an open door
and a woman of gesture
beckon to a man’s lost soul.
rays outside of sunshine
find the shrouded aura
of a sequined bandanna
and rouge of roma gypsy face
inviting.
he enters
as two velvet chairs
a fountain of tranquility
and one lucky lamp of thirteen crystals
found missing
mask the room.
waiting
behind sheer curtains illusion
a table of laced cloth
full of loop holes
lies
beneath.
in the air
bell book and a candles glimmer
hold the sanctity
of an untold fortune
in lost aspirations
and a wicks worn silence.
one who lives
on a block of homeless wishes
and a wagon of lost belongings
sits exposed
while whispers of caravan words
take one hand
now turned over
and like a leaf
lines of novel journeys
crease his brow
to match unending wrinkles
of the only shirt he owns.
the teller takes
his irrevocable four quarters
turns his other hand
her other cheek
and again solicits more.
a wavering flame dims
as he forsaken
rises
and fallen leaves.
outside
the storefront window
he places his unread hand
upon the painted palm.
his ears now burn in length
as he remembers lines
of a journey not come to mind
in a donkey’s year
of Sunday and palms.
I love the words..."one who lives on a block of homeless wishes and a caravan of lost belongings..."
it aptly describes the gypsy caravan and the painted palm...wishes beyond the horizon beyond reach much like the interpretation of a palm reading and also much like the symbolism of Palm Sunday and the reason for the season...
WOW! I aspire to write in depth like YOU!
John, I read this over and over and I want to say - Your words mesmorize me in a trance!
Love it!
Write On!
Warmest Blessings and Inner Peace, Warrior Purple Passion, Sheeeoxoooo
....' A woman of gestle beckon to a man's lost soul'.... 'One who lives on a block of homeless wishes'------ I love this sentences!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
I have read this over and over again. The last lines move me to tears. I wait...to read poetry from you...and each time I do...you give me something to ponder...and leave me with something to hold.
The minute you opened the door, to "painted palm", John, and I entered...I didn't want to leave!
The minute Jesus came into my heart, I knew He would never leave!
. . .yet, He always leaves "...an open door", for anyone who does want out, or anyone who chooses to return...like me and Kadey, if she comes home, I'd let her in...:) You started this out with His opened door...
It's the lost souls, out there, up against the sequins and rouge, so to speak...and the turn of luck, when accompanying such, that WILL manifest!
Turn over the tapestry and see the knots! Yet, a picture perfection appears on the eyeside! The Lord's Eye!
Metaphorically speaking, this is ingenious!
I could draw this!
"...on a block of homeless wishes and a wagon of lost belongings" and on my "...leaf lines of novel journeys". . . I have sinned, as he lies there. . .dying!
God have mercy on our souls...is how I see this!
What an ass I've been!
They should read it from the pulpits, John! :)
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
That is just the most crazy-brilliant, inspiring poem I've read in a long, long time. Your imagery and wording created a heady atmosphere. Reading the reviews below, I see I've really nothing new to say here, but that you should get this published. There are a vast number of Christian magazines to which you should submit it.
And I wouldn't change anything. Some of the images pop out alive at the second reading, if not at the first, but in the re-reading, you find it immaculate. What an incredible write! I'm still breathless. --Charlie
You have a knack for telling fantastic stories in your poems. One does not think too much about gypsy women, in this day and age, and today's youth probably never give them a thought. (The fortune tellers in most little shops today might pretend to have gypsy like abilities, but few to none do.
John, I believe it has been a donkey's year since I've read a poem that's caused me to think like this one. My, how you are with language. Barack Obama said once, "Just words..." Such is not the case with you. You present them in a unique way that causes the reader to, in turn, interpret them in a variety of ways. Of course, that's the difference in good and great poetry. Each is left to his or her own understanding. I was wondering if you have seen "Bell Book and Candle." I haven't but would like to, perhaps sooner than later. Anyway, I am reminded, too, of my childhood and how we were warned by our parents to beware of the gypsies that roamed the countryside, how they might snatch up little children and whisk them away in their caravans, never to be seen nor heard of again. I was raised in a rural area. So, my brothers and sisters, along with our neighbors down the road, walked to a one-room school together. When a car neared during our journey, the neighbors who accompanied us would jump over the bank along the side of the road and hide, proclaiming that the gypsies were coming. Thank you, John for conjuring those memories once more. Your poetry always does that to me...leads me down some pathway where I haven't ventured for a while. And continue with all that you do that makes you a great writer. David
This could easily be a character in a novel, you have created for us people so real, I almost expected the gypsy fortune teller to start bellydancing, loved this, it really shows a depth of detail and a love for character.
you did some traveling in this super verse John, reminded me of this old gypsy woman who approached me as I was getting out of my car one day. She grabbed my hand and read my palm, this is what she said, "you smile on the outside but frown on the inside," hell she was right, I smile and joke a lot when I'm mad as hell, it feels better than letting anger completely consume me. my wife is always saying I think everything is funny but she knows that sometime I'm mad and just covering it up with a joke. When I was in highschool I'd be smiling and fighting at the same time, except when I got the hell beat out of me, of course after I got in the 10th grade this ceased. I was this big strong kid who could hardly be beat, then I got into the martial arts and it was clear sailing after that, I was the champ of all my fights. Now in this older age I still smile and laugh a lot, I think my inner soul finally got the message, it feels good to be of humor. Anyway I gave the gypsy lady a dollar
Where you get these unusual experiences that become your poetic descriptive marvels is a mystery - the irrevocable twists of fate as a man ponders to know his fate - yet you remind us that the "unread hand" is always the journey we are choosing - poetry for Palm Sunday.
