In the Grip of a Gypsy

 

In his mind she is the unmelting iceberg ~ the unconquerable highland ~ insanity wrapped in a cloak of a doomed fate ~ the arrow unleashed into his heart ~ she’s a woman ~ even in the wildest of his fantasies impenetrable ~ untraceable ~ untouchable ~ unlovable. He is alone in his strife ~ can’t help but fill the vacuum of his infatuation bubble ~ he is in love. True or false ~ this he fails to prove ~ yet he waits and waits and waits. Wait is time ~ time is patience ~ and what do you know about patience or time or wait ~ only words may fill up the vacuum and suck out the life of boredom ~ the man is always honored to seek martyrdom ~ in a love he sees a sacred mission ~ she is not holy ~ yet her holiness has a differing definition. In his heart she is a desert rose ~ a desert storm ~ she must belong in the land of chonic drought ~ yet her chastity quenches his doubt. She is a gypsy ~ stole his heart on a shiny morning ~ danced with bare feet in his heart ~ unplanted his heart away from its veins ~ wrapped in a blazing fear of losing in the sweetest yet sacred of warfares ~ she is still colder than cold ~ her resistance rages like a cold wind blows on a northern land. In her heart he is a man of words ~ his passion draws a lustrous flicker on her virgin walls ~ vanilla smells sinful on her skin ~ derails her unblinking resistence ~ yet his love she defies ~ singed beyond repair ~ brutalized in a not so distant past ~ recreated a cell of well-engineered bars of doubt ~ erasing pathways to where her land is sought by lovers and thieves of a heart so sad and tired. There’s a lump in her throat ~ her bitterness revives her wounds ~ she is a loner ~ lonesome brings her the brightest chirps ~ yet he vows to mend her quirks ~ bring  joy to her smirks ~ feed her drought with his unwavering faith in her city’s stingy skirts.  

May K.

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5 thoughts on “In the Grip of a Gypsy

  1. You are out doing yourself with each poem. Your mastery of the human element, the simple pleasures of the mind’s tongue, the tantalizing edge to your feelings is amazing. “Brutalized in a not so distance past…” even that pain can be healed May. Anything short of death should be healable. All you must do is dance your gypsy heart into his waiting arms and let love be reborn. Sometimes a man’s infatuation is his attempts to satisfy a guilty pleasure, sometimes it’s the remnants of a broken love. Time is all we have until there is mo more. That is when you’ll be able to judge if he has proven himself to you.

  2. I love spanish guitar. Would you call this Catalan? I actually bought myself a guitar to learn to play like this! Your beautiful words complemented this music–overflowing with sensual romance and heartfelt desire. Hmm.

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