Gypsy Muse Dancing

Crouching

In a misty moment–

Blanketed by dawn

(and a purple velvet cloak).

I peer

Between flared fingers

At nothing, nothing at all.

My chin tilts to the side,

Eyes down, coy,

Like I like them.

It’s a look of mystery,

And even I don’t know what it really means.

What if, who is, could be?

No.

Just

S P A C E

In which I may e x p a n d and contract,

Be whatever I choose:

A spider thinking,
A tree laughing,
A fairy dining on the finest dew…
A bat lurking, sleeping, hanging, hung.

Emotions real

Because I believe in my dream of them.

N O W.

Tomorrow—will be another

Place or time.

Another emotion,
Another me.

Nothing to hold onto.

Change.

All I really have is my love…

And the magic that I make.

Image

(Embodying the Gypsy Muse essence at a NYE party shortly after the poem was crafted.  Photo credit: Kyer Wiltshire)

(I wrote this poem several years ago, but thought I’d post it today for my BIRTHDAY.  Writing this poem ushered in a kind of spiritual birthday for me–the birth of my “Gypsy Muse”!  At that point, it was sort of an alter ego part of my personality.  Since then I’ve done much to integrate this essence into my regular, waking life and reality.  No longer an alter, she is me!  But, this poem is yet another example of the gifts creativity can give us.  I’m so grateful for the role poetry has played in my self-development and evolution.)

Moksha

One day this world’s

Gonna come to an end.

I’ll be released….

“Home Journey” begins.

For I’ll be born

Into the land of GOD–

A spirit realm

Where creation starts.

While I’m there

Don’t know what I’ll do.

Probably dream up

A world or two.

I hope to use

The gift of Light

To help my brothers

Escape their plight:

Endless cycles

Of birth and death…

The hope’s that moksha

Will bring some rest…

 

(For any who do not know, “moksha” is a Sanscrit word that means “liberation” and usually specifically refers to liberation from cycles of death and rebirth.  I took a “Religions of Asia” class in college and learned the word then.  I became a yoga instructor some years later and revisited the concept.  Ever since, I have been fascinated by it.  “Moksha”–it’s a beautiful word.  I do tend to believe in multiple lives, though I am not fixed in my perspective about this or any belief.  One day recently I came across “moksha” in something I was reading and thought “that would make a nice poem”.  So, I sat down and wrote this.  Most of my poems just “happen” kind of like that.  Inspiration and a few moments later, if I follow the inspiration, = poem.)

Mystic Eyes…

Mystic, mystic

“Journey of Souls”…

How will we ever

Find our roles?

Wandering the earth

Trying to awaken–

Looking for amrit

In a DREAM we’re making.

We each have a purpose…

We each have a path…

Some reason we came,

But it’s so hard to grasp!  

The Mystery, she knows:

Our purpose, our reason.

For circling the sun…

Each year, each season.

I’m impatient, however!

I want to know NOW.

I search at each turn–

For a secret to “HOW?”

But the answer’s inside.

It’s only in ME.

You can help me to look…

…But never to see.

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(“Mystic Eyes” – part of a larger acrylic on wood painting by the author)

Sasquatch?

“Who ate my apple?’

Was the first thing I said

When I woke up that morning

With camper’s head.

I’d put trash in a bag

Up in a tall tree

And in it an apple

Too mealy to eat.

At dawn, I awoke

And the whole bag was GONE!

No noise, mess, or snaggle–

Just a branch that was torn

Straight off the tree

As if it were twisted…

Could a bear do that?

If so, I’ve missed it…

Years as a camper

And never I’ve seen

A bear steal food

So neatly, so clean.

This job was perfect.

I pondered who’d done it.

Racoon, bear, or skunk…

Or Sasquatch?

        Dream on it….

 

(I wrote this poem a few months ago while thinking about the very curious experience {described in the poem} that I had on a 5 day solo “Vision Quest” in the Chiracahua mountains in Arizona several years ago.  I love a good MYSTERY!)

Welcome Scorpio.

Oooooo

Her Dark Majesty…

Oooooo

The Goddess of Death.

Oooooo

What frightens you?

Oooooo

That I would lose this sweet chance

Oooooo

To engage LIFE

Oooooo

With no fear in my heart.

Oooooo

The time is NOW…

Oooooo

To live with more s p a c e.

Oooooo

I want to know my depths.

Oooooo

Your Mystery is HERE…

Oooooo

Welcome Scorpio.

Oooooo

I have waited for you.

Spiral Center

I’m goin’ down

To the Spiral Center

To meet my soul

In her gypsy splendor.

 

What we’re gonna do

When I arrive

Is share some plans

So I can thrive!

 

My Gypsy Soul

She’s got a Dream–

A path for me

Laid by my team.

 

Up in the sky,

In the spirit world–

Before I was born

The spiral curled!

 

The time has come

To find my way

Around the spiral

So my soul can play!

 

And when I reach

That golden center

The “sweet spot”

I soon will enter…

 

It’s in this spot

In the heart of me

That I’ll live my Dream

And  set  the  Gypsy  free.  

 

spiral center

(“Spiral Center” oil pastel by the author)

Ahh Musement

I really think it’s true

That finding the Muse

Unlocks a room

Where magic brews.

 

Once she’s free–

Like a genie from a bottle–

Dreams rush in

And reality is mottled.

 

Whatcha gonna do

Now that she’s out?

The Muse will have her way,

About that, no doubt.

 

Get ready. Take your seat.

This rocket’s gonna fly

Across 8 dimensions

Into your third eye.

 

The Muse, she has a gift,

A present for you…

Let her in your life now; 

Enchantment will ensue.

IMG_5393

Shown in the photo is a piece of art I made inspired by the Muse.  She actually came to me in a dream this month (May 2016) (a nighttime, sleep dream)–looking just like this.  The scene included red velvet curtains, a bright green striped backdrop, and a really cute clown muse dressed as she is here and holding a polka-dotted box of RAINBOWS.  I ended up waking up after the dream, probably because it was so pleasant and fun.  I almost immediately set out to make a piece of art inspired by the vision.  I started with this bead piece because I love beading, but I hope to follow it with a painting.  Like the poem (which I wrote three years before I had the dream) says, she indeed does have a gift!!  Hello Muse! And thank you!!