs' skip

to the violin's sobbing
going down like a ship

 grinds me for music 
that growls like a dog,

 while all hands are lost 
in the gunpowder fog.

~August 2017











a 55 for Kerry's Flash Plus












Images (Swept Away, Summer Breeze) by Erte  via wikiart.org    Fair use.






10 comments:

  1. Love this especially; "The bell-jangled tracing of her white legs' skip to the violin's sobbing going down like a ship" is incredibly vivid! Beautifully executed.

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  2. No five songs for a quarter here; little quarter at all when the moon is a Gyspy thief and the ship is going down in the deep part of the night.

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  3. Your imagery is always so striking, Joy. A wonderful poem!

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  4. I like the rhymes and the energy in this. All is lost in the gunpowder fog...Yes indeed. Including apparently, the gypsy's shoe.

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  5. The word that comes to mind is 'chanson'.. The lyrical quality so perfectly suits the fashion of the art, and your poem is more artful, in my opinion. I love it.. going to read it again before I go.

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  6. No quarter and all hands tossed in my reading of this hurlyburly of an acheybreaky heart. Pair o deuces, snake eyes, 8 ball scratch of a screech as the demon fiddler bows. Boom. I love the smell of gunpowder in Hedgewitchean moonlight.

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  7. Enchanting imagery... I love that the metaphor feels real enough to be seen almost literally, if that makes sense. I can see the moon doing all of it.

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  8. How well you constructed the poem out of the tantalizing image. The violin sobbing was the image that really stood out for me.

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  9. deft, as always, you bring more than just the words to the page. Kerry's note rings true - and with that song and rhyme, the listener / reader's mind is momentarily lulled before you scythe in with that killer last line...

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'Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance' ~Carl Sandburg