Best Gypsies Poems
Open your eyes
What’s the world to be
All indications
Points to misery
Pain and heartache
Destruction of atmosphere
All for money
One day man would sell you air
Open your mind
This system cannot work
No well intended leader
Can rule to save our souls
If we’re not together
Choosing to live in peace
Adhere to justice
A World of Unity
Then it’s obvious
Stars be our only hope
We’ll be space gypsies
Who once lived on the Earth
Space Gypsies
The search will be our home
We are the children
of the Four
A wandering race
The leaves, trees
and streams feed us
The earth, water and
winds sustain us
We belong to no man
A race so
complicated
You talk about us
with hushed voices
From behind your
hands
Always looking down
The idea of us so
precious
You don't deserve us
Never looking in our
eyes
As though the simple
mention of us will
bring you conflict
Our women so
beautiful
Seeing them leaves
the vision in your
head for days
So you look away
From our mystical,
regal creatures
As we are the
children of the
forests, rivers and
dessert
The snow in the
north
We have always been
We have always
existed
You gave us our name
It was never your
right
You called us
gypsies
You look at us and
see aluminium homes
Your curious eyes
scanning our sites
Picking up on the
old battered cars
Camp fires and dirt
Nomads fighting with
black eyes
Traveling through
these lands
You do not see our
beauty
As you are not
children of the air
A race so loyal like
thunder and lighting
Inside our homes
lives a love so vast
and thick
You can scoop it up
and eat it
It feels like candy
floss
Smells like Apple
blossom
We a deadly
protective race
Taught from years of
persecution
We learnt to only
live with our own
Wandering through
life
Never having a home
When we burned, fire
was so angry
Our ash turned to
snow flakes
The wind was so
distraught
Our ash fluttered
over holy ground
Settled on the
barren
We grew a paradise
Earth was so hurt
you took her
children
For you paradise
will be forever out
of reach
Teasing you
Just before it's in
your grasp
The ocean washes it
away
Burning us made
water scream
You had killed the
children of the Four
We don't expect to
be understood
Our wisdom lays too
deep
The Nazis didn't
just kill and
persecute the Jewish
souls
They killed us too
Put your nose in the
air
Just so
You can still smell
us on the wind
Beautiful, busty black haired gypsy girls
looking at me
like they want to steal my heart
and keep the money they find in my back pocket
Those beautiful gypsy girls
rolling through my town
showing leg and drinking champagne
for no reason what so ever
and the one thousand year old grandmother
with five hundred granddaughters
and they all are looking at me
all those eyes pointed at me
and my heart skips beats,
each one take my heart
and a penny from my pocket.
Gypsies
Across a misty channel
Sensor fingers
Stretch
Through foggy, silent waves
Where two souls embrace
In expeditions of speechless discovery
Two minds stand naked,
Face to face,
With wordless words
Each knowing the inner rhyme
Of another soul –
Intimate outside skin and limbs.
Across the barriers of minutes, hours, months
Two silent gypsies wander,
Through heartbeats
They stand, then gaze,
Connected to each other -
Escapees of the spoken word;
Outside the limits of ticking clocks
Two hearts touch
And see the signature of yet another
Self
At the address of the not yet arrived,
Undelivered.
Across the minutes and the moonlight
Pushing past the stealthy march of mysteries
Two fugitives flee holding hands
Leaving footprints
Escaping lines and spaces
Of a calendar;
Two almost strangers stand
At the mystic gates of the unknown -
Today’s unwanted guests
Intruders in tomorrow’s dwelling -
Thieves of time -
Fate’s despoilers.
Across the walls of midnight’s
Crumbling castles
Two wanderers peer into fleeting glimpses
Briefly understanding
The images and ghosts
Taking shape in the mist undefined;
Two stowaways crouch in secret coves,
Hidden from eyes born into mortality
In the warehouse of the borning
To see and not quite
Understand
Young future’s dance.
Across all barriers of time and space
Two gypsies touch outside galaxies to identify
Vague daylight outlines- dim midnight contours -
Embracing imprints,
Acknowledgment of events to come -
Words still unspoken;
Two souls run past the morning
Then return in recognition
For they now stand
Outside of themselves -
Vagabonds of facts
Nomads escaping demands for proof in black and white.
Great minds get the memo.
Sisters of nature, gathered hand an hand,
Finger tip to finger tip, as the goblets
Are filled high, and thus passed
Amongst one another.
Nymphs of the evergreen wild, celebrating
The springs rebirth, listen to the drumming beat,
Of seasonal change, it plays in perfect harmony,
With the earth's eternal motion.
Graceful steps of eloquence, lightly placed
To the rhythmic under tones, a seductive
Enchanted spell, weaved with gestures
Exotic mischief, by promises unspoken
Implied meaning.
Teasing virgins of sacred beauty's
Renowned, unveiling each temptation
Hidden desire, yet it is nay unconquerable.
For these maiden's are the gypsies of
The mists, the untouchable, protected
By the Gods themselves.
Muses for inspiration, delicate spirits
Of pure joy, never knowing the heart
Aches of the mortal soul, regrets shadow
Lies beyond their realm, of this dance.