And seeing the year as if from the back of a Donkey could be a good thing....
best, michael
Your images are always so intriguing! I find myself reading again and again to find every muance I can.. every analogy I might have missed. I read Kate's review and thought how perfect it is! I am so drawn to the final stanza... I envision it and sigh...you, my friend, are a poet of the highest degree!
This is both mystical and concrete with your delicately interwoven strands of brilliant imagery and metaphor. You have a gift for placing the curious within the everyday, street-corner setting. The sense of place and character are saturated in this piece and you conjure the reality and the surreality of the shady, murky situation excellently, combining the starkly physical with the psychological. I am almost heady on the scent of this - like I get when profoundly affected by the spiritual vibes of people or place. Yet another great poem that takes me there, John. I have the greatest respect for your work. TY Kate xx
A memorable journey of one's self ... wanting to know what is in our future. Then, remembering His journey and we do KNOW our future ... heaven, if we but follow His lead.
You are ingenious! Your masterful way of pulling the reader in and leading them down unexpected roads is an amazing talent. I thought I was reading about something contemporary, yet I ended up in Jerusalem laying palms upon the ground and waiting for my Lord's triumphant entry. How do you do that!??
Hey man! you took me away to travel those dusty roads, not knowing where I was going but going anyhow.
Why my heart then was whispering...Jerusalem?
Oh my!, you don't need to ask, you are a true poet.
You have a wonderful way with words John, a great write. Thank you for sharing.
Newfie Hugs, Rose
Reviewed by Andy Turner (Reader)
Reviewed on March 17, 2008
writing without trapping it in concept is amazing, as it keeps flowing, living and breathing, the poem is alive, the visual is clear, as with the said yet not said. Stunning how you make such profoundness with hidden ease. Riddle or parable like ... A dynamic masterpiece.
Such a talent you have, John
You breath life into words
And your poem comes alive.
Details. . . .
An arrangement. . . .
Of well thought out verses
That concludes far too quickly for me.
Doug
...this is the kind of poetry that makes me wish i'd written it, or thought of it... draped in beauty, and just carries you along, pulling you deeper, in, under... .
gorgeous thing~
ness
Reviewed by Gianetta Ellis (Reader)
Reviewed on March 16, 2008
I read this once and then stood back from it for a while. Then, I came back to read it again - not wanting to miss a thing.
Wow! Wonderful poem. I love the symbols in here, written as though from a vision. That is how many of mine have come. Yours sounds that way also with this poem.
Very intense my friend and lots to ponder. I love the suspense and your words describing homeless wishes an a wagon of lost belongings. Super job my again my friend. Love, Bonnie
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on March 16, 2008
Ah, you have gone and got into some heavy-minded stuff here, my friend . . . Thirteen lamps . . . One missing . . . Coins in his hand . . . Especially liked . . . "of an untold fortune / in lost aspirations" . . . Absolutely stunning in its perception . . .
This is my personal inspirational book of poetry. It contains many poems written for family, friends, and relevant life situations. Hopefully you will find some that will encourage and inpsire you in whatever arena you are found in your circle of l
If you tend to believe romantic, passionate, masculine poetry is a thing of past eras, read "She Intrigues Me," and be swept away in the beautiful craft of a contemporary poet of love.
From the author of Jupiter Remembered and Until It’s Time: Embracing Life In Our Later Years comes Petals of Love: Poetry of a Woman’s Soul – a heartfelt collection spanning more than thirty-five years. Through tender reflections, these poems offer g
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it aptly describes the gypsy caravan and the painted palm...wishes beyond the horizon beyond reach much like the interpretation of a palm reading and also much like the symbolism of Palm Sunday and the reason for the season...
great poetry!!
katie :)
keep up the wonderful inpsiration!!
John, I read this over and over and I want to say - Your words mesmorize me in a trance!
Love it!
Write On!
Warmest Blessings and Inner Peace, Warrior Purple Passion, Sheeeoxoooo
STay Positive!
STay INspired!
Ron
Peace be with you
William
The minute Jesus came into my heart, I knew He would never leave!
. . .yet, He always leaves "...an open door", for anyone who does want out, or anyone who chooses to return...like me and Kadey, if she comes home, I'd let her in...:) You started this out with His opened door...
It's the lost souls, out there, up against the sequins and rouge, so to speak...and the turn of luck, when accompanying such, that WILL manifest!
Turn over the tapestry and see the knots! Yet, a picture perfection appears on the eyeside! The Lord's Eye!
Metaphorically speaking, this is ingenious!
I could draw this!
"...on a block of homeless wishes and a wagon of lost belongings" and on my "...leaf lines of novel journeys". . . I have sinned, as he lies there. . .dying!
God have mercy on our souls...is how I see this!
What an ass I've been!
They should read it from the pulpits, John! :)
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
And I wouldn't change anything. Some of the images pop out alive at the second reading, if not at the first, but in the re-reading, you find it immaculate. What an incredible write! I'm still breathless. --Charlie
You have a knack for telling fantastic stories in your poems. One does not think too much about gypsy women, in this day and age, and today's youth probably never give them a thought. (The fortune tellers in most little shops today might pretend to have gypsy like abilities, but few to none do.
Thanks for sharing this poem.
Jill
Love Tinka
And seeing the year as if from the back of a Donkey could be a good thing....
best, michael
Micke
As always,
Myrna
God bless you. Kathy
Cryssa
Why my heart then was whispering...Jerusalem?
Oh my!, you don't need to ask, you are a true poet.
Georg
Newfie Hugs, Rose
You breath life into words
And your poem comes alive.
Details. . . .
An arrangement. . . .
Of well thought out verses
That concludes far too quickly for me.
Doug
Ron
gorgeous thing~
ness
Axilea
Christine