Forbidden fruits of a lustful harvest,
These the loveliest of pleasures maidens,
In a Grecian garden.
On the white topped peaks of the Gods,
A blessings bouquet is lain to feast, in
Honor such a magnificent vision to behold.
From above the deities toss golden bands,
To adorn these ladies wrists, and ankles,
A fitting tributes treasure to bestow, for
Such grace and elegance.
Hear the rustling winds blowing,
The echoing voices chanting,
Than feel do you not the silences
Stillness.
They've gone again, into the thinness,
Of air from which they came, these ancient
Spiritual phantoms of the past.
Until the seasons call unto them once more,
Come it is time to dance, gypsies of the mists.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
my
skin were
like a morning
rays,
that rose
in the sky,
almond
shape eye,
dark with the dusk,
round ,
monsoon face
pure timid lips,
grandma talked often
best she could -
don't forget the
past, where
we -
sailed across the
orient waves
seeking -
and the seagulls,
the boat
and
our fading heritage,
make it
alive -
where we came,
where we gone.
Hay (na) ku form created by Ellen Tabios. A Filipino poet
And been recognized for her contribution at poet society.
It read like hayku but it isn't coz of the expanding
Syllables and meters. I like hayku but art were easily
Killed by author with its restrict rule. This wasn't perfect
But why wouldn't I try.
His voice is as a still whisper, a hushed sigh
Rippling through the evergreen mountain pines,
A spiritual being calls in native tongue, come unto
Me, my chosen people of the sacred plains.
The drums beat in the setting sun, as the tribes
Join together in one bands march, the Dakota, Shoshoni
And Cherokee, these wondering nomads, of the open plains.
It is time for the great migrational transitioning,
Heeding the great spirits, seasonal warning,
These tribal gypsies, become a unified people, of the vast
United beneath the vast grasslands Prairie.
Instincts driving force urges them ever forward,
Across steeps terrain, and rolling hills, deep canyons
Depths divides, onto the open plains,
For soon the great buffalo will arrive.
To bowl and cup, do they carry all possession
Necessities, leaving behind only Mohicans prints,
In the dust.
Legacy's children play, and run beside the caravan's,
As warriors on horse back, boast of adventures
Of seasons long ago.
Mile markers of trails woven into the earth itself,
The wilderness wild country lies ahead, in this big
North American Continent, yet undiscovered by
The so called civilized white men.
At night falls rest, a small village emerges, where
Nothing stood sense last years grand journey.
Canvas tents, fill with families warmth and laughter
For freedoms people, live by the great spirits calling.
In ritual dance, do these indigenous tribe give thanks
And praise unto he whom provides substances life,
And liberation’s autonomy.
As the suns rises and dawn approaches, the earth rumbles,
Shaking, beneath the hardened hoof, thy brother the buffalo,
Has come once again, the promise kept, assuring
The tribes winter survival.
Evergreen's pastures, lure these creatures of thunder,
Ancient beasts covering the great plains, as a black
Cloud descending, as if massive locus’s onto
The flowering fields below.
The hunters rejoice in the abundance set before
Them, the harvest of meat and blessings promise,
Taking only what is needed, wasting nothing,
Yet giving thanks praise for everything.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
The Benaminis are a family of rodents,
who live their lives capitalizing on other
peoples' residences,
They scope the homes when they're not
home,
or invade it when only one member's alone,
They scamper up and down,
acting like confounded clowns,
going through closets and secret hiding places,
at the end of their visits , they carry satchels on their backs
filled with delicacies and knick-knacks,
The familes set traps of honey and cheese,
hoping they all will fall to their knees,
But they just keeping rambling and showing up at
the oddest times,
even when polluted with coffee grinds,
They run a muck, taking what they want,
Their sniveling looks seem to haunt,
making families edgy, and promoting dreams
that taunt,
Oh, they give the children quite a scare,
by climbing everywhere,
They cover their bodies from head to toes,
for fear that the Benaminis grizzly hands may take them
out the windows,
The gypsies who traveled from "Nowhere",
have put enmity and nervousness everywhere,
helping themselves to life's delights,
only stopped with traps and horrible fights.
~Gypsies Tramps and Thieves~
Gypsies what do we think, the word is coupled with hate
But were the original gypsies - aware of their fate
The Egyptian forebears were exiled from their home
Supposedly for hiding Jesus so too other continents they did roam
The Romaine Egyptians, were then exiled they had to cross the sea
And became a shortened version -the word we use gyp - sy.
A gentleman of the road the romanticised tramp was named
He didn’t look for work but for this he was not shamed
He begged his way across the land, begging for a crust
You leave him out a plate but be careful which you trust.
To deprive someone of their goods, and keep them for their own
The thieves of this world are the scum we do not their actions condone
Unlike the old time gypsy or the gentleman of the road
Those that commit acus reus, are lower than the toad
Unlike a toad we will not hurt, the thieves need to be caught
Unlike the tramp or gypsy - lessons need to be taught
Our trust we should be careful where ever we do place it
Gypsies tramps and thieves are not the best bet - let us fact it.
©
acus reus : the act of theft to deprive some one of their goods
I close my eyes as I turn every corner
Not wanting to see my death
Or the piano falling
Landing on my head
You could call me nuts, crazy cow
Stupid *****
I won't react to you
Or even flinch and inch
Call me a whore, skank gypsy
Whatever it is you like
Your the one that will suffer
I won't blink an eye
I'll spend my days
Refusing
To ever let you in
Not letting you ripe open
My perfect alabaster skin
Your never reach my soft parts
Where emotion spends its time
Sweetest soft parts of me
Hidden deep inside
If I flinched
You'd have an opening
To the core where I hide my fear
I'll never let you reach there
I promise you
I swear
So call me whatever
Anything you like
I'll never flinch for you
You won't get your rise
Pushing through the shell of me
Perfectly placed around my heart
Put there when my hair was pulled
I was just a child
Taunting me and shouting
Dirty gypsy
Gypsy skank
Your never get a rise from me
Your not worth the time
You ban us from your pubs
Look at us like dirt
Craving money, fame
You never see our worth
We are also people
Breathing the same air
I'll watch when fate punishes you
Then your see my smile
Nomadic tribes traveling along forgotten
Mountain passes.
A village built upon wooden wagon wheels.
A homeless nation searching for a homeland
That no longer exists.
People cast asunder at the four winds mercy,
Without roots safety line.
Cultural diversity an unexceptionable social,
Barrier to non-conform to the societies norm.
Outcasts gypsies living on freedoms well worn
Road.
Dreaming of liberty's liberation from being
Nothing more then dusts children, drifting
As castaways upon hidden highways lost
By ways.
Beneath moonlights luminous glow, a canvas
City comes alive.
In abandonment’s empty fields a flickering firer
Burns at twilight’s midnight hour
Beyond no man's lands a nomadic people celebrate
A moments peace.
From those whom would destroy their way of
Life and religious beliefs.
Striking rosin to bow, the fiddler plays an ancient
Tune.
While voices sing of an easier time, a simpler
Peaceful way once lived.
Mankind's kindred spirits wishing for a sanctuary,
Clinging to idealism, that one day they will find
A home at last.
Just a piece of earth all their own, to rest at peace,
Somewhere it does exist.
In such a world created by an everlasting being,
An Eden calls to them.
Until then the gypsy dance continues, and there
Voices shall be raised on high.
But at sunrise nothing is left but the cuts in the road,
From creaking wagon wheels.
And glitters dust left behind along with a lingering
Dreaming,
The echoing songs from a nomadic people, who belong
No where but the open plains.
God's lost lambs searching ever seeking freedoms road.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
.
Sonny orchestrated; Cher was his doll.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, was their nightly drawl.
We’d preach a little gospel to save them all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves, was their nightly drawl.
They were treacherously mean with their call.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
But the men would sneak, see us, big and tall.
And lay their money down, and have a ball.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves was their nightly drawl.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves was their nightly drawl.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Townspeople were afraid of us, even Baby Paul.
Papa would learn about this romance, in the Fall.
He was tall, handsome, but left me after all.
We picked up a handsome man in Mobile, ya’all.
Papa would learn about this romance, in the Fall.
Sonny orchestrated; Cher was his doll.
Written May 1, 2018
Oh when the cold lurks past our doors,
we gypsies love your heated seats.
Stars guide our weary hearts,
better yet, headlights show the streets.
We journey together,
one heartbeat echo’s for all.
My people voice together,
next stop, the nearest mall!
Charms of wisdom and luck,
sometimes ward off ghostly creatures.
Your airbags come standard,
among other safety features.
Labeled as thieves just for trying to find water,
canisters upon our backs in the burning sun.
Oh glory to the Caravan that comes with cup holders,
a Gypsies day can now be done.
We ride across the desert sands
Like pirates out at sea.
Two Humvees accompany me
12 gypsies all we be
We fly the Jolly Roger, a symbol
Big and bold,
We sail a cross the desert sand
Happy pirates what we be.
We sport heavy fire power as we
Sail for liberty.
We have a cast of characters and a captain that be me.
We get our sailing orders and plot and plan you see.
We have a deadly mission, to capture these faces for there atrocities, they display them on playing cards
That makes them easy to see.
We are the sand gypsies that's what we are you see,
So If you happen to see us, with the black flag flying proud, it's just us sand Gypsies 12 jolly bastard were told, you will hear our music playing give me shelter is what it will be, we're just Out on a mission sailing across the desert sea.
They are around my way like the autumn leaves.
Anybody can call them gypsies, tramps, and thieves.
Cher can describe my neighbors with her hit song.
The title being descriptive certainly is not wrong.
Some of my lawn furniture was stolen this spring.
Who would be low enough to do such a thing?
These neighbors roam like gypsies all over the place.
They speak broken English and have a ruddy face.
There’s no way they can finance their way now and beyond.
Each one is a tramp and the epitome of a vagabond.
Are they looking for a job? I don’t think they care.
When you see them in the neighborhood, you had better beware.
May 9,2012